“Does it have to do with the whispers about me? Me Highland ways?”
“Don’t eventhinkthat,” he growled, pulling her closer, almost as a punishment. “I am very fond of your ways.”
“Then what?”
“I cannot be with anyone.”
“Does it have to do with yer faither?” she pressed, remembering the flickers of pain in his eyes when his past was mentioned.
He took a slow, deep breath.
“My father was a difficult man,” he began, his voice low. “He… he ended up betraying me. It ruined our relationship. Forever.”
He stopped, his gaze unfocused, as if seeing something far away in the night sky.
When he looked back at her, she could feel the tension in his shoulders, the tremor in his hands. She could see the storm in his blue eyes. It all spoke of a burden he had carried alone for far too long.
She felt it, too—the fragility of the moment, the raw vulnerability that seemed to wrap around them both.
He stopped, and she saw the hesitation in his gaze. A flicker of fear passed over his face, a man who had never shared this part of himself.
He could not speak it, whatever it was. She understood that much.
Still, he held her. His arms were strong around her, but there was no harshness, only the force of a man clinging to what little comfort he could.
And she did not pull away. She leaned into his warmth, her tears ebbing, her green eyes rising to meet his. She studied him, looking for something she could not name.
“Me husband,” she whispered tentatively. “He was a respected man in the Highlands, at least. Wise and well-read, generous to his people. But our marriage, it was cold as a blizzard. And he drank. Every night.”
Hugo’s breath warmed her ear as he murmured, “I did not know.” He pulled her closer.
She hesitated, then continued, “He would come to me chambers, blackout drunk, without sense. He never… never?—”
“What, Elspeth?”
Her voice faltered. “He never touched me, Hugo. Nae once. He never consummated our marriage.”
Hugo drew back, holding her at arm’s length. She saw the shock in his eyes as they roamed over her.
He was seeing her for who she truly was, and she could see that the realization hit him like a thunderbolt.
He now, no doubt, knew she was still a virgin.
A wave of desire and protectiveness flooded his eyes, simmering beneath his shock. His mind seemed to wrestle with itself, trying to gather order from the torrent of emotion.
And then the dam broke for him as well. Words spilled out of him, rough, ragged, laden with years of grief he had never spoken aloud.
“You see,” He took her hand and led her to the couch, pulling her down beside him. His thumb brushed hers, trembling as it sought reassurance. “When I was nineteen, I made the mistake of falling in love. Or what I believed to be love. Her name was Mary. A widow, older than I, and more beautiful than any woman I had known. I thought her my salvation. She was passionate, intoxicating. I was blind.”
He ran a hand through his hair and gave a mirthless laugh.
“What I did not know was that she had also given herself to my father. When he discovered us, he was not outraged by her betrayal, nor by mine. Only that I had dared touch what he consideredhispossession. He forced her to choose between us. And she chose him. Chose the power, the title, the security. Within the year, she became my stepmother.” His voice roughened, the words dragging out of him. “It ended whatever bond had remained between my father and me. I quit his houseand swore never to return. For years, I kept only the company of Aaron and my grandmother. They were all I trusted.”
He drew a long breath, steadying himself, as though preparing for the darker part yet to come.
“Seven years later, word came that my father was dying. I was begged to come. Fool that I am, I did. And no sooner had I set foot in that house than Mary sought me out again. She whispered that we might resume what we had once begun. That when my father was gone, we could be together once more.”
Elspeth’s jaw dropped.
