He needed to apologise, but how to say it? Her hands fluttered in her lap and he took them. Her hands were cold and he rubbed them. Her lips parted as she watched his clumsy attempts. He was acutely aware of his callouses, how his hands engulfed hers, of the hitch in her breath.
How it matched his own. He didn’t know this woman existed until yesterday. Couldn’t imagine the way she felt, or the way her mind worked. All he knew was he wanted more.
A tug on her hands woke Ailsa from her reverie. Wrenching her hands free, she skittered back, not caring about the papers she bent. ‘You must think me a fool, Lochmore.’
She had lost her friend years ago. Months ago, she tried to save two McCrieffs. Last night she lost a bit of her pride to this man. This was no time to be weak.
‘You are anything and everything but a fool, Ailsa. As many differences as there are between us, that is truth.’
‘Can you not just leave?’
‘We’re married.’
She pointed at him. ‘And there you go, changing the story again. Are we or are we not married? Because I can’t keep up with your moods even in such little time that I’ve known you. You may think me blunt, but you are everything but. Deceit is everywhere around me.’
‘You are surrounded by your clan, your father and your Chief. Why would you think there is deceit?’
‘Did you not think that I felt deception when my father held back clan information, when he handed me off to you? When you agreed to marry me, then didn’t consummate the marriage?’ She pulled a pile of documents on her lap. ‘Leave Lochmore. Leave me to this. I’ll heal your friend; I’ll find the remedy in this mess I made. Then you can take Paiden and go. We’ll pretend it never happened. Maybe our arrangedmarriage in name only will be enough deterrent for war between our clans over the land.’
He was silent so long, she thought he’d finally listen to her and leave. Instead, though he stayed very still, she felt as if he moved closer. She knew it was the size of the room compared to the size of the man, but this close, her awareness of him was something more than that. She was aware of him by the subtle heat coming from his tall frame, and the way the air seemed to move differently around him. And though she couldn’t possibly see his steady brown eyes, she felt his measuring gaze on her.
And he kept looking at her despite her not looking back.
‘For a moment, forget the clans. How did you think it would be between us?’ Rory asked quietly.
‘There is no us.’ She kept staring at the papers in her lap. ‘I only hoped our union would be enough to stem the differences between our clans.’
‘And the differences within yours?’
Her gaze finally snapped to his. ‘There are differences in every clan.’
‘Not many clans have two rulers.’
‘Hamish is ill.’
‘But he was well enough at one point to ordersomeone to poison my friend. If I’m to believe your father innocent, then the order must have come from Hamish. Maybe that poison was meant for me.’
Her thoughts muddled, her tears threatening. She didn’t want poison or swords or talk of death any more. She’d had enough of it. Shuffling on her knees, she turned her back to him. ‘Can you not leave?’
‘You know of the secret meetings your father has been holding. Did you see Hamish have some as well?’
‘Hamish is the Chief, he has no meetings that are secret.’
‘But they are private.’
‘I’m a healer; not part of the council.’ A useless healer, for the documents in her lap she’d seen before. They were as worthless to her as this conversation. They didn’t provide the answers regarding the poison used, or who administered it. They didn’t even hint at what to do with this husband of hers, who sat with her on the floor.
‘You’re a healer, but you’re also part of this divided clan,’ Rory said. ‘One that most likely will be even more divided upon Hamish’s death. It is of little wonder why your father wanted to keep ruling, but what then with our marriage?’
‘We’re not married,’ she said stubbornly.
He exhaled roughly. A few papers ruffled next to them. ‘I felt married.’
She couldn’t breathe at all.
‘I felt married when I gave my vows, when we shared that bed,’ he said, his voice low almost reverent. ‘When I held you.’
She didn’t want to hear this. There was no purpose for this. Not for her and definitely not for him. He had no need for the deceit here. And, if she was right, and he was Hamish’s son... Hamish, who poisoned his friend, but might have wanted to poison his own child.
