He didn’t even move to stop her as she got off the table and walked away.
15
“Well, well, well, look who we have here.”
The absolute last thing Kaden needed right now was small talk.
He didn’t know why he had gone to the closest pub in the village in the first place. He ought to have just stayed at the castle and drowned himself in whiskey in his own bedroom. That would have been the better place to brood.
But he didn’t trust himself inside his own head at times like this. It would only trigger the desolation. Most nights, he could handle it, even on the nights when he needed to have the room illuminated by more candlelight than was feasible.
He didn’t mind being alone, but not tonight. Even the chatter in the pub was preferable to drinking alone.
He glanced at the barkeep with an upward jerk of his chin in greeting and moved to the table at the back of the room.
One drink turned into two, then into five, then into seven as the hours ticked by slowly. He could have made conversation, as these were his people, but he no longer had anything in common with them. Not really. The casual exchange of tales from their days didn’t apply to him, and he no longer had the tolerance for chatter.
It was good to see them, to remember their faces, even if they tended to keep glancing in his direction with nothing but fear. He knew that he had been warmly accepted back into his clan, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t afraid. They all could see that there was something dangerous lurking inside of him, even if they were kind enough to pretend that they didn’t see it.
At least the whiskey was keeping him warm and steadying his nerves. He was very far from intoxicated, but at least it took the edge off the memories of Emily.
She had been repulsed by him.
It had been a risk, engaging with her like that. But when she looked like that, how was he supposed to stop himself? She had been so warm and pliant. Her softness against his body made him damn near lightheaded and dizzy.
Until she had touched him. Until her fingers had brushed that jagged, torn skin and she had paused. No doubt, she had to fight the urge to retch. He wouldn’t be surprised.
When Kaden had come back to Muir, the healers who had attended to him had had difficulty finding skin decent enough to stitch him back together. He could vividly remember one of the less-experienced ones vomiting at the sight of his back and promptly passing out.
More than once, when he had been with a woman, he had had to be creative to keep them from seeing too much, overcompensating where he needed to in order to keep them from questioning anything. Even the few who hadseen something that he would rather they hadn’t, their opinions meant so little to him.
But Emily’s opinion of him mattered.
If she was repulsed by him, how was their marriage going to work? She had seemed upset that he had stopped, but she had a kind heart. No doubt, she had been trying to placate him.
Still, he was more wounded than he had thought he would be. He could not care that deeply for her already. It was impossible. He had only just met her, for God’s sake.
His eighth glass of whiskey was delivered to the table with a small chunk of still-warm bread and some soft cheese.
The barkeep smiled kindly at him as he nodded at the bread. “So yer head willnae kill ye in the morning.”
Kaden nodded his thanks but didn’t touch the bread. He appreciated the gesture. What he didn’t appreciate, however, was the company that invited itself to sit at the table with him.
“Me Laird,” the older man started.
Kaden’s shoulders tensed at the sight of him, the phantom ache in his knuckles surfacing from the last time he had nearly driven his fist through the man’s jaw. His name escaped him at present, but Kaden didn’t even understand why he had stayed here after the cèilidh.
Kaden didn’t greet him, lest he think that he was welcome to share the table with him, which he absolutely wasnot.
“Begging yer pardon for the intrusion, Laird Muir. I willnae take up too much of yer time,” the man spoke quickly, wincing in discomfort.
Bruises still covered the bridge of his nose and purpled the skin beneath his eyes as he spoke. His nose was absolutely broken, and Kaden could hear it in his voice and the way he spoke—thick with congestion.
Kaden hid a smirk behind the rim of his glass as he took a small sip. He stared at the man, unblinking, until he realized what the man wanted.
“I wanted to apologize, and also to congratulate ye. News of yer betrothal has spread quickly.”
Kaden hummed a low sound of acknowledgement and said nothing.
