They crossed the bailey, stopping near the entrance stairway. Malcolm was at her side to lift her from her perch before she’d even realized he’d dismounted. She held her breath against the aches and pains of the bruises she’d received in the battle against Torquil, resting her forehead against his chest when he set her on her feet.
“Have Eric bring the families of the men we lost to my solar. I’ll break the news to them, though I’m sure they’ve already guessed, since we’ve returned alone.”
His voice rumbled in his chest, physically comforting though the words he spoke to Patrick speared her heart.
“I should be there with you when you speak to them since I was there when . . .” She couldn’t finish the sentence. The memory was still too raw.
“No. You’ll take Ele—” He caught himself and started again. “You’ll take Syrie to her aunt’s old chambers and see that she’s settled in. This is no a place for you to be.”
“I understand that I’m not the mistress of Castle MacGahan and so it’s not my official place to be there, but I was there when Torquil hanged those men. I should speak to their families.” No matter how much it hurt to do so. Their men had died because they had accompanied her to Tordenet in order to protect her. She owed their families.
“No.” Malcolm’s refusal brooked no argument. “And no because yer no the wife of the laird but because the memories you have of their men’s last moments are no memories their women need to share. Leave their families the solace that their men died in glorious battle, no strung up helpless like beasts to slaughter. Now go. See to yer friend.”
Dani went to Syrie, slipping an arm around the Faerie’s waist to help her up the stairs.
Malcolm was right. Of course he was right. She was being selfish in wanting to try to rid herself of the guilt she carried over the deaths of Eymer, Guy, and Hamund.
But the time for selfishness was over. The time had come when she would have to consider the needs of others over her own.
Forty-two
SHE SIMPLY COULDN’Tdo this.
Dani stood in the center of her bedchamber, at a loss as to what she actually could do. But whatever it was, it wasn’t this.
She loved this room, from the delicate table and chairs near the fire to the intricately carved fireplace itself. It felt like she belonged here.
Only she didn’t.
This was the chamber belonging to the laird’s wife, connected directly to the laird’s chamber. And very soon, there would be another woman who should occupy this room, a thought that made her physically ill.
She’d made the decision to move while they were still a day away from Castle MacGahan. Her challenge now was to follow through on that decision. The room next to Syrie’s was open. That would be the logical choice.
But logical didn’t make it feel right. The more she considered Malcolm’s having a wife, the more she realized she couldn’t do this.
No matter what room she lived in, Malcolm would be with another woman and she simply couldn’t handle seeing that day in, day out.
As she’d helped Syrie settle in after their journey, she’d suggested that they both might leave here and go to the Faerie’s home, but her friend hadn’t been the least bit receptive. In fact, after mumbling something about using Magic she shouldn’t have used, she indicated she’d be staying here for the foreseeable future.
That left Dani with only one real option: to return to her own time. Granted, it hadn’t worked when she’d tried before, but, honestly, how hard had she tried? And that was before Elesyria had told her about the rowan wood and its supposed Magical powers.
And yet here she stood, dithering in the middle of the room, no closer to making up her mind than she had been an hour ago.
A knock at the door separating her room from Malcolm’s interrupted another round of indecision and she went to answer it.
“I thought perhaps we could take our evening meal together, in my chambers.”
He was freshly shaven and his dark hair was damp where the ends lay upon his shoulders, leaving little wet spots on his untucked shirt, as if he’d just bathed and hurriedly dressed. He held out an arm, clearly inviting her to cross into his room.
One step inside the door and she knew she’d made a serious mistake.
Candles burned everywhere. They lined the mantel, sat on tables and chairs and even on the floor near the walls. A tray of food waited on the table, surrounded by more candles and, next to the table, in front of the hearth, a huge wooden tub. From here she could smell the herbal fragrance of the steam wafting off the water.
“Oh, Malcolm.” She felt as if her heart would truly break. “You’ve done all this for me?”
He shrugged carelessly, though a wicked grin crept over his face. “Maybe not entirely for you. I’m expecting I’ll take a wee bit of pleasure in the evening myself.”
Taking her hand, he led her over to the tub, where he began to slowly unlace her overdress. It pooled at her feet, quickly followed by her shift.
