Page 25 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

She swallowed down that line of thinking and focused her mind instead to pray for the Kintail’s healing, doubting anyone heard that prayer either, and not because the room was more storage space than chapel, but because even this was selfishness born from desire to not be an immediate disappointment. Was she so flawed that she was incapable of lifting up a single wholly selfless prayer?

“There you are.” The MacKenzie’s tone was brusque, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “I’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Where should I have gone?” she muttered crossly to herself. After all, it wasn’t as though he’d finished the tour. She didn’t even know where she was meant to sleep.

“Ha?” he tilted his head, expecting some kind of answer, and she cast her gaze to the floor.

His father was ill, and here she was being rude. Selfish.

“You must be exhausted,” he said, sounding contrite and about as tired as Ellen had ever heard a person sound, as though he hadn’t properly slept in his whole life. “Come.” He motioned for her to follow him up the stairs to the third floor.

Silas led her down the corridor to a chamber where some kind soul had laid a fire and blanketed every surface with daffodils. The effect was a warm, cozy glow that even brightened the groom’s brooding amber eyes. There was a dressing screen in one corner, and Ellen’s trunk, which she’d quite forgotten about, was already waiting for her, packed with every item she owned in all the world.

“If there’s anything not to your liking, it can be changed,” he said. “You’ve but to ask.”

In a corner opposite the dressing screen stood an armchair, and draped across it, a length of plaid in deep grey and blue that matched his own. Ellen reached for it, trailing her fingers along the soft wool. She’d always found the bright reds and greens of the Mackintosh clan to be a bit too much, like a prickly holly thicket. The muted grey was much more to her liking.

“I thought,” he began, having stepped up behind her very close—how did one so large move without her hearing him? He cleared his throat to start again. “It was my mother’s.”

Such a sentimental gesture from her new husband should have made Ellen flush with pleasure, but tears pricked her eyes. He’d lost his mother, and now here she was planning to make him lose his wife. How much could even a hard-hearted man take? And this one didn’t seem so very hard at all.

She retracted her hand, unable to turn until she’d fought her face back into submission. When she finally did, he’d stepped back, out of her space, to the doorway.

“This can be barred from the inside.” He showed her a heavy wooden arm that could be lowered to block entry. “There’s none will harm you here, but with the Gathering in a few weeks’ time, you might feel more at ease knowing…”

A Gathering? Already? Hadn’t today’s revelry been enough to last these people a lifetime?

Her shock must have been evident on her face because he nodded grimly.

“Aye. The Gathering was news to me as well,” he said. “But the timing makes sense given how many traveled in for today. None should trouble you, but you’d be wise to bar the door all the same.”

Ellen wasn’t sure she had the strength to lower it on her own, let alone lift it again when she was inclined to leave, or why she would need to with a man like Silas in her bed, but she nodded her agreement.

“Through here is my library.” He opened an adjoining door. You’re welcome to any books that take your interest.”

Tilting her head, Ellen glimpsed an empty fireplace, the corner of a desk, and another armchair with a matching footstool.

“There’s no bolt for this one, I’m afraid, though I did mean to have one installed,” he explained. “I’ll go on through, then you can knot this bit of rope around the handle just so, and it will be impossible to open from that side.”

Ellen frowned. He meant to spend tonight—his wedding night—in a cold library alone?

“I willnae trouble you.”

What had Mrs. Leask said? That he preferred books to people? Maybe his aunt hadn’t been exaggerating after all.

What she supposed must be relief swept over her, mixed with a fresh wave of unshed tears. He didn’t intend to consummate their union tonight. Was it because of his disappointment about the nursing? Perhaps for once her prayers had been answered. She said another quick one for the Kintail just in case.

The thing was, she’d been preparing herself for this moment all day—all week. And now, what? She’d have to wait like a criminal at the end of a rope, not knowing when the floor would drop away? Would he come for her tomorrow? Or the next day? Would he wait until her defenses were completely down and surprise her?

“You’ve had a long day,” he murmured. “And more’n a wee bit to drink. There’s no reason it has to happen tonight. Or at all until you’re ready. No one will know.”

She tried to smile at him, but her face scrunched up tight so she nodded and turned quickly away. She didn’t look back at where he’d been standing until she heard the door close softly behind him.

And that was that. Ellen Elizabeth Brìghde Mackintosh was now Lady Ellen MacKenzie, and the future Laird MacKenzie was so disgusted with her fecklessness that he would choose to spend his wedding night with books and papers, and she would spend hers all alone. It was no more than she deserved.

She was finally getting exactly what she wanted, to be left alone, and like an ungrateful wretch, she was still deeply unhappy with her situation.

“Don’t forget the latch, ’Lady ’Len,” he called through the door, his voice so soft it made her shiver.