Page 29 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

Mac

The mysterious Mac had called him Si, as though he knew her husband well indeed, but the note might easily have been sent by any of her new family who had been in attendance yesterday.

He watched her read, and though it was surely some kind of sin, she burned with pleasure at knowing she had an ally.

“Good news?” he asked evenly.

She didn’t know quite how to respond, and so she took a sip of tea.

From his sporran, Silas produced a lovely sheaf of cream-colored parchment. “Write back, if you like. Mrs. Kynoch will see it’s delivered.”

Ellen nodded into her tea. “Thank you,” she whispered, but no words escaped for anyone to hear.

Chapter Nine

It was ridiculous. Watching the lass read the letter, her cheeks slowly pinking at the words—his words—the stranglehold of jealousy tightened Si’s throat. On the one hand, it warmed him that she seemed delighted by the letter. On the other, he wanted to rip it from her fingers and explain that he was Mac, that they were his heartfelt compliments and fears.

Gripping the back of the chair before him, he took a moment to settle himself, counting his breaths and remembering this had been the plan, a way to comfort her, to get to know her, to study her so he might figure out what to do next.

Woo her, the cousin had said. Si had no experience wooing, had not even taken his pleasure with whores in Aberdeen, for they were still women, capable of getting with child. He didn’t know the first thing about wooing, and what would be the point, when he’d no intention of consummating the relationship? It would only make her feel all the more rejected.

But he didn’t want her to hate him, nor fear him, either. He sought… kinship. Companionship. He wasn’t skilled at making friends, but surely they could manage it if only he could keep his clumsy paws off her. And would she accept so little from him? Could he make her think a platonic fellowship was all she desired? He could only try, for what was the alternative? Sending her away somewhere? Never that. He’d been sent away as a child and no, being sent away from her household unto his was bad enough.

“I should like to show you the rest of the grounds today,” he told her. Indeed, what else was there to do?

She blinked up at him, as though she’d quite forgotten he was standing there while she became absorbed in the blasted letter. But then she nodded her agreement and went to dress behind the screen.

That was a fresh torment all its own, so Si retreated to his adjoining chamber once more.

They merely needed to survive the Gathering. Show a united front to the clan, accept the men’s oaths or convince them to swear allegiance to Bram, and then he’d have space to breathe and figure out the rest. If she wanted an annulment, he’d grant it, and send her back to Inverness, far out of temptation’s reach, though something told him if he ever let her leave, he might never be whole himself.

The door opened, but she didn’t so much as peek inside his sanctuary.

“Come.” He lifted the bar across her door. “The day is fine, though you might need a wrap.”

She picked up the knitted one she’d worn at breakfast, leaving his mother’s MacKenzie plaid still draped across the chair, as though she knew he never meant to truly make her his, and it pricked at his heart as well as his conscience. But she accepted his elbow, and they proceeded side by side out of the castle and across the grounds.

Leading Ellen, Si forced himself to take exceptionally shorter strides than he was accustomed, or else risk dragging the poor lass off her feet. It became more of a saunter, and he found himself chattering like a red squirrel to fill the silence, which was most unlike him. He couldn’t stand people who talked incessantly just to avoid having nothing to say.

“This was my mother’s garden many years ago. It was much less wild in those days, you ken,” he added, noting the weeds and thistles now choking out what had once been rose bushes, and the hydrangeas were not so much shrubs as cerulean oceans, cresting at his shoulders.

Lady Ellen looked left and right, taking it all in with wide, contented eyes. But with each step further from the castle, Si grew more ashamed of the garden’s dishevelment, just as he had the state of Leod the night before. In truth he’d always relished the garden’s wildness as a boy, but what had once been a controlled sort of freedom was now a veritable jungle that Si both recognized and didn’t.

“You can sometimes spot a wee bunny if you’re lucky, but don’t let on or Mrs. Kynoch will have their hides for dinner as punishment for nibbling her herbs.”

The lass smiled.

“If it’s wildlife you’re after,” he added, turning out of the garden and down the sloping grounds towards the paddock,” there’s a grove of yew trees but two miles past the stables, where you can find all manner of deer, squirrels, rabbits, and more birds than I can probably name. We forbid hunting there, so it’s quite safe, for you and the wee rabbits.”

She smiled again. A man could get used to that smile.

Si led her down to the stable, supposing one so still would find solace in its dusty walls and gentle occupants as he always had. But she let go of his arm the moment he crossed the threshold.

Her face was as fierce as he’d ever seen it, her brow deeply furrowed, her mouth turned to the side as though trying hard to suppress a frown. The fingers of her left hand bunched up the folds of her skirt. “Milady Ellen?” he asked. “You all right?”

Her eyes snapped to his, back from wherever she’d drifted to, and she took a deep breath and stepped inside.

“Milord,” Gawyn rasped, scrambling up from a low stool where he’d been dozing.