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“Is that what ye think o’ me?” he snapped. “Eh? Ye think I slept wi’ ye for me own gain? Ye think I lied to yer brother an’ sister? Ye think I’ve been plottin’ against ye this whole time?”
“Alexander, I—” she started, but it was his turn to feel the fury now. He took a step forward, and she shrank back, the huge difference in their heights blatantly obvious now.
“Nae, nae body gets to come in here an’ talk to me like that an’ Alexander me. In case ye forget, Miss O’Donnel, I am yer Laird. I owe ye nothin’ but the services yer fealty buys.”
She swallowed, staring up at him, and it made his heart ache. But he was more angry than anything else.
How could she accuse me o’ this? After everythin’?
“An’ what fealty have ye shown? Ye lied to yer landlord for the best part o’ a year. Ye continue to deal wi’ illegal clans—an’ dinnae tell me otherwise because
I saw yer precious book.”
Cicilia shook her head. “The farm—”
“Yer faither’s farm. Jamie’s farm,” Alexander interrupted harshly. “Nae yers. I had every right, the second I kent what was goin’ on—in fact, even before that—to take it from ye. I have a thousand young men who’d be better suited an’ would nae put me at risk.”
She glared up at him. “So ye admit it!”
Obstinate, frustratin’ lass!
“Nay!” he cried in exasperation. “Nay, Cicilia, I dinnae admit anythin’. But let me ask ye, did I do that? Did I take yer farm? Or have I housed ye an’ fed ye an’ purchased new animals for ye? Have I tried to aid the rebuilding efforts? Have I kept yer secret?!”
She said nothing, though she looked a little scared as her back pressed against the door, and he stood over her there. He could almost hear her heart racing in her chest…and that just make him angrier.
That she’d look at me so scared, after everythin’…did she even ever ken me at a’? Did she even really want to?
Abruptly, he took a step back. “Get out o’ me study, Miss O’Donnel.”
She blinked at him, tears in her eyes. “Nay, Alexander, Me Laird, ye’re right, I—”
“Get out, I said,” he commanded loudly.
With one more pale, wide-eyed look, she turned and scampered away.
Alexander walked back to his desk, the blind fury making it difficult to see and causing a pulsing headache just above his brow. He sank into his chair, and the world around him suddenly looked bleak.
His elbows propped on the table, he sunk his head into his hands. He wasn’t sure yet, but it felt like his heart had just shattered. And he wasn’t certain it would ever be repaired.
Chapter 20
Errare Humanum Est
To Err is Human
Cicilia had regretted her accusations almost immediately, of course, but as soon as they left her lips, it was too late. She went to sleep that night, unable to forget the hurt on his face, and for the three days following, she barely had a chance to do anything about it. Every time she would have normally been alone with the Laird, he found an excuse to be elsewhere.
How am I supposed to fix this if he will nae talk to me?!
She’d tried speaking to Nathair, but although he was polite, it was very clear that he was annoyed with her, too. Alexander must have told him what she’d said. Meanwhile, Jeanie could offer an ear, but not much in the way of advice. And so, on the fourth day, she decided to do something about it.
Cicilia bundled up the twins, forgoing the offered guard and walking them down to the village alone. The castle village was much like Wauton, though the shops were bigger, and the discrepancies in the homes between the rich side and poor side of town significantly more apparent.
She started at the baker, knowing that the twins would be easier to manage if she bribed them with some sweets. The baker and his wife were both behind the counter, bickering about something, when Cicilia and the twins walked in.
“An’ I’m just sayin’, Ron, that if ye want to make money, ye service the castle! Honestly, would I have had to deal wi’ this pigheadedness if I’d have married yer brother like I was supposed to?” the young woman demanded.
Her significantly older husband sighed in frustration. “It’s me business, Susan, an’ if I dinnae want to cater for the poncy Laird an’ his stuck up accomptant, then—”
