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Chrisdean nodded in understanding, taking Nimue’s hand off his shoulder and holding it in his own. “How did she die if ye dinna mind me askin’?”
“She fell off a horse and broke her neck,” Nimue said, and her voice sounded distant, devoid of emotion. It seemed to be the only way she could talk about her mother, as if anything more, any hint of emotion, would be too much, enough to break her. “It happened right before me eyes. I saw it all. I was a bairn when it happened, and so were me siblings. They’re . . . there’s two of them. Twins. It’s been so long since it happened, but—”
“But it feels like it happened yesterday,” Chrisdean said, finishing off her sentence for her. “Aye, I ken. It’s the same for me.”
Nimue looked at him then, and Chrisdean had never thought that he would see such a raw, open look on her face. She was usually so guarded with him, her hatred toward him making her clam up every time she saw him, but now there was none of that in her expression.
“Na a day passes when I dinna wish that she were still with me,” Nimue said. “But at least I have me faither and me brother and sister, at least I ken that they’re alive. I canna imagine what it must be like for ye. Ye’re . . . all alone.”
Nimue sounded sad at the notion that Chrisdean was alone, but he simply flashed her a reassuring smile. “I’m na alone,” he said. “I have Brock and Mairi. I dinna ken what I would have done without them. They’re me parents noo, and they’ve guided me when I needed it the most. They were both always all over me, ever since I was born, but when me family died, they became me only family.”
Chrisdean loved them both to death. He didn’t know what he would do if something happened to either of them, but he was certain that it would be just as devastating as the deaths of his family had been. The mere thought of losing Brock and Mairi made his stomach churn, and his hands tremble. It was something that he never wanted to think about.
“And besides, I have me clan, too,” he added, hastily chasing away thoughts of Brock’s and Mairi’s potential deaths. “Me people are me family. I wouldna say that I’ve ever been alone.”
He had never put much thought into it before, though he had always been grateful that he had someone to call family. He wondered idly, just for a brief moment, if Nimue would ever end up being a part of it.
“It’s good,” Nimue said. “It’s good that ye have someone. Me faither . . . he isna like Brock or Mairi, but I suppose ye already kent that. He can be insufferable sometimes.”
“I suppose we all do what we think is best for our clans,” Chrisdean said. “Yer faither may be doin’ something that will ruin all of Scotland, but I dinna think he does it out of malice. He simply thinks it’s the right thing to do.”
“Aye, and he’s obsessed with England,” Nimue said. “Me name, me siblings’ names, our upbringin’, everythin’ was always about England. Had me maither na raised us to love Scotland, then I wouldna even ken a single thing about it. I canna understand him sometimes . . . weel, I canna understand him at all, ever. I canna understand how he can love England more than his own home.”
“It sounds like it bothers ye.”
“It does. Of course, it does,” Nimue said. “Scotland is me home, too. As much as ye may think that ye’re the only one who cares about it and its people, I can assure ye that ye’re wrong. I told ye that I dinna agree with me faither. I dinna agree with anythin’ that he does, but there’s na stoppin’ him.”
“Weel . . . ye could marry me,” Chrisdean said with a smile, and the eye roll that Nimue gave him seemed fond rather than angry. “I have told ye before that I believe it’ll solve all of our problems, yers and mine alike.”
“Ye can ask me as many times as ye wish, me Laird, but I will never agree to marry ye,” Nimue said, but there was no anger in her tone this time, just some exasperation at being asked over and over. “I think I’ve made that perfectly clear.”
“Ye dinna need to call me that, ye ken,” Chrisdean said. “Ye can just call me Chrisdean. I dinna call ye ‘me Lady,’ do I?”
“Perhaps ye should.”
“Na . . . I dinna think I will.”
There was a strange warmth inside him as he looked at Nimue. He didn’t know where that fondness had come from since they had spent most of the time they had known each other in anger and frustration, but the more he talked to her, the more he grew to like her. Nimue was clever and quick to answer with a jab of her own every time that he teased her, keeping up with him as few people could. She was a challenge, and Chrisdean liked nothing more than a challenge.
“Have ye always been this insufferable, Chrisdean?” Nimue asked, and though she had used his name, Chrisdean could tell that it hadn’t brought them any nearer to each other. “I canna imagine how anyone puts up with ye.”
“Ach, with great difficulty, I can assure ye of that,” Chrisdean said. “How do ye put up with me?”
“Och, I dinna ken.”
For a moment, there was silence between them, and Chrisdean could feel the tension building. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was leaning closer to Nimue, eager to taste her once more. His attraction to her was an unstoppable force, uncontrollable and overpowering. Nimue was right there, inches away from his own lips, and all he had to do was bridge that gap.
He pulled back before he could get any further, jumping up to his feet as though he had been burned by Nimue’s mere presence.
I canna do it. I shouldna do it.
He had seen what happened the last time he had kissed her. He had had to deal with the aftermath, and he had learned his lesson. Nimue had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want him, and though he was still determined to marry her, he wasn’t going to kiss her without permission again.
Chrisdean began to pace back and forth, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. He had come so close to making another mistake, but he took comfort in the fact that he had stopped himself before it was too late. The best course of action, he decided, was to pretend that nothing had happened at all.
“Weel . . . it is gettin’ late, lass,” he said, giving her a small, hesitant smile. “I do believe that it is time we get back to the castle.”
Nimue’s expression was unreadable, which was quite a surprise for Chrisdean. Even when she was furious with him, he could always tell. Now, he had no idea what was going through her head, but he didn’t dare ask. He simply waited until she stood, nodding in agreement, and then helped her back onto the horse before he rode off.
The entire way back to the castle was spent in silence. Chrisdean couldn’t find any words to say, and it seemed to him as though Nimue had nothing to say either, or perhaps she had something to say, but she didn’t want to share her thoughts with him. Either way, Chrisdean could only curse himself for creating such a tense atmosphere between them once more. It had seemed to him that Nimue had started to open up to him, to become more receptive, and he had managed to ruin it all within the span of a few moments.
Great job ye did there, Chrisdean. Truly great.
Once they made it back to the castle, Chrisdean didn’t dare sprint, but he did walk as fast as he could towards the stairs that led to his chambers. He knew that Nimue was following him, though he couldn’t possibly know whether she did so because she wanted to talk to him or to get to her own chambers, but he didn’t spare her a single glance. He only became aware of her apparent desire to speak to him when he turned to close his door and saw her there, her mouth hanging open in preparation to speak.
Chrisdean hastily closed the door with a slam, shutting Nimue out of his room and cutting her speech short before it had even started. He stumbled backward toward his bed, eyes wide as he watched the door, as though he expected Nimue to burst through it at any moment. When she didn’t, he allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.
Whatever Nimue had to say to him, Chrisdean was certain that it wasn’t good. He didn’t think he could bear to listen.
