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Chapter Sixteen
Nimue awoke in an empty bed. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she must have slept for a long time, she thought, as the sun was blindingly bright, the clouds from the previous night having disappeared from the sky.
Chrisdean must be up already. I canna believe I slept so long!
A smile came over Nimue’s lips. She was happy, truly happy for the first time in a long while. She could hardly believe that she had been so pessimistic about her marriage to Chrisdean, and she felt as though she owed him an apology.
Chrisdean had been right all along, she thought. Their marriage would not only benefit their clans and Scotland, but it was also something that Nimue wanted. She could feel the first flutters of affection in her stomach, and she knew that Chrisdean was the kind of man that she could love for the rest of her life, at least once they would get to know each other a little better. There was no reason to rush anything anymore, at least in Nimue’s mind. The foundations of their marriage had already been laid, and now all they had to do was build upon them.
She couldn’t help but think back to the night they had shared. She was a little sore, she had to admit, but she had never felt pleasure like that before, and all she could think about was having that same feeling again. Carefully, she let a curious hand roam to her opening, fingers probing gently. She shuddered at the feeling and at the memory of Chrisdean inside her, but she wished that it was his hand there, not her own. His own fingers were so big, like the rest of him, and she couldn’t help but crave his body.
Her hand wouldn’t do. She wanted Chrisdean.
Nimue sat up on the bed, stretching her arms over her head. She basked in the bliss that came with being a newlywed, and then she stood, letting her night shift—or what remained of it—fall off her body. She dressed quickly, a little sloppily even, and then she was out of the door, eager to see Chrisdean.
While walking around the castle, Nimue couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. The more she looked for him, though, the more her smile fell until she wasn’t smiling at all anymore.
When she ran into Ailsa in the hallway, though, her smile returned. “Ailsa!” she said, calling after her. “Do ye ken where the Laird is? I’ve been lookin’ for him all over the castle.”
Ailsa turned to look at her, a small frown on her face. “He left, me lady,” she said. “Didna he tell ye? He went to visit the villages.”
“He did?” Nimue asked, for lack of anything better to say. She could hardly believe that Chrisdean had simply left the day after their wedding without saying anything to her. She didn’t want Ailsa to know that, though, and so she simply smiled, waving a hand dismissively. “Of course, I remember noo,” she said. “I forgot that he told me. Weel . . . do ye ken when he’ll be back?”
“Na, me lady,” Ailsa said.
With a nod, Nimue turned around and walked right back to her chambers. Any glee that she had had only a few minutes prior had now dissipated, leaving nothing but anger in its place.
How could he just leave? He didna even say anythin’ to me!
Then, reality crashed down around her just as she perched herself on the edge of her bed. Chrisdean had left because he had realized that he didn’t want that marriage, she thought. He had used the trip to the villages as an excuse to get away from her for a while, and when he would return, things would be worse.
Even if Nimue was mistaken and Chrisdean had not regretted their marriage, she still felt entitled to her anger. After the night they had shared, she was at least expecting Chrisdean to talk to her about it, to apologize, perhaps, for being so forward with her even after she had told him that she didn’t want him when he was drunk. The fact that she had quickly changed her mind didn’t mean anything to her at that moment.
Nimue spent the rest of the day in her chambers, stewing in her own fury. As time passed, she expected Chrisdean to return, but he never did, and night fell over the land. The entire day, no one dared to bother her, save for Ailsa, who brought her food and tea—and when Nimue touched neither, wine—without asking any questions. Nimue was grateful for that; she didn’t want to answer any.
That night, Nimue stayed awake, pacing in her room until dawn. She didn’t get a minute of sleep, and though the next day she was tired, she also couldn’t wait for Chrisdean to return so that she could give him a piece of her mind.
It wasn’t just the bitterness at Chrisdean’s sudden disappearance that ate at her. It was also the worry about her father, who was still in the hands of the English. Nimue wanted to believe that Chrisdean had a plan to save him from Wentworth and his men, but naturally, she couldn’t find out what that plan could be until Chrisdean returned. Until then, her father would be in grave danger, and that only angered Nimue more.
How could he leave when he kens that Wentworth wants to kill me faither? What if he doesna return? Perhaps he’ll spend days travellin’ around the villages.
That seemed more likely as the time passed and Chrisdean was nowhere to be found. She knew that the moment he would return, she would be aware of his presence as her chambers faced the courtyard, but no matter how many hours she spent by that window, she didn’t see him.
That was until later that day, just as the sun was setting. She saw him and Brock, the two of them riding through the side of the gates, Chrisdean laughing at something that Brock said. Nimue hated him in an instant. He didn’t look like he was sorry, nor did he look like he felt any guilt for leaving her alone, and it infuriated to see it.
Fuming, she stood by the door, arms crossed over her chest as she waited for Chrisdean to come find her, determined to stay there for as long as she had to.
It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door. The moment she heard it, she knew that it wasn’t Ailsa; her knock was gentle, while this one was loud, insistent.
“Come in,” Nimue said, eyes already staring daggers at the door. When Chrisdean opened the door, she could almost feel her resolve crumble, but she pulled herself together. She wasn’t going to forgive him so easily, she told himself, just because he was handsome and had a charming smile.
Or because he was holding a bouquet of flowers, their vibrant colors rivaling the sweet scent that wafted through the air.
“Nimue,” Chrisdean said with a small nod of his head. “Are ye weel?”
“Weel?” Nimue asked, cocking a curious eyebrow. “Am I weel? I dinna think so, me Laird. I wonder what makes ye think so, since ye left without sayin’ anythin’ at all, the day after our wedding! Ye disappeared without a word!”
“Aye, I ken, and I am verra sorry for what I did,” Chrisdean said, taking a tentative step towards Nimue. “I canna explain to ye just how sorry I am, for everythin’ that I did. I ken that ye must hate me noo, and ye have every reason to hate me, but I only ask of ye that ye allow me to explain.”
