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Chapter Eight
Marriage was horrible.
Evelinde grimaced as the thought ran through her head for about the hundredth time since she'd sat down to mend a small tear in her green gown. It was three days since the Comyns had visited. Evelinde had quite enjoyed seeing them once she was dressed properly. Ellie, Lady Comyn, was a charming, amusing, and elegant woman like her own mother had been. The sort of woman Evelinde had hoped to be, but apparently had failed miserably at becoming.
Sighing, she sewed another stitch, her eyes seeking out her husband where he sat at the table talking to Fergus. Apparently, Cullen could speak, Evelinde thought bitterly as she watched his mouth move in what appeared to be a whole sentence rather than one of the grunts he doled out to her.
The man rarely bothered actually to say anything to her. Evelinde tried repeatedly to engage him in conversation with no success. Hoping to encourage him, she'd chattered on about her life growing up, her parents, her brother, her mare, and so on. She'd even managed to slip in a reference to her beloved tapestries and her sorrow that she hadn't been able to bring them. What she'd spoken of most, though, was Mildrede and Mac. She missed them terribly and said so at every opportunity In turn, Cullen had grunted.
He hadn't even given her an answer when she'd asked what duties he would like her to take on now that she was at Donnachaidh. Met with the usual discouraging silence, she'd let that go to keep her promise to Biddy and asked if he couldn't have some men aid the women with the heavier tasks in the kitchens and elsewhere in the castle. All she'd received for her trouble was a look that suggested the very idea was mad.
If it weren't for the fact that Evelinde had seen his lips move in what appeared to be actual conversations with others, she would have thought the man incapable of forming whole sentences. However, she had, and Evelinde now suspected the truth was that he simply didn't care to trouble himself to speak to her. She was beginning to think he was regretting their marriage. Not that he was mean or cruel, but he also hadn't touched her again since consummating the marriage. It seemed that what she had thought was a beautiful, exciting, and world-shattering event had not even been enjoyable for Cullen. Else why had he not repeated the experience?
That was the question running repeatedly through her mind as she'd lain in the dark next to him at night, listening to him breathe: Why did he not touch her again?
Evelinde was miserable. She missed Mildrede and Mac, felt bereft and lost in her new home, and had not even her husband's kisses and caresses to comfort her. Instead, she moped about during the day and lay awake in bed at night, tears streaming silently from her eyes as she imagined this to be her life from now on: a silent, uncaring husband and not even a friend to speak to.
Well, there was Biddy, Evelinde reminded herself. But Cullen's aunt was forever busy, hustling about the kitchen, directing staff and chopping up chickens or performing other such tasks. Evelinde hated to bother her while she was so busy filling in for Donnachaidh's normal cook, so tried to avoid pestering her too much, which left her lonely, and growing more so all the time, to the point that last night she'd wished briefly that she were back at d'Aumesbery. While Edda could make life unpleasant, at least Evelinde had someone to talk to there, and during those rare moments when she managed to get away from the keep, she'd found peace and a measure of happiness riding Lady or sitting by the clearing. Something she feared she would never find at Donnachaidh.
Aye, it was turning out that marriage was not as wonderful as she'd thought the day after arriving here. Evelinde sighed as she noted that the last few stitches she'd sewn were crooked. Grimacing, she began to tear them out. It seemed she could not do anything right anymore. At least nothing she'd attempted to do here had met with any measure of success. She couldn't get her husband to talk, couldn't sew a straight line, and couldn't even gain a bit of information that would help her sort out why Cullen's uncle, father, and wife might have been murdered.
Evelinde sighed again as she thought on the last subject. When she hadn't been trying to get her husband to talk these last few days, or tending to her duties here as Lady Donnachaidh, she'd spent her time delving into the matter of the three deaths.
All she'd really done was ask questions. Evelinde had started with his aunt, trying to be casual about it, but Biddy had caught on to what she was up to at once and told her to "let it lie. The last thing Cullen needs is another dead wife. " Evelinde had reluctantly given up on quizzing the woman and turned to asking her questions of others instead. She'd spoken to several maids, Scatchy—who it turned out was the stable master—Fergus, and a few others, but none of them had been very forthcoming on the subject either. All she'd gained was a stern lecture from Fergus assuring her that her husband had not killed anyone and that she shouldn't believe the rumors and nonsense.
Cullen was a good man, he'd informed her, and she should concentrate on being a good wife to him. Feeling suitably chastened, Evelinde had let the subject drop at once.
So far, she had got nowhere with that effort. It was another failure, in her mind, and it irritated Evelinde because she wasn't even sure why she had troubled herself to ask around about the subject. She'd started out telling herself it was because she wanted to do something nice for her husband in return for his thoughtfulness in packing a bag for her, but suspected the truth was that, like his first wife, little Maggie, she was hoping to win his affection, or at least his attention, by clearing his name.
And was that not a sad state of affairs? Evelinde thought to herself with disgust. She did not even know why she cared. 'Twas a marriage, and marriages rarely included love. They were business associations. Through their marriage, Cullen had gained a healthy dower, and she'd gained a home for the rest of her days. Without it, she would have either been a burden to her brother, living at d'Aumesbery like Edda would, or she would have found herself shipped off to a nunnery. Love wasn't a part of marriage. Her parents hadn't loved each other when they'd first wed, that had come later, and they'd been lucky to find it. Most husbands and wives didn't come to love each other.
"My lady. "
"Aye?" Evelinde glanced up to see who addressed her and gasped, "Mildrede!"
The maid laughed gaily as Evelinde tossed her sewing aside and threw herself out of the chair and into the maid's arms.
"Oh, Mildrede, I have missed you so!"
"And I, you," the maid assured her with a laugh as she hugged her back.
"What are you doing here?" Evelinde asked, pulling back just far enough to see her face.
Mildrede's eyebrows rose at the question. "Where else would I be? I am your lady's maid. My place is with you. "
"Aye, but—" Evelinde paused, confusion rife within her. She turned to seek out her husband for an explanation, but her gaze caught on the man standing a couple of feet behind the maid, and her eyes widened incredulously. "Mac?"
His dear face split into a wide grin at her disbelief and he nodded. " 'Tis I. "
Slipping from Mildrede's hold, Evelinde now hurried to the man and gave him a hug as well. "I cannot believe you are here. "
"Nor can I," he admitted wryly. "Never thought I'd see me beloved Scotland again, but here I be, and glad of it," he added grimly. "We couldna leave d'Aumesbery quick enough fer me liking. Edda was taking out her temper on all and sundry once ye were no there for her to focus her frustration and anger on. "
When Evelinde frowned at this news, he quickly added, "Ne'er fear though. We passed a small traveling party on the way out and stopped to find it was Alexander returning. He'll take Edda in hand. "
"My brother is back?" Evelinde asked with a gasp of both happiness and relief. She'd begun to fear he'd been badly injured or killed in Tunis. But he had not, and he was home. It was almost as great a gift as having Mildrede and Mac returned to her, she thought, and turned excitedly to her husband as he took her arm to draw her away from Mac's embrace. "Can we visit him? I have not seen my brother in three years. "
&
nbsp; "Not right now," Cullen answered. "Later in the year, mayhap. But ye can invite him to visit us do ye wish. "
She nodded, excited at the prospect, then gestured to Mildrede and Mac, and asked, "Are they here for good?"
Cullen nodded.
"Mildrede can stay?" she asked, needing clarification.
"She's yer maid," he said simply.
"And Mac?"
"Ye said he was yer friend. " Cullen shrugged. "He's a Scot, and Scatchy is getting old, he'll need someone to take his place and direct his daughter in the stables. "
Evelinde stilled at these words. She'd known Scatchy worked in the stables, one of the few men who seemed actually to do anything other than practice at sword play, but hadn't realized the man's daughter worked there as well. Not that it mattered much to her at that point. She was more concerned with what her husband had done for her.
"You sent for them because you knew I missed them?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes as she realized he had actually listened to her after all.
"Nay. "
Evelinde glanced around at that word to see a tall, very handsome, fair-haired man moving toward them. She recognized him at once as one of the men who had arrived at d'Aumesbery with her husband, but who had remained behind when they'd left. She had no idea who he was, though.
"Tavis," he introduced himself, apparently reading the confusion on her face. "I'm Cullen's cousin. Yers, too, now that yer wed. "
"Oh," Evelinde managed a smile and nodded. "Hello, cousin Tavis. "
Tavis's smile widened at her prim greeting, eyes twinkling, then he turned to gesture to the men who had followed and introduced them, "Gillie, Rory, and Jasper. "
Evelinde nodded to each of the grinning men in turn, then shifted her attention back to Tavis as he explained, "Cullen ordered your things brought ere leaving d'Aumesbery. While the three of ye left, he ordered us to stay behind long enough for a wagon to be packed with yer belongings and follow. "
"Aye, me lady," a short, freckled, strawberry blond Tavis had introduced as Gillie said. "We got here as quick as we could but had to travel more slowly because of the wagon. "
Evelinde stared at the men, slowly understanding that this, then, was where they'd disappeared to.
They'd stayed behind to escort the wagon to Donnachaidh; a wagon with her belongings.
"We brought everything of yours," Mildrede said, drawing her attention again. "Edda tried to stop us at first, but Tavis and the men just told her to stay out of the way. We have your tapestries and—"
The maid stopped speaking because Evelinde had whirled away at that point and was rushing for the doors.
"Oh!" Evelinde gasped as she slammed through the door and paused on the top of the keep stairs to stare down at the overloaded wagon waiting in front. She peered at the familiar items on the wagon with wide eyes, then glanced back when the doors opened behind her. A beaming Mildrede and Mac stepped out first, followed by Cullen and the four men who had escorted the wagon.
"You brought my chairs from my room," she said with amazement, turning back and running lightly down the stairs to the wagon.
"Aye. Mildrede wanted to bring yer bed, too, but it wouldna fit," Tavis informed her with amusement, leading the other men down the stairs to follow Mildrede and Mac to the wagon as Evelinde moved around it, touching familiar items as she passed.
It was like having a little bit of home with her. Each item held memories, both good and bad. The good memories were of her parents, the bad were of Edda. Evelinde decided she would only remember the good and forget the bad. She had enough problems at present without troubling about the past. The past was done. Edda could not hurt or humiliate her anymore, so carrying those memories with her would only be her hurting herself in Edda's stead.
"My tapestries," she murmured, caressing the end of one of the rolls, then her gaze moved on. "The cushions Mother and I embroidered!"
"And all your clothes, and even the embroidered linens your mother put aside for you," Mildrede said with a grin, then sobered somewhat as she added, "And your parents' portraits. "
Evelinde felt tears well in her eyes and quickly dashed them away as she turned to offer her husband a small smile.
"Thank you," she murmured with heartfelt gratitude.
He grunted.
Evelinde frowned, her gaze sweeping back to the wagon. She shook her head as she recalled how upset she'd been when she thought she'd never see these things again. In truth, though, she would have given them all up to have Mildrede and Mac with her, but it seemed she'd lost neither her dear maid and friend nor her things. All her upset and depression had been for naught.
"Why did you not tell me they were coming?" Evelinde asked with bewilderment. Had he done so the last few days would not have been so dark and gloomy for her. She would have been able to enjoy the anticipation of their arrival as a much-needed bright spot in her day.
Cullen shrugged. "Ye assumed I would no see yer things brought, so I left ye to believe what ye wished. "
"What I wished?" Evelinde asked with disbelief, anger stirring in her. "You think I wished to don your dead wife's gown and make a complete cake of myself in front of our neighbors because I thought I had naught but the clothes I rode here in? You think I wished to weep at night because I thought everyone I loved was lost to me? You think I wished I thought I had lost every tie and reminder of my family?"
"Weep?" he asked, zeroing on the word with a frown. "When did you weep?"
"While you slept," Evelinde snapped, feeling embarrassment color her cheeks as she admitted it. She wasn't the only one embarrassed. His men and Mac were all exchanging panicked glances and looking terribly uncomfortable, though Mildrede was looking upset on her behalf rather than embarrassed. Evelinde wasn't surprised when the woman moved to stand behind her in her usual show of support.
"Hmm," Mac muttered suddenly. "Well, guess we should start unloading this wagon. " Grabbing Mildrede by the arm, he dragged her to the wagon. Evelinde heard Mildrede hiss at him to let her alone, but he muttered back that she was best not to get between Evelinde and Cullen, then shoved a cushion at her and grabbed a chair himself before directing her toward the stairs. The rest of the men were snatching up items left and right and hurrying after the pair, fleeing the field of battle, Evelinde realized.
"Well, there was no need for crying," Cullen said with a scowl, as the last of the group disappeared into the keep. "If ye had just trusted me to tend to matters as it is my place to do, ye'd have realized I'd see to yer wellbeing. And," he added with a frown, "ye've no lost all ties to yer family. I am yer family now. "
"Family? You?" she asked with amazement. "Nay, my lord. You are a complete stranger to me. And why should I trust a stranger to do what is best for me when my own stepmother—who was not a stranger—would not?"
"I am no a stranger," Cullen said impatiently. "I'm yer husband. "
"You may be my husband, my lord, but a couple of head flops in front of a priest does not change the fact that you are a stranger," Evelinde said grimly, then pointed out, "I know nothing about you. While I have told you everything I can think of about myself, you have shared nothing in return. I know Scatchy better than I know you, and all I know about him is that he likes pasties. I have no idea what you like or dislike, except perhaps that you do not like me. "
Cullen stilled in surprise, then looked irritated. "What the devil would make ye think I doona like you?"
"Oh, I do not know," she snapped, as a now-empty-handed Mac started back out of the keep followed by the other men. "Perhaps because you have not touched me or more than grunted at me since consummating our marriage. "
The men on the stairs stopped abruptly and turned to head back into the keep without Cullen ever seeing them, Evelinde noted, as her husband's mouth opened and closed twice without issuing a word.
Finally, he glared and snapped, "I was being considerate. "
"Considerat
e?" she asked with disbelief.
"Aye. I didna wish to pain yer bruises. I thought to let them heal more ere bothering you again. "
Evelinde was too upset at this point to appreciate the thoughtfulness of the gesture. If it was true, she thought furiously and bit out, "Well, it would have been nice if you had said as much to me, my lord, rather than leave me thinking I was so poor at the duty you wished not to have to attend it again. "
Cullen's eyes widened in shock, then he grabbed her by the arm and turned to drag her into the keep.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked with irritation, trying to jerk her arm free as he dragged her across the great hall toward the stairs.
"To show ye I like ye," he snarled.
Evelinde immediately dug in her heels, bringing them to a halt by the trestle tables.
"Have you not listened to a word I have said?" she asked incredulously. "I do not wish to be shown, I want to be told, my lord. "
Cullen turned back to face her as the men, who had apparently settled themselves at the table to avoid being unwilling witnesses to the fight while it was outside, quickly scrambled to escape the great hall, rushing back out the doors they'd just come in.
