Her highlander for one n.., p.13
Her Highlander for One Night, page 13
‘We willna keep ye from yer duties,’ James said.
‘Thank ye, my lady,’ Coira said. Glynnis had made it through the door when Coira called out to her, ‘Yer basket.’
The need to flee before breaking into pieces was so strong she could not bring words to mind.
‘Worry not, Coira,’ Iain said as he guided her to her horse. ‘Send it to the keep when next you come into the village.’
Glynnis’s hands shook as he handed her up and he must have noticed, for once he was mounted, he took hold of her reins and led her...somewhere. She could not remember leaving the mill or where they went. The next thing she knew she was standing in that cottage in the forest, her refuge, and he was watching her.
Waiting.
For words that would not come.
‘Glynnis,’ he said softly. ‘You lost a babe.’
It was not a question. He knew.
And now her shame would be complete and her failure would be exposed. And Iain would never look at her so kindly when the truth was out.
* * *
How had he never seen it or suspected it before? He lost all his abilities to think clearly if it involved Lady Glynnis MacLachlan. One of the skills he’d strengthened over these last years was to coldly evaluate a situation and assess what must be done. Now? She had returned and he was...unable. Robert’s words echoed in his thoughts and Iain’s confidence in knowing his strengths and weaknesses diminished.
The desolation in her eyes when she watched Alice and when the lass jumped into her arms was as clear as the loch on a summer’s day. But he had heard Coira’s question, and Glynnis’s devastating simple response forced him to recognise the truth.
Glynnis had not come here only because of losing her husband, she’d come here to grieve the loss of her child.
As he watched, she’d begun to lose control, something she would be horrified to do. So, he made up an excuse and got her out before she could. He thought distance would improve her condition, but she stood here in the centre of the cottage, unable to speak or even be aware of herself.
‘Glynnis?’ The bleak expression did not change. He reached inside his sporran and took out his flask. Filled with the chieftain’s best, it could help her get over this shock. ‘Take a drink of this.’
When she did not move, he lifted it to her lips and tilted it until the golden liquid trickled into her mouth. About to reach up to ease her head back, he felt her pull on the flask, taking a mouthful and then another one. After she swallowed again, he lifted it from her lips. Her eyes fluttered and her body wobbled, giving him little warning when she toppled.
Iain caught her and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the pallet by the wall. He did not want her lying down flat so he sat against the wall and drew her back on his lap. She had not spoken a word yet and Iain was not certain if she would say something or if the emotions within her would just explode out like a festering wound that is lanced.
Holding her in his embrace in silence for some time, he listened to her shallow breaths. Soon, it began to rain outside and the sound of it on the thin roof above them beat a slow rhythm, one he hoped helped calm her. After some time passed and although he expected tears, she eased back and moved over to sit beside him on the pallet. When he took hold of her hand, she allowed it.
‘I was carrying when Martainn died. I lost them both,’ she whispered. Another breath inhaled and let out. ‘I did not wish you to ken I cannot have children.’
The weight of the words and that truth were the cause for the desolation and the grief in her gaze. The way she lay against him spoke of her defeat and resignation.
‘Did you think I would think less of you because of that tragedy?’ He shook his head and bumped her shoulder with his, trying to ease the tension between them. ‘You think so little of me that you believe me capable of such cruelty?’
‘Not cruelty,’ she explained. ‘’Tis the way things are done, the way blame is assigned.’
‘Must there be blame, Glynnis? Is the loss not punishment enough?’ He’d watched as his mother lost the bairn she carried just after she married Davidh and understood the suffering of body and soul that followed.
‘Would that every man believed what you believe, Iain.’
‘I am sorry for your terrible losses.’ He lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers. ‘When you left, in spite of...how we ended, I wished nothing but happiness for you. I’d hoped that if you could not marry me, that your marriage would be a good one for you.’
‘It was as I—’ She shook her head and shrugged. ‘’Twas not a bad marriage.’
She lapsed into silence and whether due to her reluctance to speak about marrying another man and leaving him behind or due to grief, he did not push her for more.
‘What will you do now?’ he asked. ‘Are you ready to...?’ He really had no idea what would happen next to her. All Lady Elizabeth had said was she was here to recuperate. ‘Return home?’ She’d lived most of her life away from her father’s house—did she consider that place home now?
‘I wait on my father’s call,’ she said. Releasing his hand, she climbed to her feet and smoothed her hands down her gown. ‘I thought I was ready. I thought I could...’ She shrugged and looked at him. ‘I could move on.’
‘Is there no other choice for you?’
If, when, she returned to her father’s control, as a widow with no ties to her husband’s family, he would once more plan an advantageous match for her. Though a woman who could not bear a man heirs was looked upon differently from a young and presumed fertile one. Widowers with their own children who needed tending. Second or third sons with no hope of inheriting.
‘We both understand the rules under which we live, Iain. And now that you ken the truth of my...’ She paused and walked to the doorway, apparently just noticing it was open. ‘I have no other choices.’
Then, she altered before his eyes—from defeated to resolved—as he watched her pull her shattered control back into place. Anger built inside him—at her father, her dead husband, at everyone, at himself—that she needs must do that to protect herself. She would never be angry on her own behalf, but it coursed through his blood now. It must have shown for her gaze narrowed.
‘I do feel better, Iain. Truly, I am stronger. With each day, I regain myself.’
‘Glynnis, I wish—’
‘No, Iain, please do not.’ She faced him and he was surprised that the smile on her face was genuine. ‘I will wish you well when I go.’
Iain walked to her side and took her hand. She’d stopped him from saying something they could not walk away from. But she would not stop him from saying what he wanted.
‘I want you will take the time left to you here and enjoy what you can, Glynnis. Lady Elizabeth was right to offer you a place here.’
‘Was she?’
‘Aye. I am glad she could help you in your time of need.’ He took a step closer and leaned down to touch his mouth to hers. At the last moment, he did not. She did not need the added burden of his attraction to her. ‘Come, if you are well, we should return.’
The ride back was accomplished in silence. Iain suspected that Glynnis might not wish to talk when she so clearly needed to regain herself.
As the unchallenged quiet ride revealed, he’d been correct and she’d made no attempts to speak to him until she bade him farewell at the stables and walked off. He was too angry, too filled with a growing rage, to simply attend to the tasks awaiting him.
Iain walked to the training yard and called out challenges to some of the men he noticed there. He needed the fight to burn this fury from his soul.
And fight he did.
Chapter Twelve
Mud dripped into his eyes and mixed with the blood trickling down from the gash on his head and still he fought on. Struggling to his feet, he asked no quarter and gave none in return. Iain did not fear dying—that was not at stake here and now as it would be in a true battle. Kneeling in the muddy puddle, he pulled in deep gasps to fill his chest.
Nay, this was a fight he simply needed to fight. He needed to clear the ire from his veins and to push the overwhelming need to do something truly stupid back down into his control. Before he did something foolish and unforgivable.
He took on all comers, anyone in the yard or who came at hearing the cheering and calls. Anyone. He’d lost count after the first seven. Some of them were easy defeats. Some of them were not quite as predictable. But the one who could put him down and end this madness and rage stood before him now.
Davidh looked on him with knowing eyes as he waited for Iain to climb to his feet. Iain could not meet his stepfather’s gaze long, so he stood and shook the mud from his quarterstaff and his hands. He pushed his hair back out of his face and spat out the mouthful he’d sucked in when he hit the dirt.
No matter that his ribs burned from Dearg’s well-placed hit and that Simon’s slashing blow cut his arm and the blood soaked his shirt before he pulled it off. They’d never bested him before and probably never would.
But Davidh was another matter.
From the smug look on the man’s face as Iain readied for his attack, this would not end well. Even knowing that, he could not stop himself from accepting the fight.
The fury had expanded inside him until he could feel it pushing its way out and through. With each yard they covered, he wanted to let it out. But he was with the only one not responsible for the situation. Not truly. Not her fault either. And she was the one who could do the least to change it.
Davidh had waited until Iain was lost in his thoughts and charged across the few paces separating them. Damn the man, but he knew Iain’s vulnerabilities in fighting. He took two vicious hits on his back and shoulder as he turned to get better positioned and more balanced. Too late to do him any good, because his stepfather turned into the relentless warrior he was known to be. The half-score and three years between them did not give Iain any advantage. Add his inexperience into the situation and he was damned.
‘Have you forgotten how to defend yourself, Iain?’ Davidh taunted as he slammed the wooden weapon several times quickly against Iain’s and sent shards of pain up his arms into his shoulders. Mayhap earlier, he would have stood a chance, but now? Not now. ’Twas his own fault for carrying on with this.
Not ready to give up, he crouched and swept his staff out, aiming for Davidh’s feet, trying to unbalance him. The blood in his eyes caused him to misjudge the distance between the two of them and Iain was the one to fall. He landed hard on his back, his breath whooshing out of his chest and the edges of his vision constricting. He heard his head hit and felt the blinding pain, then the rest of his world went black.
* * *
Glynnis heard the cheering and calling out as soon as it began. Walking from the stables and planning to seek out Lady Elizabeth, she was instead drawn to the spectacle in the training yard. After his infinite kindness to her, something had happened. She saw the fierceness filling Iain’s gaze in their last moments together in the cottage and could feel the heat of anger pouring from him in waves. Their ride back was a stilted silence and several times she thought him ready to say something, only to find him looking away.
Yet, by his manners, he was not angry with her. She could not identify the target or reasons for it. So, they left the cottage after she’d gathered herself back together and reminded herself that there was no way to escape encounters with children for the rest of her life.
As they rode back to Achnacarry, the truth that there was a real and looming possibility that she would marry a man who had children that needed a woman’s, a wife’s, care struck her. She would not have the choice to turn away if it upset her as she’d done at Coira’s. So, she’d decided she must work to bear up when faced with the wee ones. She could not let those emotions defeat her and hold her future prisoner.
Walking back to the fence around the large empty area where the men trained with weapons, she found an opening and edged into it to watch whatever, whoever, was catching the attention of everyone.
Iain.
Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him.
He was naked from the waist up, and as had happened at the mill, she could not tear her gaze away. Splattered in the mud of the yard, he bled from several places and yet it was not his appearance that distressed her. Indeed, none of the other women she now noticed watching seemed bothered by it at all. The mud-encrusted breeches he wore moulded to his powerfully muscled thighs and she could see every movement as he fought one opponent and another and another.
She was so intent on him she could not remember how many he’d fought. When he landed in the mud, bleeding and struggling to breathe, she clutched the wooden fence to keep from falling over. But a hushed silence fell over all those watching as one man strode towards Iain as he yet knelt in the muck. The Cameron’s commander, one of the most experienced warriors in the entire clan, held the same long wooden weapon in his grip that Iain did as he made his way closer.
As Davidh stood at the ready, Iain pushed to his feet and shifted back and forth, as he pushed his hair away from his face. Glynnis fought not to let the scream building in her out. Glancing around, she saw that she was not the only one caught up in the tension and anticipation. This would bring an end to whatever they were witnessing. Iain had fought as though a berserker of legend, a mindless warrior fighting until there was no possibility of fighting any longer. The anger she’d seen in his gaze had transformed into fury and that had fuelled these battles.
Davidh said something that made Iain pause. Had he called a halt to the fighting? The crowd surged closer to the fence as if they knew what was coming. Did they?
They did.
The commander attacked without warning and she winced as he struck quickly, knocking Iain down and using his movements and weight against him. Fighting the urge to call out to Iain and warn him, Glynnis closed her eyes as the crowd began screaming around her. She only caught the final moment as Iain fell with his head hitting the ground hard as he landed. When he did not move, she did, pushing around those nearest her and through the gate nearby.
If anyone thought it strange that she was the first one to reach his side, they did not say it or stop her. She knelt down and leaned in, calling his name as she eased his head up on her lap.
‘Iain? Are you well?’ Not waiting for a reply, she smoothed his hair out of his eyes and wiped the blood and mud away. ‘Iain,’ she whispered close to his ear. ‘You must wake now.’
She slid her fingers through his hair, feeling along his head for the source of the blood. Instead, she felt a lump growing in size on the back.
‘My lady, is he awake?’ Davidh tossed his weapon aside to a waiting man as he crouched next to them. Before she could answer, he called out to someone nearby, ‘Seek out my wife and bring her here.’ He looked at someone else. ‘The bucket.’
‘He still sleeps, Sir Davidh,’ she said. Placing her fingers near the bump, she nodded. ‘This is swelling quickly.’
‘His mother will not be happy if I have harmed him.’
‘Did you do it a-purpose?’
He started at her question. ‘I did not want to knock him out.’ The commander began to say something else and stopped.
‘Go on.’
‘I wanted to knock some sense into him.’ Davidh sighed and touched Iain’s cheek. ‘It is his weakness, you ken? He thinks too much at times and at others he does not use the wits he was born with.’
‘I thought I was your weakness,’ she whispered so only Iain would hear her words. It was one of the things that Robert had repeated in their awkward conversation about her and Iain. The chieftain had been trying to be candid, not hurtful. Davidh gained her attention when he cleared his throat. Looking up at the man who’d taken over Iain’s training and care, she recognised another knowing gaze.
‘I will not be,’ she said. Clearing her own tightening throat, she repeated the words to Davidh as though she needed someone to hear her promise. ‘I will not be his weakness.’
The bucket was placed at her side, and after easing out from under him, she used the rag in it to clean most of his face. Davidh called out a few more orders that sent those yet lingering about and watching to go. Barely had most moved away when two things happened at the same time.
Iain roused and opened his eyes just as his mother arrived.
‘I am well,’ he insisted as he tried to sit up. Anna pushed him back down, and though he could have done as he wished, he acquiesced.
Glynnis watched Anna work, healer first, as she assessed the man before the mother questioned her son...and her husband. The easy back and forth of their conversation and the banter in it spoke of a closeness that made Glynnis jealous. Another new emotion she’d not felt for a long time filled her. Though Anna did not dote on her son, her concern was out before everyone. And it made her own heart ache for such a family as they had.
While Anna poked and prodded along his face and head, Iain stared at Glynnis.
‘I must be far worse than I thought, for I do not remember fighting you.’
Though his words were spoken as a tease, all she did was burst into tears. Not sad tears. Ones of relief that he was well enough to be able to jest about his condition. Relief that he was awake after such a head injury. Relief. She climbed to her feet with Davidh’s help and Iain stood, too.
‘I am just glad you aren’t badly injured,’ she said. ‘That is all.’
‘He needs to wash so I can stitch the tear on his scalp that is bleeding,’ Anna said. The healer gathered up the bloodied rags she’d used and tossed them in the bucket. Picking it up, she nodded at Glynnis. ‘You should get Maggie to see to that before the stains set.’
Glynnis glanced down to find the front of her gown was now a messy mix of blood and mud. Instead of the horror she would have felt in earlier days, she was simply glad she’d been there to render him aid until Anna arrived. Taking her leave of the three, she heard Anna order Iain to get washed and see her in the keep for some stitching. One last glance over her shoulder as she left the fenced enclosure revealed Anna and her husband both watching her leave.
