Page 41 of Bound to a Scot
“Ye two seem tae be gettin’ on well,” Cecilia said.
Emmy gave her a half-shrug. “We’re goin’ tae be family soon enough, so best fer everybody if we all try tae get on.”
“I suppose so,” Cecilia said.
She sat back in her chair and just watched them. They reined in their laughter and spoke about trivial things, but Cecilia did not miss the meaningful glances that passed between them. Emmy’s cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled in a way she’d never seen before. And for his part, Maddox was much the same. Whenhe looked at her stepmother, she saw him look the way she’d imagined the man she would eventually marry would look at her.
And that’s when she understood what was happening. Any lingering animosity between them had dissipated like the morning fog, replaced by something that, to Cecilia, looked a lot like warmth and affection. When her father was gone and they didn’t think anybody was watching, there was a familiarity and a flirtatiousness between them.
The problem, she thought, was that if she noticed it, eventually her father was going to notice it too. And she knew her father well enough to know he wouldn’t take that sort of thing lightly. He would see it as a betrayal. And if he believed she was being, or had been, unfaithful to him, he would punish her. Harshly. She thought he’d also probably kill Maddox for the affair, whether it was real or simply a product of his imagination. Cecilia knew when his anger was aroused, he could act rashly, viciously. And oftentimes, without thinking. If he believed something to be true, there was no talking him out of it. In his mind, an accusation was often damning and all the evidence he needed to exact his vengeance upon whoever he perceived had wronged him.
Knowing all that, watching the subtle but meaningful looks passing between Maddox and Emmy, worried Cecilia. Her father would surely see it sooner or later. She wondered if she should say something to them, or at least to Emmaline. To warn them that she could see what was going on between them and that they had to be more discreet about it. To tell them she could see that something between them was blossoming, and that they had to curtail it.
On the other hand, though, there was a small piece of her that wanted to encourage them to explore whatever it was that was developing between them. Perhaps it was naïve, but she thought if they fell in love, they would find some way to get her father to set Emmy aside so Maddox could be with her, and they wouldn’t have to go through with a marriage neither of the three of them wanted. Cecilia didn’t think it was an option, but it was the one spark of hope she was clinging to.
She sat back and watched them. They were treading dangerous ground, but for the first time, she saw a glimmer of genuine happiness in Emmy’s face and that made her happy. Emmy wasn’t her mother, but she was the closest thing to one she had ever had. She treated Cecilia like she was her own and loved her the way a mother should love her child.
Cecilia only ever wanted Emmy to be happy. But she feared the price she would pay if her father found out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Iwould caution ye against letting yer emotions get involved, me laird,” Laith said, his voice smooth as silk. “Ye dinnae want tae make a rash decision.”
Burchard turned to him, his eyes narrowed and a snarl showing his teeth. “And what is that supposed tae mean?”
The tall, thin man grimaced as if he knew he’d just stepped into a briar patch and had to navigate his way out carefully lest he slice himself to ribbons. That was the way Burchard liked to keep people. On tenterhooks. He liked to keep them from getting too comfortable and always guessing. Back on their heels. He liked them to always remember who had the power and who was in control. It was necessary to remind people of that.
Burchard allowed Laith more freedom than most, but only because he had been his advisor for a very long time and had always provided astute counsel. The man had a keen, if somewhat devious mind and truth be told, he was the closest thing Burchard had to a true friend. Burchard had learned earlyon in life that as laird of the clan, he did not have the luxury of friends. Most people wanted to get close to him to curry favor, others to bask in the glow of his power, and others to plot against him. He had learned to keep everybody at an arm’s distance and that he couldn’t truly trust anybody.
However, Burchard’s patience had its limits, even with an obsequious lickspittle like Laith.
“I mean nay disrespect, me laird,” the man said with a slight bow of his head. “All I mean tae say is this situation is delicate and must be handled with care.”
“He comes intae me castle—me home—and thinks he can carry on with me wife right under me nose like I’m a bleedin’ fool?”
“We dinnae ken fer certain that they’re carryin’ on taegether,” Laith said. “I was merely reportin’ back tae ye the whispers I’ve heard ‘round the keep, me laird.”
“And what about their wee nighttime excursion, eh?”
“Again, ‘tis nae proof of anythin’,” he replied. “I was merely told by one of the guards that both of them came through the southern gate late one night, albeit at separate times.”
His hands clasped behind his back, Burchard paced the salon, his face hot with rage. He ground his teeth so hard, he half-feared turning them into dust, but such was the anger flowing through him, he could not stop. He’d known Emmeline enjoyedtaking walks out to the hot springs beyond the castle and bathing out there beneath the light of the moon for some time. He went out there himself from time to time, usually to entertain one of his mistresses because the water felt nice and it was semi-private.
Burchard had never offered to join her or send a guard to watch over her because there was some small part of him that hoped she’d be attacked by an animal or rogues and would simply never return to the keep. He’d even briefly entertained the notion of sending hired swords himself to see that the job was done. Knowing she had been out there with Maddox though, doing God knew what, made him wonder why he’d stayed his hand.
“I admit it looks suspicious, me laird. But as of yet, we have nay proof of yer wife’s infidelity. It would be rash and perhaps even foolish tae act right now,” Laith said. “The clan wouldnae like it.”
Burchard waved him off and walked to the table and poured himself a cup of ale, quaffing half of it down in one swallow. He did not need proof. He believed the rumors. He felt the truth of them in his heart and that was good enough for him. He stared out the window at the darkness of the land beyond and drained the last of the ale before refilling his cup.
“I cannae nae dae anythin’,” Burchard said. “It’d make me look weak to any potential allies… or worse, tae me enemies.”
“But acting rashly would make ye look impulsive and unstable tae those potential allies,” Laith replied smoothly. “’Tis as much as a liability, if nae more.”
His mood darkening, Burchard’s grip on his cup tightened and with a growl, he spun and hurled it at the far wall. It hit with a hard thud and bounced away, splashing ale all over the floor.
“Who in the bleedin’ hell does this man think he is tae come into me keep and take what is mine?” he shouted.
“Again, me laird, these are but rumors at this point. We dinnae ken?—”
