Page 148 of Highlanders for the Holidays
“And?”
Och, he was a persistent man. She took another steadying breath before going on. “She said I stole ye from her,” she said before quickly adding, “I tried to tell her ’twas nae true!”A man like ye would ne’er be wantin’ a thing like me.
Another frustrated sigh passed over his lips. “I have never been interested in Margaret. ’Tis in her mind and her mum’s that I should marry her, but nothin’ could be further from me mind.” He looked at her for a long time before pushing himself to his feet. “I be sorry they did that to ye, lass. Verra sorry.”
He was apologizing to her for something he had not done. She looked at him in wonder and awe.
“Then she took yer clothes?”
Too stunned to speak, she could only offer a nod.
His anger returned, but now she knew ’twas not directed at her. “I will be puttin’ an end to this once and fer all, lass. Ye stay here. I’ll see to it that ye have a dress to wear. Put on yer chemise before ye catch yer death.” He set about lighting a fire in the brazier.
Though she did not want to admit it aloud, she had to. “I do nae have a chemise.”
He looked up from the brazier. “She took that as well?”
Onnleigh shook her head. “Nae, I mean, I do nae have a chemise. I use me tunic as such. She took it along with me skirt and dress. I have naught else.” Humiliation burned her cheeks a deep red.
’Twas not pity she saw staring back at her, but something else she could not identify.
“I’ll make sure ye have all ye need, lass,” he told her warmly.
Moments later, a nice fire was burning in the brazier. He went to her bed, withdrew the fine wool blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’ll return as soon as I can. Stay here and wait fer me.”
There was nothing else she could say, but a thousand things she wished she could put to voice.
Giving her a pat on her shoulder and a look filled with promises, he smiled before quitting the room.
* * *
“Tellme why Margaret would accuse Onnleigh of takin’ Ronald from ye?” Connor asked, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he stared down at Bridgett. “And tell me the truth.”
Bridgett looked as fearful as she did contrite. She stammered, tripping over her own tongue before she could finally answer clearly. “I saw them talkin’ below stairs. It made me angry. She’s so pretty, ye ken.”
Aye, I ken.
“I did nae think Margaret would do such a cruel thing,” she said, hoping that excuse would gain her some leniency.
“Ye’ve known Margaret all yer life. What made ye think she’d be kind about it—or anythin’ else?”
She cast her eyes to her booted feet.
“Onnleigh has nae stolen Ronald from ye. But as far as I see it, Ronald be nae yers, fer ye haven’t told him how ye feel. If ye wish to make him yers, ye must tell him. Quit hidin’ behind yer shyness and declare yer love for him. Elst I’ll be forced to find him a wife and ye’ll nae be it.”
Fear filled eyes shot upward. She dared not voice any objections, for she knew he’d make good on his promise.
“Take Nola to Onnleigh and apologize to her. Then ye go and find a pretty dress for her, as well as a chemise, anythin’ else she might need.”
“I be so sorry, Connor,” she told him.
“Do nae tell me. Tell Onnleigh,” he said before leaving her alone in the hallway.
* * *
It had not taken longfor word about Onnleigh and Margaret’s argument to spread throughout the clan. By the time Connor made his way to the study, Helen was waiting for him. Braigh and Ronald followed behind him, more likely than not to keep their brother from strangling Margaret or Helen or both.
With protective arms wrapped around her none-too-innocent daughter, Helen instantly began to tell him what she thought.
