Page 41 of A Knight To Call My Own
“What else?” Ian’s words were clipped. All he wanted was confirmation of what he had already assumed. His Uncle had run the estate further into the ground, almost to the point of annihilation.
“There’s not much left,” Angus stated, coming straight to the heart of the matter. “Yer coffers are empty, and the fields are fallow. The livestock is almost gone tae the point o’ being non-existent, and winter will be upon us sooner than we would like. ’Tis why yer mother sent fer ye in the hope ye had some coin tae spare in order tae save us.”
“You have been here all this time and never thought of leaving?”
Angus shrugged his broad shoulders. “Where else am I tae go? ’Tis the only home I have ever known, even though there is not much left tae it. Besides, I have a wee bairn on the way and would not risk movin’ the little woman in her condition.”
Ian slapped the man on the back. He barely shifted. “I had not even thought to ask if you were wed.”
“’Twas hardly time, considering yer desire tae enter the tournament tae win yerself a bonny bride. Then, there were more important matters needing attending, besides chasing after yer abducted wife.”
Ian stood, and yet, Angus remained where he was. “What could be of more import than my lady?”
“Yer own health, fer one thing, or had ye not thought on having the lass have a look at yer wound tae see if the injury festers?”
Ian busied himself with tidying up the mess he had made by gathering the cloths he had thrown upon the floor. “We have not had time for much speech of late,” he grumbled, “nor have I made the effort to see what she does with her day.”
Angus did not hold back a low chortle. “As newly wedded, I would not expect a lot o’ talking tae be going on between ye, at least during the midnight hours. Not that I am one tae council ye on how tae handle yer wife, but ye should make the attempt tae have speech with her. It tends tae make life a little easier, not tae mention keep ye warm at night, if ye take my meaning.”
“Speaking from experience, are you?”
“Aye, that I am.”
“I will consider talking to her soon. However, I do not feel Lady Lynet desires my company.”
“She was making her way towards the dock when I passed her. She dinnae appear too happy, not that I am an expert on reading neither a woman’s mind, nor their moods. Go have speech with her,” Angus urged.
Ian began making his way from the stable with Angus following closely behind. He squinted from the daylight, even though ’twas another typical cloudy day that was not entirely different than his time spent in England. He saw Lynet was indeed sitting on the edge of the dock near the loch, tossing rocks into the calm water. Still feeling put out that she had no desire to fully become his wife, he let his pride and anger get the best of him and refused to make the first move. Angus must have read his thoughts, as he began tsk tsking.
“Ye willna go tae her, then?” he asked tersely.
“Nay,” Ian muttered, “I must needs see the blacksmith and attend other duties.”
“Do ye mind, then, if I have speech wit’ yer lady?”
Ian was not sure what possessed the man to ask this of him and, yet, could not say him nay. “You may as well see to her. After all you have done for us, I put Lynet in your care as her guard to protect her when I am not able to do so myself.”
Angus gave him a slight nod. “I am honored, my laird.”
Ian watched the slightly older man make his way towards his wife, not knowing why, for the life of him, he was not making the effort himself.
~***~
Her mood could only be termed gloomy, at best. She did not fit in here, and any of her attempts to become mistress of the castle were continually thwarted by Fiona’s meddlesome ways. Lynet had all but given up, since ’twas clear she did not have Ian’s support. She surmised, once her dowry was received from Berwyck, she would be all but sent to some obscure dwelling to live out the rest of her life. She might as well have joined the nunnery, as she had threatened to do so many times in the past. At least her life would have been a worthy sacrifice as one of God’s brides, instead of being seen as a useless annoyance and always being told she was under foot.
Lynet had tried to take charge of the hall, the kitchens, and even to see if anything could be salvaged from what remained of the gardens. Time and time again, Lady Fiona had made it clear her assistance was not needed, despite the fact the condition of Ian’s hall was atrociously filthy. She was shocked the dogs would even sleep upon the flea ridden floor, but it explained much of why those that walked across the room scratched at their legs.
She had angered him that night, which almost seemed as if it had happened a lifetime ago. ’Twas an eve that constantly played inside her mind ’til she wanted to run screaming from the keep. Ian had made no attempt to soften her wounded heart that he would take her in front of others, notwithstanding the fact that he did indeed honor her request. The evenings were the worst torture she had ever encountered, for she would have no choice but to listen intently to his steady breathing as sleep overtook him whilst he slumbered upon the floor.
Lynet picked up another stone lying next to her and tossed it into the waters to watch the rippling effect of the wave ’til it dissipated into nothingness. She wiped at a tear, wondering where the sassy lass of Berwyck had gone. Sometimes, she felt like such a child, and knew not in which direction she should now turn. Going back home to Berwyck did not seem like a possible solution to her problems, not that she had the means or energy to travel the length of Scotland to reach it.
“Ye should be careful about throwing stones, lassie. Ye might awaken the monster lying far beneath those murky waters o’ the loch.”
Gathering her skirts, she rose quickly, only to espy Angus standing some distance from her.
“Hello, Angus.” Her words were soft, and she supposed their tone echoed her feelings, since a sad look appeared upon his face. She tossed her head in the direction of the now calm surface that seemed as smooth as glass. “Is there really a creature living within?”
“So the legend goes, if ye believe such things. Why so forlorn, milady?” He came to stand next to her as they both turned to stare back over the water. “It canna be as bad as ye think.”
