Page 23 of The Highlander's Inconvenient Wife
“Ye will find the gardens through the kitchen doors,” he said in his normal tone of voice before turning and leaving her all alone beside the table.
Joan watched him go as she placed her fingers over her lips where his had been. The skin still tingled in a very pleasant manner as she struggled to regain control of her breathing. Jasper Ainsley was more than just an enigma to her; he was a threat to her heart and being.
She realized with shocking clarity that the man held a dangerous allure to her that would haunt her dreams if she didn’t find a way to leave and soon.
12
Joan watched as Martha plunged her trowel into the rich earth and brought it back before casting the soil aside. Her rhythmically repeated actions felt quite hypnotic to Joan as she sat on a patch of grass, silently taking in the wonder that was Martha and everything she did.
“Ye have to have a firm hand when it comes to gardening,” she explained as she gripped a weed by the stem and yanked it up, roots and all, before tossing it aside on the pile of discarded plants. “Nasty things can fester an’ take over if ye dinnae remove every last root,” Martha explained. “In many ways, gardening is like our hearts; things can grow an’ overtake all that is good if we dinnae do regular maintenance.”
Matha placed her trowel beside herself on the grass and continued to make little holes in the soil with her hands. “I like to come out here as often as I can; it does me heart good to have some time to think. We can keep too many things to ourselves, I find.”
Getting the distinct impression that Martha was headed somewhere very specific with the conversation, Joan decided to ask a few questions of her own in an attempt to change the subject. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Martha; she just felt that the fewer people who knew of her situation at present the better her chances were of staying hidden.
Shifting her position on the ground and straightening the skirts of her dress, she redirected the conversation. “Is that why the laird is so strict and distant?” she asked one of the questions that had been plaguing her since their moment in the study. “Is it because he doesn’t readily share his feelings?”
Martha smiled to herself as she hunkered down in the dirt. It seemed as if she had been expecting Joan to ask about Jasper sooner or later. “The laird can be hard to understand,” she said carefully. “He wasnae this way as a child, but life taught him a few hard lessons along the way.” She sat back on her haunches and sighed. “Daenae mind his harsh manners; his bark is worse than his bite.” She seemed to consider her own words for a second. “As long as he can trust ye,” she added with a frown.
Joan swallowed hard. She didn’t envy the person who got on his bad side; he seemed as if he could be a formidable foe if things happened that he didn’t like. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to him that made him so closed off to the rest of the world?”
Martha heaved a heavy sigh as she paused for a second with her trowel in in hand once again. “Hand me that jar of seeds at yer side, please dear,” she asked without looking up. “The one with light green seeds.”
Looking to the side, she reached for the jar in question and handed it to Martha, who seemed to be lost in a world of her own. Her eyes were far away, very possibly reflecting the memories she dwelt on at the back of her mind.
“These are meadowsweet seeds,” Martha said distractedly as she tipped the jar into the palm of her hand before placing the seeds in the ground and covering them up. “The flowers can be used to heal many things.” The woman seemed to find solace in talking about the plants. “Does wonders for joint pain and the ill effects of too much food. The little white flowers have a heavenly scent.”
“I’m sorry if my question was too impertinent,” Joan apologized, feeling bad at having made Martha sad. The last thing she had wanted to do was bring up bad memories for the woman who had treated her with nothing but kindness since she arrived.
“Ye were nae impertinent,” Martha said as a sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “We all have things in our past that we’d like to outrun, but nae matter how fast or far ye run, things have a way of popping again. They rear their ugly heads like weeds after rain.”
Joan swallowed the lump that had begun to form in her throat; there was obviously something terrible that happened to the family in the past that still caused them all a great amount of pain. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it was obvious to her now that it had hardened Jasper’s heart.
“Me late husband wasnae a good man.” Martha finally looked Joan in the eyes. “He would beat me whenever things dinnae go his way.” She looked to the side as tears threatened to spill over her cheeks. “Ye can imagine what kind of scars that left on a young lad that loved his maither.”
“I can,” Joan conceded with a heavy heart. “I didn’t grow up with an abusive parent, but I can imagine that it leaves indelible marks on a person’s soul.”
“That is does.” Martha gave her a sad smile as she nodded.
“How did your late husband pass?” Joan sought for an angle to ask about Jasper and how the abuse had affected him. She didn’t want to seem to forward in her line of questioning, but parts of her needed to know more about the man who was harder to read than a closed book.
“I think that is a question that is better posed to Jasper.” Martha seemed even sadder as she sniffed back a few tears.
“I’m sorry, I won’t ask any more questions.” Joan felt terrible about having started the conversation in the first place when it was causing more pain than good.
“Never be sorry for asking questions,” the woman replied encouragingly. “I may not be able to answer them for ye because it’s nae me story to tell, but questions are always good. It’s how we learn. Now,” she said more cheerfully as she clapped her hands together, “we can continue with the gardening before the sun sets on us. We’ve allowed time to slip past us.”
“Just tell me what to do, and I will help,” she answered, wanting a distraction from the pain she had brought up with her silly line of questioning. “Shall I start by removing those weeds over there?” she pointed to the side of the garden where a patch of tall weeds grew.
Martha followed her hand and looked at the patch of thistles. The purple flowers swayed back and forth on their stems as a gentle breeze blew through the garden. “Oh, no, dear,” Martha said most emphatically with a wave of her hand. “Those are milk thistles; they may look like weeds, but they are very useful in treating ailments as well. The sharp thorns are very prickly, but the healing properties far outweigh their nuisances.”
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid that I’m a bit useless when it comes to gardening.” Joan felt slightly sheepish at her lack of knowledge yet relished in all of the new information she was learning. She liked the simple life in Scotland in contrast to the bustle of London. There were no tiresome balls and unjust standards presented by the ton. She could really see herself settling down in a life like this.
When did I start seeing myself settling down in Scotland?
Her own thoughts startled her as she thought of how nice it would be to live in the Highlands and start a family. She’d only been there for a day, and she had already begun to leave the life she knew before far behind her.
“That’s all right,” Martha laughed. “We were nae all born to the same stations in life. An’ just think how boring it would be if we were? Ye an’ I wouldnae be having these very enlightening conversations at present.” She nodded toward the patch of thistles again. “We can learn so much from nature on how to thrive. The thistles may seem like a nuisance, but they can be a very helpful plant if dealt with in the correct manner.”
