Page 87 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
She could barely process the scene in front of her. All those nights that Magnus had left the castle… Was this where he went? When she was waiting alone in her bedchambers, was he here? With them?
With trembling hands, she wiped away a few more tears. Part of her wanted to confront Magnus anyway, to bolt out of the carriage, march up to him, and demand an explanation. But she couldn’t get the image of their hands on him out of her mind.
They touched her husband like they had a right to, like they had hundreds of times before and he didn’t do anything to stop them. How many times since they’d been married had these women touched him? She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making a scene. He’d turned her into the scorned wife, but she didn’t need to announce that to the world.
She could feel Ewan watching her, but she couldn’t look at him, didn’t want to see the pity she would likely find there. They sat in the back of the carriage until Magnus walked away and his group of admirers returned inside.
When she was confident that her voice wouldn’t break, she turned to the man-at-arms. His eyes only held concern and that pity she was desperate to escape. Something in her snapped when she saw it, the last shreds of her heart breaking apart.
“Can ye take me away, please?” she croaked, her tears falling steadily now.
“Where?” he asked softly.
“Somewhere, anywhere… some place that isnae here.”
32
“See ye soon, Helen,” Magnus called over his shoulder to the older woman.
Helen harumphed but didn’t disagree. Every time he came here, she always told him to forget about her and live his life, especially now that he had a “bonnie wife to warm his bed.” Her words, not his. But he would never forget the woman who helped raise him alongside his mother.
In fact, he’d grown up around most of the women at the brothel, and he could always count on them to tell it to him straight. And on a night like this, when his doubts about Ciara threatened to overtake him, he had needed some advice.
Ewan’s words about her fear had been ringing in his head all night, and Magnus wanted another perspective.
Advice wasn’t exactly what he got. Everyone told him he was being a dobber, leaving his wife at home, especially after what they had shared in the village. But when he’d stopped before her bedchambers earlier tonight, he couldn’t make himself open the door.
What if he hurt her? What if she didn’t really want him? What if his man-at-arms was right?
He tried to remember all those times she indicated that she wanted this, but that small voice in the back of his head kept asking what if. The ladies at the brothel would tell him the truth from a woman’s perspective, and then he would know.
In no uncertain terms, they all told him he was overthinking it. He would know it if she was truly scared of him. It was just so hard to believe that a lass like Ciara would want him, truly. But he would do his best not to take her affection for granted. He was coming around to the idea that he just needed to be honest with her.
After he said farewell to the ladies, he raced back to the castle. He hoped that his wife was still awake. He would tell her everything, all his fears and where they came from, and let her decide what she wanted. Then, if he was so lucky, he would apologize properly, with his hands and mouth and tongue.
The castle was dark when he arrived on horseback, but candles were still lit in his wife’s bedchambers. His heart rate kicked up at the sight. He quickly led the horse to the stables and then ran back towards the castle and up the stairs.
He pushed Ciara’s door open, not even bothering to knock, and burst right in.
He quickly scanned the room, only to find it empty. Her bed was still made up, and the only sign of life were the flickering candles.
With a curse, he snuffed out each candle and ran out of the room.
Horrible scenarios raced through his mind. Ciara kidnapped from her bedchambers by their enemies, Ciara running away and out in the cold night alone, Ciara hurt in every way his mind could conjure up.
He flew down the stairs and raced to her maid’s rooms, banging loudly on the door.
Susanna answered the door, looking disgruntled. “Aye, what?” she grumbled.
“Have ye seen me wife?” he asked frantically.
The older woman snapped to attention at that. With a worried expression, she said, “Nay, nae since after dinner. She was in her chambers, ready for the night.”
“Shite,” Magnus muttered. “She’s nae there now.”
Susanna let out a colorful curse. “Ye go ask yer family, and I’ll check the library,” she suggested.
With a nod, Magnus ran back upstairs to, once again banging on doors.
