Page 35 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
Oliva shook her head, surprised at how vicious the two elderly women could be. “Then, where did all to bruises come from?”
Her mother glanced toward the fire, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I’m nay a spring chicken anymore, love. Running in the dark o’ the forest did a number on me. I nearly broke me arm stumbling onto the convent.”
“But,”
“But nothing broke,” Olivia’s mother reassured. “Just a wee bit banged up, is all. The nuns had some wonderful salve to help wit the healing process.”
“Aye, I’d say so,” Elspeth marveled. “Those bruises looked to be weeks old!”
A gentle knock tapped against the wooden archway, with Arthur standing underneath. He offered the warmest smile he could muster, though Olivia took note of her mother’s wary stare. “How are we over here?”
“Och, Arthur! Yer timing is perfect.” Elspeth gestured toward him, and the laird seemed willing to oblige. He took Olivia’s original seat, earning a slight glare from her mother as Olivia continued to pat her hand reassuringly.
“Thank ye fer protectin’ me daughter, Laird MacDonnell.” Olivia’s mother spoke in a perfectly practiced tone; neutral, with just enough edge to tell the recipient she wasn’t to be trifled with.
Elspeth waved her hand through the building tension in the air, doing her best to keep her tone jovial and her expression cheery. “Och, nay none o’that chill, hen! Me son would hardly let anything happen to his newly betrothed."
The room fell deathly silent, Arthur visibly grimacing as Olivia fought to hold back a groan.
“Mam,” Arthur began calmly through gritted teeth. “That’s nay how ye bring up such monumental news, ‘specially to one who’s been worried sick over her child fer so long.”
Elspeth looked ready to retort back, but caught the look on Olivia’s mother’s face. Her expression softened, her jovial tone dampening slightly. “A-Aye…apologies, hen. I–I suppose I’ve just been so excited to tell ye. The way my son looks at yer daughter, well…” warmth returned to her smile as she looked lovingly Arthur’s way. “I suppose…I just couldnae wait fer ye to experience it fer yerself.”
Olivia’s mother simply stared at her daughter, mouth slightly agape and brow knitted. Again; again, she would have to lie to protect the laird’s little charade. Swallowing her dignity, Olivia forced her own smile while giving her mother’s hand another squeeze. “I ken it sounds bizarre, Maither,”
“Yer faither, Olivia,” her mother managed to croak out. “Yer own brother–their killer is to one ye’ve taken a fancy to?”
Olivia could feel her spirit breaking apart. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen; she was supposed to tell her mother the truth in private, fill her in on the scheme before too many emotions were tied up into. But now, it was too late. She would be lucky if her mother ever spoke to her again, after this.
“I didnae want anything to do with him at first, Maither,” Olivia explained, desperate to inject as much truth into her explanation as possible. “When I first crossed paths wit him, I’d just been pulled outta a frigid tarn. I was cold, and defenseless, and…” her eyes flickered to Arthur, looking surprisingly entranced by her words. She didn’t want to hurt him, either; she didn’t want to hurt either of them, but that just wasn’t possible. “But this lastweek…I daenae ken how to explain it. He’s shown so much on how he sees the world, and…and I was moved by it, Maither.”
Olivia inhaled, letting the breath burn in her chest before it rushed out into her continued, impromptu speech. “He’s nae simply a murderer, or a bloodthirsty warrior. There’s–there’s more to him, to the life I thought I knew. He’s showing me how to defend myself,” she added, a nervous flitter of laughter escaping from her chest. “I–I’ve pinned him twice, Maither! I never felt so strong, so–so confident in meself.” She turned her head towards Arthur, and she was certain she’d never seen him look so…humbled.
“But, Olivia,” her mother weakly protested.
“I was destroyed when Faither died,” Olivia said firmly. “But…but I cannae keep wallowing in his death, Maither. If anything has been proven, it is that ye cannae protect me forever. I daenae want to simply cling to me old title as a laird’s daughter; I wish to be a woman who is unafraid o’ the world. To live up to the pet name ye’ve given me. I…” she swallowed her nerves, belting out from her chest, “I want to be yerlaochain.”
The room grew terribly quiet, the tension so thick, even a properly sharpened blade couldn’t cut through it. Olivia simply stared at her mother, desperate for her to say something–anything, even if it was to scold her, or chastise her, or…or something. Anything but the silence. But no; her mother spoke no further, her gaze fixated on the fire as the lights danced behind her unmoving eyes.
“I…” Elspeth suddenly stood from her chair, giving Arthur’s hand a gentle squeeze before crossing the room to Olivia’s mother. “I think, perhaps, Lady MacCulloh is tired after her long journey. Why daenae I show yer room, hen?” She offered a hand, though Olivia’s mother stood on her own, offering only a curt nod of thanks. Arthur gestured to a passing servant, giving hushed instruction as both mothers left the alcove. His gaze turned to Olivia, but she couldn’t stand to look at him.
“I wish to be alone, fer a bit,” Olivia managed to croak out.
She might as well have stabbed Arthur with a knife. Even so, his gave her a gentle nod in return, slipping out of the alcove himself. Soon, only the crackling flames of the hearth filled the silence, Olivia trying desperately to steel her nerves before she fell apart completely. She thought her world fell apart the night her clan chased her away, but this…this had to be the true apocalypse. There was no way to tell if her mother would ever forgive her–ever speak to her again.
And worst of all…everything she said about Arthur hadn’t entirely been part of the ruse, leaving her more confused and uncertain than ever before.
19
Arthur was grateful for an excuse to get out of the keep, and even more so that Nathan was traveling with him. Dusk chased after the heels of their horses, and by the time they arrived at a remote village along the coastline, evening had filled the sky in its glittering gloam. The occasionally passerby greeted the laird with a nod or polite, ‘good evening’, to which Arthur did his best to reply, as to not appear completely distracted or incapable of such simple gestures.
I’ve never felt so strong, so confident…
Olivia had said that. She had genuinely meant it, too; it had killed Arthur to see her lie so fervently to her mother, lie for the sake of his own selfish ruse. And yet, as she spoke about him, about her experiences with him and at his keep…even now, it warmed Arthur in an unexpected way. He glanced over his shoulder to speak directly to his man-at-arms, trying to find the right words without completely giving himself away. “Nathan, did ye ever ask Flora to do something she didnae agree with?”
Nathan considered the question for a moment. “Aye, I suppose I have.”
“How did ye handle it between yerselves?”
