“Because you don’t know me? Because you didn’t know enough to understand me or my life? Because you handfasted with a maggoty piece of shite who probably makes you wonder if all men have secrets and are untrustworthy? You haven’t failed, Abigail. You’ve been human.”
Tears leaked from Abigail’s eyes as she shook her head. “You don’t understand. If you were the only person I’d prejudged, then mayhap I could forgive myself. But you’re not. It’s what I do. I took one look at my sister-by-marriage, Maude, and decided on the spot that she wasn’t good enough. She wasn’t thin and beautiful like my sister, like I believed I was. I thought my family was too good for an ordinary, plump woman to be a part of. I was horrid to her. Horrid. So horrible that had she not intervened on my behalf—more than once, mind you—my brother would have sent me to a convent, or sent me here years before I came. Anywhere to have me away from Maude. I was so vain, so self-centered, so petty and frivolous, just so wretched. But I thought God gave me a chance to redeem myself when Lathan showed an interest.”
Abigail struggled to swallow the lump in her throat and to keep the tears to just a steady stream rather than sobs. She wiped her cheeks on the plaid covering her shoulders as she looked down to where Ronan still held her hands. It surprised her that he still held them after what she admitted. She doubted he’d still be holding them when she finished.
“Lathan was handsome, charming, and attentive to me when he came to Stornoway to arrange to meet me. I was certain that I was ready to become a clan’s lady, despite never having taken an actual interest in learning to be a chatelaine. I thought Maude’s hurried lessons and some extra responsibilities while she was injured would be enough. I didn’t wait to get to know Lathan better and accepted his offer because I based my decision and my judgment on appearances.”
Abigail glanced up at Ronan, expecting judgment and disdain in his gaze. But she found none. Instead, he waited patiently for her to continue.
“What did it get me?” Abigail laughed harshly. “A mon who lied from the first words out of his mouth. A year of wishing I could be anywhere but with the Chisholms. I failed as a chatelaine. I swanned around in the beginning as though my only duty was to watch other people work. I thought Lathan wanted a life with me, wanted a family, but we both know that wasn’t the case. In the end, he frightened me so much after he learned I tried several times to write to Kieran, that I remained in my chamber except for meals. He stopped visiting me and made no effort to hide his leman. She dined to his right while I dined to his left.”
“He brought his mistress into your home and made you break bread with her?” Ronan didn’t realize how hard he was squeezing Abigail’s hands until she flexed her fingers. He glanced down as he relaxed his hold. “I’m sorry. I just can’t believe he would treat you in such a way. Do you think he would have made good on his threats, or was he satisfied with just intimidating you?”
“I think the latter. I don’t think he dared lay a finger on me to abuse me. He feared word would reach Kieran, even if I wasn’t the one to send the missive. He knew Kieran would tear him apart if he hurt me. For all my faults, my brother still loves me.”
“Abby,” Ronan paused as he tried to work through what he wanted to say. Abigail was so intent upon what Ronan would say that she didn’t notice the diminutive. “You may be a little quick to judge, but I think you understand now when you make that mistake. Did you realize when you were being judgmental in the past?”
“Not really. Not until after things went poorly with Lathan. That’s when I started thinking aboot those who were good to me and how he wasn’t. I thought aboot how forgiving Maude always was and how wonderful she is, but I judged her as unworthy. I thought Lathan was better than he was. I was certain I would have a perfect life with him because he was charming and handsome. Turns out he was a toad. I thought aboot how my mother and sister behaved, their pettiness and spitefulness, and I realized I was far more like them than Maude. That’s when I realized that my rush to judge people seemed to never be right. I thought I’d convinced myself to leave judgment to God and St. Peter. But that fell apart when I met you. I reverted to the auld me, and I’m ashamed of it.”
“You met a quiet mon who appears shy,” Ronan began. “Then you learned I’m a laird. You wondered how a shy and reserved mon could lead an entire clan. You doubted me, but you aren’t the first, and I’m certain you aren’t the last, to do that. Abigail, I am quiet, and I tend to be cautious aboot what I say and do because of the weight of responsibility. But you’ve only seen me at court. You haven’t seen me at home, among my people. I know no one here. I’m only visiting. And I represent my entire clan. I’m not a mon to boast and draw attention to myself when I’m somewhere new and don’t know the people around me. I’m not scared, I’m cautious. My clan depends upon me for everything. Our livelihood and our security. While being reserved makes many men underestimate me, it gives me the chance to learn a great deal aboot others.”
“That’s wise, Ronan. I didn’t think aboot it like that. No one has ever had to rely upon me for aught. I was too unreliable and immature for anyone to trust me enough.”
“During that same conversation with my father, he warned me that the expectations placed upon me would always be daunting and heavy. He made me realize that I am not only the face of the MacKinnon clan, I am the first and last defense my people have. Ever since then, I have been cautious aboot what I say and do in case it reflects poorly on my people. That’s why I’m so reserved. I fear saying the wrong things and jeopardizing my clan’s reputation, our alliances, our trade agreements, our position with the king. I keenly feel the weight of my duty, and I take it seriously. I don’t want to fail.” Ronan swallowed as he admitted his greatest fear. He would rather ride into battle naked with no weapons but his fingernails than do something that could harm his clan.
“You fear failing,” Abigail whispered. “Your father was wise to explain so much aboot life to you. I wish my mother had done so. But I wish you’d walked away from that time with your father without doubting yourself. I think the fact that you are so dedicated to your people shows you are the furthest thing from a failure. Is worrying you’ll say the wrong thing why you will suddenly go quiet?”
“Aye.”
“Och, Ronan.” Abigail cupped his face. “Do you fear that your mouth gets too far ahead of your mind and suddenly you panic and need to stop speaking? It sounds like you fear enjoying talking to people.”
“Aye. But it’s not like that everywhere or with everyone. Only those who either hold sway over my clan or those who I want to respect me.” Ronan’s open expression pulled at Abigail’s heart. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth.
“Am I one of those people? You get quiet around me,” she whispered.
“Very much,” Ronan admitted. Abigail shifted close enough to lean her forehead against his.
“Do you realize that you’ve said a great deal to me since we entered this chamber, and you haven’t run out of words yet? Your mouth hasn’t run faster than your mind. I think everything you’ve said has been thoughtful, and I respect you even more.” Abigail sat up straight. “And that makes me feel even worse. I was so quick to judge. Ronan, I’m sorry. I still think you deserve a wife who—”
“Abby, I want you,” Ronan interrupted. “Do you still have the same impression of me as you did before this conversation?”
“Nay. Not at all,” Abigail shook her head.
“Do you feel like you know me better now?”
“Very much.”
“Do you like who you now know me to be?”
“Very much,” Abigail whispered. It was Ronan’s turn to cup her face. He brought his mouth to within inches of hers and stopped. Their eyes met before both sets slipped shut. The kiss was tender and slow. They explored the recesses of each other’s mouths, discovering what they liked until desire overtook the kiss. Abigail leaned back at the same time as Ronan lowered his body over hers. He pushed his sporran out of the way, and Abigail moaned as she felt his weight and his hardened length press against her. “I want you, too. And not just like this.”
Ronan’s hand ran along her ribs, up and down, until he slid his hand to cover her breast. He waited for Abigail to push him away, to laugh at his uncertainty, but she arched her back, moaning once again. Her arms pulled him down to rest more of his weight against her, but he was hesitant, worrying he would hurt her.
“Abby, this can’t be comfortable for you. This bench is too narrow, and it must be too hard with me squashing you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then put me on the table,” Abigail suggested. She watched the surprise, then the lust, flare in Ronan’s eyes as he scooped her up and laid her on the table. She locked her ankles behind Ronan’s thighs and slid her hands beneath the neckline of his leine. His hand kneaded her breast once again as the other gripped her hip.
“I don’t know what to do,” Ronan admitted.
