“I will accept the familiarity of Eilidh,” she finally said, regal, ladylike. “But I simply cannot be Jamie. That is my brother’s name. It does not feel like myself, and every time I hear it, I imagine him—”
She broke off, abruptly turning back to the ocean. Her bottom lip trembled.
Ah, my love.
She took in a slow breath before looking at him once again. “His death was not . . . pleasant. It is one of a thousand scenes I would prefer not to remember.”
Kieran nodded. “I know.”
“You do? You know how Jamie died?”
“Aye. Ye told me.” He leaned toward her, willing her to believe. “You’re mywife. . . Eilidh. I know ye.”
“I cannot countenance that we are married. More to the point, if I have no recollection of the handfasting, how could it possibly be legally binding? It is an irregular marriage, not recorded in any place but our memories. And as I have none . . .”
The pit in Kieran’s stomach spun and churned.
He said nothing.
“So thoughyoumay consider us married, I would ask that you cease to refer to me as your wife. I do not recognize our union. And without my consent . . .” She spread her hands wide. “Without my consent, it is as if it never happened.”
Kieran let out a long gust of air. He clenched the ring tighter in his fist, the edges biting into his palm.
Her words were not unexpected.
But that didn’t remove the agony of them.
What was worse?
That the Jamie he knew and loved had died?
Or that her form lived on with another version of her inside?
“However, along with that,” she continued, “I said some unkind things to you earlier today. They were most unladylike, and for that, I apologize. I hope I will have your forgiveness.”
Kieran froze.
And just when he thought this woman could no longer surprise him—
Jamiewould not have apologized. His wife was many remarkable things—fearless, reckless, fiercely courageous—but humble?
Not so much.
Had she ever apologized so readily?
Kieran rather thought not.
“Apology accepted,” he murmured. “And I apologize for any of my own heated remarks that might have inflicted harm.”
She nodded her head.
And that was . . . that.
“I requested a chaperone,” she said. “Lady Kildrum said that someone suitable would be sent down. As I consider myself an unmarried woman, it is only proper. I will maintain my reputation as much as possible. Simon deserves as much.”
Ah.
Kieran pinched his lips shut, stemming the words that bit and stung his mouth.
