Skye felt the pain of his words. She had been so fortunate to have her mother with her all her life, but the world was unfair. Many women died bringing their sweet babes into the world, and as a healer, she’d experienced first-hand the devastation that loss left behind.
“Arran, that’s terrible. I am so sorry.”
“But me faither told me about her. He said she had hair as black as night and eyes that were like the rolling waves in the ocean, changing colors with her moods.”
“He loved her, then?” Skye asked.
Aaron looked at her with a tenderness in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. “Very much. Me kin told me when I was older that hewas devastated after her death. He stayed drunk more often than sober.”
“Did he stay that way? Pished and all?”
“Nay, he didnae, thankfully. After he gambled away the land by the kirk, he seemed to see the error of his ways. He eventually came round and was a good faither to me. But many thought a new Laird should have been named back then. And after he was unable to get the lands back, the number of people who opposed him grew even more.” He sighed.
“But enough of sad stories.” He shook his head. “This spot here was a happy place for me maither and faither. He told me once that if she was ever cross with him, he would find her here, and he could always coax a kiss out of her.”
“He must have been quite charming, then.” Skye found herself smiling, despite her fears and worries.
Arran stepped closer once more, and he gently caressed her cheek. “What about me, Skye? Do ye find me charming?”
“I find ye to be a brute.” she replied.
But she didn’t sound convincing even to her own ears.
Arran looked surprised and possibly a bit hurt. “Why do ye find me so appalling, Skye? The marriage plan is sensible. It could work for both of us.”
This man kens nothing.
She sighed, trying to keep her temper. “Do ye nae see, Arran? Ye ripped me away from the home me maither and I lived in safety for two years. We thought we had finally found somewhere he wouldnae come lookin’. And while I’m grateful to ye that me maither is safe and nae back with Blackwell, I dinnae ken if I’ll ever see her again.”
Arran started to speak, but she held up her hand. “I’m nae finished. Then ye brin’ me here, and Blackwell is practically right behind us, threatenin’ to start a feud to get me back, and now ye’re puttin’ a huge amount of pressure on me to marry ye to keep yer people safe, and to get back some piece of land so that ye can keep yer place as laird. What does that say about yer feelings for me? I feel like a piece on a chessboard.”
By the time she finished, her voice rose to a pitch that bordered on hysterical, and she was shaking with anger and hurt.
Arran looked at her sympathetically, but he did not try to touch her. “Och, Skye, if I had the time I’d court ye with all the gifts any maid could wish. But Blackwell isnae leavin’ us any choice. If he marries ye off to the highest bidder, I’ll nae have any chance at all.”
“Would it matter to ye?” Skye choked out.
“Aye, it would matter,” Arran said. “Even though we only just met, it seems to me I’ve been lookin’ for ye for years. I daenae need to spend a year and a day courtin’ ye to know that.”
“But I scarcely know ye at all, Arran Gilroy. For all I know, once ye v yer precious deeds, ye’ll treat me as shamefully as Blackwell treated me maither.”
“Oh, Skye, nay. I’d do nay such thing, nae to any woman; but especially nae to ye. This is why I wanted more time. But yer stepfather has taken that chance from us. Please . . . what can I say that will make ye believe that I will be honorable toward ye no matter what?”
Skye turned her face to the wall, and sobbed. “Ye dinnae understand.”
“Nay, I dinnae,” Arran agreed. “Nay man can understand the travails of a woman. But for yer sake, I would try. Truly, I would. Och, Skye, what can I say to make it better? If I tell ye I love ye, it would be a lie and ye would know it as such. But I respect ye, and honor ye. I would do me best by ye, and mayhap in time, love would come to us both.”
She turned back to look at him. Her face felt wet and sticky with tears, and her nose was running. She looked about herself, but the gown had narrow sleeves, and she did not want to ruin it by using the sleeves to wipe her face.
“Here,” Arran said, producing a large handkerchief from his sporran.
“Thank ye,” Skye said, accepting the large, white square of fabric. She mopped her face with it, then blew her nose in ahearty, unladylike fashion. Then she looked at the handkerchief. “I’m afraid I might have ruined it.”
Arran laughed, took the crumpled cloth from her, and wrapped the unsoiled part around it. “Castle MacArthur has a full complement of washer women who are only employed to wash clothin’,” he said. “Never will any of them serve ye as did those she-brutes at yer stepfaither’s castle.”
Skye blinked up at him. He’d noticed. And he understood the kind of betrayal that had been.
“Skye, ye are so beautiful.”
