‘My husband’s duties took him away and he permitted my study because we had not the blessings of children.’
Lady Arabella smiled and nodded. ‘Children are a woman’s focus of life, Saraid. ’Tis sad you did not have any with your husband.’
She nodded then, unable to gather words. This meal, like the three before she’d been summoned to with the lady and various people, was an exercise in self-control and thinking quickly. Lady Mackintosh managed to bring up a dizzying mix of topics, but they all came back to her. Her upbringing. Her decision to enter the convent. Her relatives. Her marriage.
That was the worst for her. Asking about a husband who never existed. Sorcha found herself speaking of a husband who could not exist—one with infinite patience, an openness to learning, one who allowed her the freedom she wanted and needed.
Yet, when the lady’s questions grew too many, it was Alan who would interrupt to stop them. Never openly. Never forceful. He seemed to ken how to draw his cousin’s attentions to different topics and away from her.
Because he chose, many times, to ask his cousin about something personal, Sorcha learned much about him and his place here. She learned of how he’d been sent to find his cousin when Brodie had kidnapped her during the struggle for control of the Mackintoshes. And that he spent his time divided and got several glimpses into his life here and about his parents. Though he tried to keep the banter light and lively, Sorcha recognised a profound hurt and a longing she could not identify within the depths of his stormy gaze. It reminded her of what she’d felt when she’d listened to him describe her own disappearance and death. Something lingered within him that would not be soothed or eased. And, damn her, she wanted to find the cause and rid him of it!
At those times when he deflected attention from her she wanted to offer her thanks to him, but she did not. From the intense gaze of his eyes, she understood he did it on purpose and for her. Sorcha sensed that there were many, many more questions he wished to ask of her, but did not...or did not yet.
‘Bella,’ Alan said, ‘are felicitations owed you and Brodie?’
Everyone at table paused then and looked to the lady for confirmation of such a blessed event, though Alan bringing it up so was unexpected.
‘Aye,’ the lady said after smiling at her husband who was seated at the other end of the table for now. ‘If, pray God, all goes well, we will welcome another child in the spring.’
The announcement drew everyone in the hall forward and the laird to his wife’s side. As though alone, The Mackintosh pulled the lady to her feet and into his arms. The kiss was nothing less than thorough and scorching and something Sorcha had never seen done before others in this manner. If Father Diarmid was alarmed or offended, it did not show. Unable to look away, Sorcha could almost feel Alan’s mouth on hers tasting her deeply. Now knowing what that felt like, she could not pull her gaze away from the sight of them.
‘Come now, Brodie,’ Alan called out as he stood. ‘We know how it was accomplished and there is no need to demonstrate it here!’
The bawdy words brought on loud laughter and calls for more. Others climbed the steps to the dais to offer their good wishes to their laird and lady. Sorcha took it as a chance to escape. Skirting the growing crowd, she made her way through the corridor and out through the kitchens. Pushing open the door there, she rushed faster and faster until almost running towards the gate and the path to the village.
‘Saraid!’
She heard his voice above the noise of the yard and slowed her pace. Turning, Sorcha watched as he trotted across to her. In her attempts to avoid him, she’d ended up spending more time in his company these last few days than she had before.
‘Does the lady wish me to return?’ she asked, brushing her palms over her gown. ‘I had thought her busy with other matters.’
‘Nay, she is seeing to her husband’s pride over his ability to father bairns right now.’
Something made her stop then and speak the truth to him.
‘You did that to draw her attention from me,’ she said, stating what she’d observed him doing these last days. His eyes widened just the tiniest bit before he nodded. ‘Why?’
‘I can tell when Bella is set on a course to discover someone’s secrets.’ He reached out and grabbed her shoulders as she felt all the blood in her body rush to her feet at his admission. ‘She’d been wheedling you these last days and I could see how wearing it was on you.’
His words struck fear in her heart and yet spoke of his having a care for her in a way no one ever had. Sorcha leaned in his direction and he slipped his arms around her shoulders, holding her at his side.
‘Are you going back to the village?’ he asked.
‘Aye.’
‘I will walk with you,’ he said. ‘I need only return by supper to speak to Brodie.’ They had passed through the gates before he spoke again. ‘Bella told me you are leaving soon.’
‘I think it is for the best, Alan,’ she said quietly. His arm yet lay on her shoulders though it was more comforting than she dare admit. ‘The longer I remain here...’ she began.
‘The harder it will be to leave,’ he finished her words.
Sorcha did not say anything more, for it was true. Every day she spent here was a day she regretted her choices. Especially when it came to this man. Oh, she understood that there was no chance for them together, more than he did, but it did not mean she did not wish it could be otherwise for them.
With him.
And with all the knowledge she had gained about him—his past, his boyhood, his choices—it made it that much harder to think about leaving him.
If she told him the truth, his honour would demand a certain course of actions in loyalty to his clan and his uncle. If she left, at least he would never know the depths of her deceit. Sorcha would find some way to warn The Mackintosh of the perfidious nature of Gilbert Cameron and Hugh MacMillan, if only as a way to thank him and his people for their hospitality.
