“Later, lad. It can wait.”
“Oh, nay, it cannae. Ireallyneed to talk to ye.”
“Ah, to plan the wedding, eh?” Angus slapped Artan on the back and smiled at Cecily.
In an attempt to startle Angus into silence, Artan snapped, “We are already married. We were handfasted in a wee village four days’ ride from here. Now, could we please go somewhere and talk about this?”
“No need to creep away. No shame in a handfast marriage, but I will see it done right, by a priest. Cannae have anyone asking questions about my heir’s marriage, can I?”
Cecily frowned. “But, Uncle, Malcolm is your heir. I am married to Artan.”
“Aye, I ken it, lass, and that now makes Artan my heir. He and I talked on it ere he went to fetch ye. Now I dinnae have to have Malcolm as my heir.” Angus rubbed his hands together in an expression of pure delight. “This cheers an old mon’s heart, that it does. I can rest easy kenning that when I am gone a good, strong mon will step into my place and keep Glascreag strong. And e’en better, the bairns ye two make will have more MacReith blood in their veins than any spawn of Malcolm’s would.” He frowned at Cecily. “Are ye weel, lass? Ye have gone all pale.”
“Have I?” she murmured.
Cecily was a little surprised she was still standing and not lying in shards upon the floor. She felt as if she had shattered into hundreds of little sharp pieces. Finally able to move, she slowly looked at Artan. Artan her husband, her lover, her betrayer.
Artan saw the pain in Cecily’s eyes and almost embraced her in a desperate attempt to ease it. Only a strong instinct for survival stopped him. “Now, Sile, I can explain this.”
“Can ye? Explain what? Did ye speak to Uncle of marrying me in order to be made my uncle’s heir?”
He knew there had to be something he could say to soften the hard edges of that question yet still be the truth, but all that came out of his mouth was a hoarse, “Aye.”
She had not really thought it possible to hurt any more than she did already. Somehow she was not surprised that Artan found a way to prove her wrong. “And when did ye think ye might tellme?”
“Weel, I have been trying to think of a way since the day we left Dunburn, but I couldnae think of the right words.”
“Nay, I suspicion ’tis difficult to ask a lass, ‘Please marry me because I really wish to be a laird.’”
“It wasnae like that.”
“Nay? Ye lied to me.”
“I didnae lie. I just didnae tell ye all the truth.” He could tell by the look in her eyes that that sounded as bad to her as it did to him.
Cecily leaned toward him and said quietly, “Sometimes, Sir Artan, nay telling the truth is as near to telling a lie as to make no difference at all. I believe this is one of those times.” She straightened up, turned toward the stairs, and started to climb them, wondering why it felt as if she were climbing a mountain. “If ye would excuse me, I believe I shall go tomybedchamber to bathe and rest.”
Artan did not like the sound of thatmy.“I will join ye later.”
“Nay, if ye wish to sit in a laird’s chair.”
“I think your wee wife just threatened ye,” said Angus, smiling faintly.
“Aye, she did.” Artan sighed. At a complete loss as to what to do, he turned to Angus. “Ye and I need to go to the solar and talk. There is a lot ye need to know.”
“Arenae ye going to go and soothe the lass?”
“I think I will give her temper some time to cool first.”
Several hours had passed before Artan found the courage to go up to his bedchamber, the one that Cecily had claimed for her own. He cautiously opened the door, faintly relieved that she had not locked it against him, and called out her name. He ducked just in time to avoid being hit square in the face by a large ewer. It hit the door he crouched in front of and shattered, soaking him with the water it had held. Artan quickly retreated even as he wondered how she had managed to hurl a full ewer of water at his head and spill so little of the water. Maybe a night of sleeping alone would make Cecily willing to listen to him.
Cecily stared at the door her lying, betraying slug of a husband had just fled through. She had spent hours all alone crying until her chest hurt. Now she was angry, at him and at herself. She had been foolish enough to think he had wanted her, just her, and that there was little gain in his marrying her, and all that time he had been thinking of becoming the laird of Glascreag. Until she got her raging emotions under control, she did not want to see him or talk with him. She knew all too well how easily he could sway her back to his side, and she would not play the fool again. She needed to stay away from his silvery blue eyes and his strong body until she found the strength to treat his words and kisses with the cynicism they so richly deserved.
She also needed time to build a few more layers of ice around her poor, shattered heart.
Chapter 14
“Ye should have told her.”
