His gaze flicked to Leah, who was watching him with a frown.Shewould not be his friend either; she would be his estranged wife. After a few weeks had passed, he would likely see her in the distance, walking in her castle, befriending the otters and the deer, having quite forgotten about him.
“What is wrong?” Leah asked, approaching him carefully as he stabbed at a log, showering the grate with sparking embers.
“Nothin’, lass. Leave me be,” he muttered.
“I have spoken to the cook about some dishes that don’t contain meat,” Leah continued, ignoring his sour mood and looking quite pleased with herself. “She was happy to be asked to do something a little different.”
He scoffed. “I’m sure she is. Wait until the guards arenae eatin’ their usual rations. Ye’ll have a mutiny on yer hands.”
“Not if it is delicious. I won’t,” Leah said confidently. “Has she been your cook for long?”
“Aye. Since I returned from battle.”
“She seems very good.”
“She is.”
“What battle were you fighting?” she asked, producing a quill and inkpot from nowhere and sitting down at the table, looking up at him expectantly.
Magnus almost laughed. He had never had anyone look at him like that, waiting for him to tell them tales of his exploits. In fact, he rarely spoke of the battles he had fought at all. He much preferred to drive them from his mind altogether and forget about them.
Her gaze never faltered, and for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he felt a swell of pride.
Suddenly, the thought of sitting by the fire in this quiet room, talking to his wife about his life, seemed like the best use of his time that he could imagine.
He felt the same melancholy settle over him again as he watched her tuck that beautiful hair behind her ear and write something at the top of the page. She was so eager, so unlike him, that he was almost sorry she would be gone within a few weeks.
He dismissed the thought. It was safer for all concerned if she were gone from his side. He never wanted to see her come to harm.
“So, what was the battle called?” she asked.
“Ye dinnae call battles anythin’,” he said, shaking his head. “Nae unless ye are writin’ a history book and there is a King amongst the soldiers. It was a fight. We won.”
She frowned at him. “And is that how you got your scar?”
Magnus leaned back in his chair, uncomfortable with the reference to his deformity. He tried his best, since it happened, not to look in a mirror. He did not like the thought that Leah had to stare at his haggard face every day.
“Nay,” he said softly. “That was as Gibson said. We fought after Elizabeth’s death.”
He had never spoken of that dark time to anyone. For a long while, they sat in silence, Leah waiting patiently for him to speak as he stared at the leaping flames in the hearth, feeling a strange sense of calm envelop him in her presence.
As he sat quietly, with her soft gaze upon him, he found his tongue loosening for the first time, the words tumbling forth unbidden, as though her very presence allowed him to finally unburden himself.
“It was night,” he began softly, his hand coming to the rest on the handle of his dirk as he recalled that day. “She hadnae been dead more than a few hours, but I kenned he was comin’. Nothin’ to prevent it after the shock of such a tragedy.”
He glanced at Leah, seeing the little crease between her eyebrows. In a perverse way, he liked that she did not enjoy him speaking of Elizabeth. It was a strange thing to find pleasure in, but it gave him hope that their marriage was not as clinical as it seemed.
“Go on,” she urged quietly.
“It was a coward’s trick. I dinnae think he intended it to be, but Gibson was lookin’ for me in the castle. He’d come unannounced, sneakin’ in to take me by surprise.”
He sighed. “I was maudlin, drinkin’, nae in a fit state to fight when he found me. We brawled at first—he was almost mad with grief, and I couldnae bear to harm him.” He shook his head. “I have told ye I didnae love Elizabeth, but Iwasgrievin’. I never wanted anythin’ bad to happen to her, whatever Gibson may have said.”
He rubbed a hand over his face, trying his best to will away the sadness that hit him squarely in the chest.
“He came at me with a knife. I dinnae think he meant to kill me—perhaps he did. He was angrier than I’ve ever seen him. He slashed at me face and would have sunk his knife into me neck, but Kenneth found us. Must have heard the fight from his rooms, came in, dragged Gibson off me, and almost got himself killed in the process.”
Magnus sighed. “Gibson was broken. I’ve never seen a faither like that.” He glanced at Leah. “He was devastated. It was theonly reason I spared his life. The blade had nicked the corner of me eye. It was bleedin’ badly, and Betty knew, as soon as I came to her, that I would lose it. There was nothing she could do.”
