The bed was large but barely dressed.It was just a thin mattress and three furs that looked older than Boyd himself.Nothing like the thick, warm bedding in his own chamber.
The windows—narrow slits designed more for defense than light—let in a grey, cheerless illumination that did nothing to warm the space.Boyd could see his breath misting in the frigid air.
There was no carpet on the stone floor.No tapestries on the walls to hold in warmth.No brazier for additional heat.And with the fireplace blocked, there was no way to warm the chamber at all.
The only furniture besides the bed was a rickety table, a single wooden chair, and a battered trunk that looked like it might collapse if you looked at it wrong.
On that chair sat Bella's two traveling bags.
Everything Bella owned in the world fit into two small bags.
Seeing how little she had, how neatly packed it remained.If she decided to leave him it would take her no time at all.That thought disturbed him.
His wife.The mistress of his Keep had less than most of his servants.
Boyd sank onto the edge of the bed, his eyes still on her belongings, and felt the weight of what he'd done settle over him like a shroud.
She'd been here three days.
Three days in this ice-cold chamber with barely enough blankets to keep warm and no fire at all.Three nights sleeping in a drafty room alone with her nightmares.
And she hadn't complained.
Not once.
Bella had simply...endured.Just as she'd endured the journey without complaint.Just as she'd endured his coldness and his explicit rejection.
Boyd stood abruptly, unable to bear the sight of that cheerless room any longer.
He realised then he was treating her worse than he'd treat a prisoner.Worse than he'd treat an enemy.
Why?Because she'd supposedly betrayed him with Philip Gregory ten years ago.
But Philip Gregory had married someone else.Had clearly moved on with little regard yet Bella had spent years in an abbey, living in poverty.
None of this made sense.
"I never played ye false," she'd told him."I loved ye, Boyd.I waited for ye and ye did not come."
What if she was telling the truth?The thought was terrifying.Because if Bella was telling the truth, that meant he was solely responsible for destroying what they had.
Boyd strode from the chamber, his jaw set with grim determination.He couldn't think about that now.Couldn't face the possibility that he'd been wrong.Not yet.
But he could fix this.This, at least, he could fix.
***
BOYD STORMED THROUGHthe Keep like an avenging angel, his face set in lines of barely controlled fury, most of it directed at himself.
Servants scattered at his approach.Guards straightened to attention.
"MRS.ANDERS!"His voice boomed through the corridors.
The housekeeper appeared within moments; her face creased with concern."Laird?What's wrong?"
"Why is my wife sleeping in a frozen tomb?"
Mrs.Anders's face crumpled."I tried to tell ye—"
