“No one has said a thing. It’s the way they look at me. The way they stop talking as soon as I come into the room. I’m a MacDowell, Eoin. To them I might as well be heathen dancing naked around the fires of Beltane. I can’t even go to a convent without gossip and speculation. Half the people here, including your mother, think I’m doing something illicit. Do you know that Fin followed me today? He practically accused me of seducing a priest!”
Eoin frowned. “I’m sure you misunderstood. Fin told me what happened. He was only doing what I asked him to do. You shouldn’t be going back and forth to Oban by yourself.”
Margaret tried to rein in her temper, but it was quickly slipping through her fingers. “I did not misunderstand. I’m sorry, but I cannot like him, Eoin. I’ve tried, but there is something about your foster brother... he makes me nervous.”
His eyes flared with the first real sign of anger. “If Fin has said something or done anything to hurt you, I’ll kill him. Damn it, I thought that business with the race was forgotten. But if he’s holding a grudge...”
“It’s not like that. He hasn’t done or said anything. I just don’t trust him.”
“He’s my best friend, Maggie. I’ve known him since I was seven. I’d trust him with my life.”
“And yet you told him nothing about where you were going either.”
His mouth fell in a hard, grim line; he clearly wasn’t happy to have that pointed out.
He was hiding something. She’d known it, and now she had proof.
“I will talk to him. But you do not need to worry about Fin.”
“Why?”
“He will be leaving with my father and brothers as soon as war breaks out.”
The look of relief on her face told him that maybe there was more than a young girl’s loneliness and penchant for hyperbole at work.
Damn Fin to hell. Eoin suspected his foster brother had just as little regard for his wife as she did him. Maybe it had been a bad idea to have Fin watch over her, but he’d hoped they could become friends.
What a mess. Eoin had never felt so helpless in his life. Exaggerated or not—people didn’t hate her, they just didn’t know her—he could not deny that Margaret was miserable and believed it to be true.
He hated that he hadn’t been here for her to help ease the transition. Hated that she’d had to go through her first few months at Gylen alone. But what the hell was he supposed to do? It was an impossible situation. He shouldn’t even be here right now.
He took a chance and got up off his knees to sit beside her on the bed. When she didn’t shirk away from him, he put his arm around her and drew her against him. She melted into his chest, wrapping her arm around his waist, and he felt the first flicker of hope.
“I wish I could make it easier for you,” he said. “Tell me what I can do to make it better.”
She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes glassy. “Don’t go.”
He was surprised how much the soft plea ate at him, and how much he wished he could stay with her. “If I didn’t absolutely have to go, I wouldn’t. But I’m needed.”
“It’s more than that though, isn’t it,” she accused. “Youwantto go.”
The lass was too perceptive. “I would stay here with you right now if I could, but if you are asking whether this is something I want to do the answer is yes. You knew who I was when you married me. I’m a warrior, Maggie. Warriors fight. And this opportunity—” He stopped, realizing he was treading too close to the truth. “This is something I’ve been preparing for my whole life. There will be challenges and the chance to do something different—the chance to make a difference.”
“So you are choosing war over me?”
Damn it, that wasn’t what he was doing at all. It didn’t have to be an either-or—not unless she made it that way. “I’m not choosing anything. What would you have me do? Ignore my duty? Would you ask your father or brothers to do the same? Would your mother have demanded your father stay with her rather than fight for King John?”
He could see the answer shimmering angrily in her eyes.
He took her chin, tilting it toward his. “Do you love me, Maggie?”
He didn’t expect her to hesitate. When she did, he realized how close he was to losing her, his gut checked hard. Hell, it scared the shite out of him.
“Aye,” she said finally.
“Then don’t give up on me. I know it’s been difficult for you, but if you could just try a little longer, I know you’ll win them over.” He smiled wryly. “Don’t tell me all these new gowns and veils have made you soft.”
A furrow appeared between her finely etched brows. “Soft?”
