Caitrina could see from their faces that they wanted to say something. “What is it, Beth?”
The girl hesitated, blushing a little as if she didn’t know quite how to put it. “We just wanted to say that . . . uh . . . we all admire you, mistress, for what you have done. And for your, uhm, bravery.”
Bravery?“What for?”
Beth lowered her voice, her eyes darting to the doorway where Jamie had just disappeared. “You know, for marrying the Henchman. Did you see how he yelled at poor Robby and Thomas? They were just trying to help.”
“He was right to speak to them so; the lads could have been hurt.” She didn’t want to point out that the young men had been trying to impress them in the first place. But it was clear the girls hadn’t seen it the same way she had. If only they would give Jamie a chance.
She stopped, stunned by the direction of her thoughts and by how closely she’d allied herself with her husband. He’d done so much for her; why was she realizing it only now? Not just in rebuilding Ascog, but in seeing it restored to her clan in the first place. She knew his brother had wanted it, yet Jamie had risked Auchinbreck’s displeasurefor her.And that hadn’t been the first time. When he’d heard of the attack on Ascog, he’d raced back and tried to stop it. Then later, he’d risked Argyll’s displeasure by withholding the location of the MacGregor until he could negotiate his surrender, knowing what his safety had cost her father. He could have killed the MacGregor, the man he’d been hunting, but he hadn’t. He’d done this for her, as a show of good faith, and what had she showed him in return? Suspicion and distrust.
The truth hit her hard. If she wanted her people to accept Jamie—to give him a chance—it had to start with her.
He was her husband. It was her duty. . . .
No. It had nothing to do with duty, but everything to do with the confusing tangle of emotions she felt for him. Emotions that she feared had taken hold and would not be easily dislodged.
“And the way he looked at you. It frightened me near to my toes.” Beth shivered. “If he’d looked that way at me, I would have turned and run.”
The other girls nodded furiously, and Caitrina smiled at their dramatics. “Oh, he’s not so bad.”
All three girls looked at her as if she were daft.
“No, he’s worse,” a man said. “And you’ll do well not to forget it, lassie.”
Recognizing the voice, Caitrina turned at the interruption to see Seamus carefully making his way down a ladder. As one of the few men with experience in construction, he’d been given the task of overseeing the necessary supply of wood for the construction. Jamie had honored him with the responsibility, not that you would know it by Seamus’s resentment.
As promised, Caitrina had talked her father’s guardsmen into submitting to Jamie, though she almost wished she hadn’t. Seamus was stirring up trouble.
“I’ve not forgotten, Seamus,” she said quietly. “But you can’t ignore the good he’s done around here. He’s given me no cause to distrust him.” She turned back to Beth and the other girls. “Nor is he the ogre people have made him out to be. We need to give him a chance.” When they didn’t look convinced, she pointed out, “He is our laird now.”
“Not for long, God willing,” Seamus said.
He wore a certain look on his face that sent a chill of foreboding through her. She frowned, hoping she had misunderstood his intent. “It will be some time before we have a son old enough to become laird, Seamus.”
At the rate they were going, a child would be a miracle.
Jamie had just reentered the hall and was heading straight for Caitrina when he overheard her unexpected defense of him and experienced a flare of hope.
It was the first sign he’d had in the almost week since they’d been at Ascog that she might be softening. He’d begun to wonder whether he’d done the right thing in removing himself from her bed. He’d wanted to give her time, to make her realize that what they had was special. To miss not only their lovemaking but him. The long, cold nights, however, had begun to chafe. He worked himself almost to the point of collapse every day to take his mind off his lovely bride, but her constant presence was like a burr under his saddle.
He was too damn aware of her and found himself watching her at the most inopportune times. His only conciliation was that he knew she watched him, too. It felt less that they were man and wife and more like two cagey lions circling each other.
At times, he felt as if he were watching a completely different person from the one he’d first met. Gone was the pampered and indulged lass dripping with silks and laces, and in her place was a determined young woman who swabbed floors all day long in a gown not fit for a servant. For a girl who’d once dressed like a princess, the change was startling. Despite his repeated offers of new clothing and jewels, nothing she wore bore any signs of wealth. Her hair, which had once been twisted in elaborate arrangements, was now tied back simply at her nape with a thin, tattered black ribbon and had lost its lustrous shine.
But the changes went far deeper than appearance. At one time he’d thought her oblivious of what was going on around her, but nothing could be further from the truth. He was surprised by how perceptive she was of her people’s needs. From organizing the men to aid the women who’d lost husbands in the attack with their fields or livestock to offering a hug or the squeeze of a hand in comfort—Caitrina was there.
The open display of love and affection he’d once witnessed her shower on her family had transferred to her clan.
Yet rightly or wrongly, Jamie craved it for himself.
The destruction of her home and family had forced her to grow up and take on more responsibility. He could admire the woman she’d become, but not all the changes were welcome. She’d been disillusioned, and there was nothing he could do to give her back her youthful naïveté. He would do anything to see joy in her eyes, untainted by sadness and loss.
But his more immediate concern was her health. He could see the signs of weariness on her pale face and knew she was probably getting as little sleep as he. She was working too damn hard, and he wasn’t going to sit around and let her drive herself to exhaustion.
She’d claimed once that he’d wanted her as a possession, as a pretty ornament to have by his side. If there had ever been a hint of truth in her appraisal, there wasn’t any now. He would be proud to have her by his side, not for her beauty, but for her strength and resilience. For her spirit and passion. For the drive that matched his own. And for the compassion he’d witnessed countless times this past week with her clan. It was she who comforted, even though she had lost more than anyone.
His desire for her had nothing to do with possession and everything to do with how she made him feel—she’d touched a part of him he hadn’t even known existed. Feeling. Emotion. Sentiment. All these things had been alien to him until he’d met Caitrina.
