“Enough, Isla. I said I’ll call for ye in a while. Ye can go now.”
“Och, don’t have that tone with me. I’m not here to speak wi’ the Laird,” she shot back, her voice suddenly catching in her throat.
The enormity of everything that was happening all of a sudden felt like it was going to swallow her whole, and she could not fathom how he could not see it, could not see some level of what was going on inside her head in that instant.
“I’m afraid that is the same person. And as my wife, ye should?—”
“Aye, I’m here to speak with my husband,” she continued. “Not the brute I thought I was married to at first. This is not the man I love!”
The words exploded out of her before she could stop them. She could see the shock that coursed through him at the sound of her telling him that she loved him. In all honesty, she had not imagined being able to say it out loud, not for a long time, at least. She had pictured him being the one to say it first, not her spitting it out before she could stop herself when she was demanding his attention. She stared at him, silently willing him to say it back, to say something to soften the blow of her being the first to speak them aloud.
But instead, he stood there, his eyes wide, staring at her as though he had no notion of what she wanted to hear. And, with that, what little remained of her pride seemed to crumble, and she felt tears spring to her eyes.
His silence was answer enough. If he could not find time for her now, find the time even to tell her that he did not want her to go after she had made such an enormous confession, she doubted he ever would. Whatever he was doing in that moment, it was more important than her, and she could see it as clear as day.
She rushed out of his study, half-hoping that he might call after her, but he did not. The silence rang in her ears, and she gulped down a breath, the discomfort within her was nothing compared to the weight of realization in her mind. How could she have told him she loved him? She felt foolish for even considering the possibility, as if she should have known that he would never care for a woman like her, not the way she wanted him to. Yes, he could defend her against Robert, but that was more about disowning his father’s cruel legacy than protecting her…
But, before she could so much as catch her breath, she found herself crashing into someone. She hardly had time to mutter out an apology before she heard concerned tones worm their way into her ear.
“Isla, what’s wrong?”
Isla lifted her head for just long enough to make eye contact with Archie. And, though Camron’s words about the kind of man he is, the kind of power he seeks, were still fresh in her mind, she found something crumbling inside her.
Had he been eavesdropping? It wasn’t as though his quarters were anywhere nearby. Doubt tried to break through, but it could not reach her in the chaos rushing through her mind.
“I… I…”
“Here,” he murmurs, as the tears burst down her cheeks.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, and she didn’t have the strength in her to resist. Heaving sobs wracked her body, and she found herself too at a loss to beginto tell him what was bothering her. How could she begin to tell him, anyway? This man, she knew she couldn’t trust him, and yet, here he was, when her husband seemed unable to so much as tell her that he loved her.
“I don’t know what it is,” she gasped. “I—I tried to tell him what was going on with me, but…”
“Is there something wrong?” Archie asked, frowning. “Are ye alright, Isla?”
“I’m fine,” she replied, and then she shook her head, almost laughing at how ridiculous she sounded. She was standing there, sobbing, and telling him she was fine? He’d be mad to trust her. Anyone would.
“Isla, ye can tell me,” he promised her, gripping her arms as though doing his best to pull her back to earth.
Her heart twisted in her chest. Here, all at once, was a man who seemed to actually care about the state she was in. All at once, before she could stop herself, the words exploded from her lips.
“I think I might be… wi’ child.”
He stood there for a moment, clearly stunned. A muscle twitched in his eye, and an expression of sympathy that seemed quite practiced fell over his face.
“Ye’re…”
“I dinnae ken for sure,” she corrects herself, the words thick with tears. “But I… I tried to speak with Camron, and he?—”
“Aye, I thought I noticed something about ye,” he remarked, putting his arm around her as he moved her away from the study, allowing her to catch some breath. “A glow, I thought. Come now, you must take some air. It’s no’ good for a lassie in yer situation to be in a stuffy place like this.”
She realized, after a few moments, that Archie was steering her towards the courtyard, his arm around her shoulders, his murmuring voice soothing her as best he could.
“Where are we?—”
“Ye need to take some air,” he insisted. “Ye’ll feel better for it. Here, wi’ me…”
He led her outside, and all at once, his grip tightened on her arm, pulling her forward, making her stumble slightly. She frowned, trying to draw back.
