She nodded, and he took his time over the next hour, making sure she did not change her mind.
When she finally drifted off to sleep, sated and restful in his arms, he wondered if he would ever be able to sleep like that—so soundly, without one eye constantly open, watching for danger, awaiting death in the night, and fearing the loss of her and everything else that he cherished. He was no stranger to loss, and he could not seem to escape the expectation of it.
And so, an hour later, he slipped out of the bed and left the chamber. He headed to the place where he went each night in search of solace. He had never found it before, and sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to try.
But something inside him felt different tonight.
Perhaps it was the awareness of hope.
Chapter Sixteen
Gwendolen sat up in the darkness when she heard the sound of the door open and close.
She was not surprised that Angus had left. There was a discord in his life and heart, and she could feel it in her own. She also knew that he had no interest in discussing it with her. Since the beginning, he had deflected most personal questions in an effort to keep her at a distance, and when he did not want her to press him, he either left the room completely, or reacted with anger and violence, frightening her into a corner. Sometimes he made love to her, which was always an effective distraction.
Tonight, however, for the first time, he had shown some remorse and had apologized for his harsh behavior. It had given her hope that perhaps one day he would open his heart to her more fully.
She lay back down and stared up at the canopy, but knew she would never be able to sleep. She wanted him beside her, and she wanted to understand why he had left in the first place.
Slipping out of bed, she found her shift on the floor, donned a shawl, and padded across the room. She peered out into the corridor and heard his footsteps at the bottom of the stairs, then hurried out to follow him.
She tiptoed over the cold stones, passed by flickering torchlights, and clutched at her shift to keep the drafts from blowing up under it. She ventured through the arched passageways to the chapel, where she finally found Angus kneeling at the altar, his head bowed low.
Of all the places she expected him to be, this was not one of them.
She stood quietly in the doorway, waiting for him to finish, but before she could think about what she was going to say, or how she would approach him, he spun instantly on his knee and drew his pistol.
“It’s only me!” she shouted, lifting her hands as her panicked cry echoed up into the high, vaulted ceiling.
He stared at her for a few seconds, then shoved the pistol back into his belt and rose to his feet. He stalked down the aisle toward her.“Have you got rocks in your head, lass? I could have killed you!”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t think of that. I woke and you were gone. I was worried.”
He stopped cold, halfway down the aisle. “You were worried. Aboutme?” He shook his head with disbelief, as if she were the biggest fool in the world.
For a long moment, he stared at her in the smoky candlelight, then his shoulders rose and fell with a defeated sigh, and he held out his hand. “Ah, lass, you’ll be the death of me. Come in, then. It’s drafty in the door.” He glanced down. “Where are your shoes?”
“I’m not made of sugar,” she replied. “I can survive a chilly floor.” Though the bones in her feet were beginning to throb.
He led her to the front pew closest to the candles that were burning near the choir stall, and she crossed herself before taking a seat. He sat down beside her, told her to swing her legs up onto his lap, then proceeded to massage her cold feet in his big warm hands.
“You may be interested to know,” she said, “that when my father was chief, he did not permit weapons in the chapel.”
Angus lifted his eyes. “What’s your point, lass?”
“No point. It just occurred to me now, and I thought you might care to know.”
“Because I almost committed a terrible sin just now?‘Thou shalt not murder thy wife in the chapel’?”
“That’s not a commandment,” she said.
The corner of his mouth curled up in a sly grin. “Maybe not, but it should be.”
She chuckled back at him. “Aye, I suppose it should. But if we’re going to add that, we should also add: ‘Thou shalt not murder thyhusbandin the chapel.’”
He continued to rub the arch of her foot. “Aye, I reckon that’s only fair.”
When he finished massaging her feet, she lowered her legs to the floor, and they both faced the altar, gazing up at the stained-glass window of the Virgin Mary.
