“I have it now,” a voice said, behind her.
Startled, she swung around to find herself gazing at her husband, the great Scottish Lion. His hair was tied back in a neat queue. He wore a clean white shirt, and the brooch that was pinned to his tartan was polished to a fine, bright sheen.
“What is it, exactly, that you have?” she asked, determined to challenge him, for he had certainly challenged her in recent days.
“Proof. Proof of your loyalty to Kinloch. And to me.” He strode closer, slowly, and a warm breeze lifted a lock of his hair that had fallen forward at his temple.
“How wonderful for you,” Gwendolen coolly replied. “Now you can rest easy at night knowing your wife isn’t going to poison you, or dirk you in your sleep.”
She saw a spark of amusement flash across his eyes. It was not something she’d expected, nor had she seen it often in the past. He was a very menacing sort of man, most of the time.
“Unless I take up with Raonaid again, or some other woman,” he added, seeming quite determined to correct her on that point. “You threatened me once about that, if I recall, and I took you seriously, lass.”
She strolled closer to him. “Ah yes, I remember. It was after you raised my skirts and had me on top of a desk. It was not our finest hour, Angus. You had just accused me of lying about carrying your child, and you suspected me of plotting your death.”
“But you enjoyed the lively shagging, didn’t you?” he asked, ignoring all the rest. “I’m quite sure you did.”
They stood before each other on the rooftop, barely a foot apart, and Gwendolen wondered if it was possible for a woman to collapse from the overwhelming effect of conflicting emotions—for despite everything, her husband was still the most beautiful, fascinating man alive, and she would have done anything at that moment just to touch him.
“Maybe I did enjoy it,” she said, “but the fact remains, you thought the worst of me. You did not believe I was loyal. You later thought I knowingly gave you poisoned wine when I did no such thing. I would never have done that, and I told you so, but still—you could not trust me.”
His thick, broad chest expanded with a deep intake of breath, then he drew his sword. Gwendolen stepped back, unnerved by the threatening sight of Angus the Lion, looking as if he were preparing to engage in battle. To her surprise, he dropped to one knee and rested the point of his sword on the stone floor in front of him. He gripped the hilt in both hands.
“I am Angus Bradach MacDonald,” he softly said, “and I pledge my allegiance to you, Gwendolen MacEwen—my wife, mother of my child. I was wrong to doubt you.”
He closed his eyes, as if he was waiting for something.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked. “Tap you on the shoulder and say that you are forgiven?”
He looked up. “Aye, that would do.”
She frowned and smacked him across the side of the head. “Are you mad? I did nothing but pledge allegiance to you repeatedly and satisfy you in bed—also repeatedly. I was fertile enough to make you an expectant father after a mere month of marriage, and still, was that enough? No. I admit, my mother was a devious vixen and my brother was a self-seeking scoundrel, butneverdid I do anything to betray you. I was a good wife, who was deceived, just as you were. Yet you treated me like a woman deserving of punishment. You locked me up like a criminal and didn’t believe me when I told you I was innocent. Bluidy well right, you are on your knees now! I ought to tell you to stay there for a year!”
Her husband looked up at her with surprise, then his lips widened into a smile, and he bent forward, laughing.
It was the first time she had seen her husband smile in such a way, let alone laugh. She hadneverseen him laugh. Not once.
Gwendolwn frowned. “Are you laughing at me?”
He nodded, as tears spilled from the outer corners of his clear blue eyes. “Aye, lassie! I just realized that you’re madder than the witch I lived with in the Hebrides for the better part of a year. You’re fookin’ insane!”
Gwendolen began to laugh, too, and wondered how it was possible that she could forgive him so easily for all the pain he had caused her.
“It’s not funny,” she said, deeply offended, irritated, and amused—all at the same time. “I held true to my pledge, so you never had any right to be angry with me. I did nothing wrong.”
He slowly rose to his feet, and his smile faded. “You’re right about that, lass. I was the one who was wrong, and it had nothing to do with you. It was me.” He paused. “It’s just that… I’ve never loved anyone before, so I’m a bit… I’m a bit raw.”
Her heart softened immediately at the sound of the word “love,” spoken so openly from his very own lips. How she had dreamed of hearing him say it, just once. How she had wanted to feel his affections. “Aye, that you are.”
“It’s not that I didn’t believe you about the wine,” he continued. “I did. I knew you were telling the truth, and that your brother tricked you. I think I knew it all along, but I was afraid to believe it, afraid of being disappointed somehow—because I’ve had a hard life, lass. I lost the only two women in the world I ever cared about.”
“Your mother and sister…” she finished for him.
“Aye. All my life, I’ve lived for vengeance and nothing else. Even when I first met you and claimed you as my bride, there was a part of me that wanted to hurt you, to be cruel to you, because I saw you as the enemy. I saweveryoneas the enemy—even those I cared about. But since being with you, lass, my desire to fight and take my revenge out on the world has waned. It’s a part of me that has gone very…”
Gwendolen stepped forward, curious. “Very what, Angus?”
He squinted toward the horizon. “Very quiet.”
