“This is no something I’m going to discuss with my mother.” He picked the knife and skillet up from the floor and banged them on the table.
Niall appeared in the doorway behind his mother. “What’s he done to Sìleas? If he’s hurt her, I’ll kill him.”
Ian sighed and picked up the skillet again, in case he needed to defend himself.
“This is none of your business,” his mother said in a sharp voice. “Go back to bed. I’ll deal with Ian.”
Niall stood clenching his fists and glaring at Ian for a long moment before he obeyed his mother. When the door finally closed behind Niall, Ian set the skillet down. It was all so ridiculous, that a smile tugged at his lips. “Ye will deal with me, will ye, mam? Aren’t I a wee bit big for that?”
“I have some advice to give ye,” she said, “and you’d best listen if ye don’t want to lose your wife.”
Heaving a sigh, Ian followed his mother into the hall and took a seat by the hearth. His head still pounded from the skillet. The lass had a good arm.
“You’ve hardly spoken to Sìleas since ye came home, and then ye go to her room demanding rights as a husband,” his mother said, shaking her head.
“Mam, can you no respect my privacy? This is between Sìleas and me.”
His mother waved her hand again. “What did ye do, jump on the poor lass?”
“No, mam. I didn’t jump on her,” Ian said, keeping his voice calm with effort. “But she is my wife.”
“What kind of fool did I raise?” his mother said, tilting her head up as if beseeching Heaven.
“Ye made me marry her, and now ye are telling me I cannot act like a husband?”
“Ye know verra well that there are all kinds of marriages,” his mother said, pointing her finger at him. “If ye want a happy one, you’ll take my advice.”
He thought of Alex’s parents, who had been warring for as long as he’d known them. “All right, mam. Tell me what ye think I ought to do.”
“Ye broke her heart and hurt her pride,” his mother said. “So now ye must seek her forgiveness and earn her trust.”
“And how am I to do that?”
“Talk with her, spend time with her,” his mother said. “Make her see that ye value her.”
“I do value her,” he said.
“I’m no sure she understood that when ye burst into her bedchamber in the middle of the night demanding your rights.”
“I told ye, it wasn’t like that.”
“Sìleas knows ye were forced to wed her,” his mother said, leaning forward. “So what ye must do is convince her that if ye could have any woman in the world, she is the one you’d choose.”
He still wanted Sìl after she hit him in the head with a skillet—twice. Surely, that counted for something.
But would he choose Sìleas above any other woman? A week ago, he would not have believed it possible. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“Sìleas had a father who thought more of his dogs than he did of his daughter, and then she got a step-da who was worse,” his mother said. “The lass needs a man who sees her worth and loves her. She deserves that. If you can’t give her that, then perhaps ye should step aside.”
Ian had always been fond of Sìleas. But he knew his mother was talking about something more than fondness. She was talking about what she and his father had.
His mother stood up and took his face in her hands. “I planned on the two of ye marrying long before that day your da and uncle caught ye sleeping in the woods with her.”
Ian raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps ye should have told me.”
“It would have done no good,” she said, and kissed his forehead. “Ye and Sìleas were made for each other. Just don’t ruin it by doing something else foolish.”
CHAPTER 10
