Keenan sighed and dropped his gaze to his hands. “I’m so sorry.”
“So ’twas true? If only ye had talked to me, none of this might have happened.”
The silence stretched between them, setting her teeth on edge.
“Fenella, I dinna ken who I am anymore. I didna expect to take on this role for years. Certainly not in the midst of wedding the woman I love. The woman I owe so much to.”
“What love? Ye just admitted ye were only going to marry me to settle a debt to me. If ye loved me, ye would have never treated me the way ye have since…”
“Nay, ’tisna what I meant.” He shifted his daughter on his shoulder. She squirmed, then fell asleep again.
“I’ll admit I was seduced by the idea of the offers of marriage and the choice of dowries MacNabb would have gained. But every time I thought of ye, I couldna choose another. I froze. Responsibilities my da seemed to handle easily overwhelmed me. Even my mother added to the burdens, nagging me to fix things da never took care of.”
He looked away and Fenella thought he had finished with his excuses, none of which she could accept.
But then he continued. “Every time I tried to come to ye, someone intercepted me. Waylaid me and kept me from ye. Or I envisioned how hard it would be to have this conversation with ye.” He fixed his gaze on hers. “’Tis why I couldna speak to ye in the hall that eve. I couldna admit that I hid behind my responsibilities rather than confess to ye that ye might be one more burden than I could handle. I had no time to myself to think.”
Fenella looked away. “Ye thought of me as a burden rather than the one person ye most needed by yer side toeaseyer burdens,” she said softly, as though to herself, as if he was not with her while she digested his rejection. “If only ye had done as yer mother requested of the priest even as she stood over her husband’s body. As yer wife, I could have helped ye.” Fenella clenched her fists in her lap. “Is this any easier now that ye accused me of far worse than expecting to be yer wife?”
“Ye ken it isna. I do love ye.”
He reached for her again, but she shook her head, stopping him.
His free hand dropped to the arm holding his daughter to his shoulder, as though he crossed his arms protectively over his chest. Because of the bairn he held? Or because he was trying to show her remorse?
“Dinna lie to me,” she demanded, raising a palm to him. “On top of everything else, dinna do that. All I ever wanted was to help her, and to help ye,” Fenella told him, nodding to the sleeping bairn. “I love ye. I was about to marry ye. Yet when ye needed me most, ye shut me out. Ye wouldna look at me. So dinna say ye love me. Ye dinna love me at all.”
His eyes squeezed shut, and suddenly she was back in that dark hallway, when he closed his eyes and walked away, leaving her bereft.
“I do love ye.” Then he met her gaze. “I dinna ken how to make ye see—and I’m more sorry than I can ever say—that I can ever make up to ye—that I forgot it for a while.”
“Forgot? Forgot!” Outrage pushed Fenella to her feet and loomed over him. “What am I to do if ye ever forget again? What am I to do after this day? I canna compete with the offers ye were given. I am nay worth ye giving up a dowry that will enrich MacNabb.” She stepped back before she woke Máirín. “And I dinna ken how my heart can heal after what ye said to me today,” she added, more softly. "How ye have treated me since our wed—” She choked, unable to say the word.
He pressed his lips together, but his eyes beseeched her. “I pray ye will forget today and that day. And all the days in between. I want to go back to the way we were, standing on the kirk steps, before da…”
“Changed everything, I ken it.” She took another step away from him. “I dinna ken how.”
Suddenly his demeanor changed. He straightened and sat forward. “I do. Fenella, love, if ye ever trusted me, trust menow.” Máirín shifted on his shoulder and he patted her back to settle her, then turned his attention back to Fenella.
“Give me time to show ye how much I love ye. Take all the time ye need to learn to trust me again. A month, a year, I will wait for ye. Talk to my family. They can tell ye things I couldna before now, things ye dinna want to hear from me, but perhaps ye will accept from them. Please…will ye give me that chance?”
“Are ye daft?” Fear filled Fenella, but resolve replaced it when he slumped and his gaze dropped to the floor at his feet. Her reaction grieved him, that was clear. But what did he expect? How could he think she would trust him again after today?
Yet, she wanted to. Looking at him holding his daughter, the wee lass she also loved, even if it was the most foolish thing she ever did, her wounded heart was willing to try.
She thought back over the time they’d had together since Máirín was born. How she’d helped him move through his grief, how she’d rejoiced to see him smile—even laugh—after months of acting as though he had died with his wife. How he’d warmed to her. Courted her. Appreciated everything she’d done for Máirín—and for him. That man, that Keenan was still in him somewhere. She hoped the time since he became laird was an aberration, or a reflection of the grieving he’d done for his wife that he’d now had to do again for his father, all while picking up his burdens.
“I need ye to steady me,” he said, softly, as though hearing her thoughts. As though he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone—even her—to hear him admit to weakness. “Without ye these past weeks, I’ve flailed. I’ve stumbled. I havena been the laird I need to be.”
“That much is clear.” It was an uncharitable thing to say, but her injuries were still fresh, and she needed him to know how deeply his actions had hurt her.
“I dinna ken if I can do this without ye, Fenella. I dinna want to find out. I do love ye. I want ye to remember that. To think back to before the day we were to wed. My feelings for ye never wavered, despite how I acted.”
Máirín chose that moment to start to fuss. Keenan tried to soothe her, but in moments, she was wailing in his ear.
“Give her to me,” Fenella told him, reaching for the bairn. “Send for yer family. Yer mother, brothers, and Marsali. I want them to hear what ye have said to me. If they believe ye, I will ken that I can as well.”
“I’ll do anything ye wish,” he told her on a deep breath.
