Taking note of the faint hint of censure in her tone, Lachlan leaned against the gnarled trunk of an apple tree and lifted a brow. “I assumed ye would be pleased.”
“While I do think children should be with their parents, I would have liked to be consulted.” She crossed her arms. “This is something we should have decided together.”
And here he thought he’d been doing her a favor. “They’re me siblings.”
“Yes, butweare a family. And while I will hardly miss finding snakes in my undergarments, this was a choice that I’d have liked to discuss with you before you made it for both of us.”
“Ye’re angry,” he observed as she resumed walking, albeit with a noticeably stiffer gait.
“I am,” she tossed over her shoulder.
“Why?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Because if I wanted important decisions to be made without anyone bothering to ask for my opinion, I would have remained in England!”
Ah, there it was.
He’d been waiting–no,expecting–this to happen.
It was only a matter of time.
Or so that little voice in the back of his head had whispered when shadows crept and owls cried. That it wouldn’t be long before his bride began to yearn for the luxuries she’d left behind. That he’d never be able to give her what she needed to stay.
A piece of him had been preparing himself for this moment since Gretna Green. It was why, without fully realizing what he was doing or why he was doing it, he’d been keeping her at arm’s length. Because you couldn’t be hurt from losing what you didn’t have.
And he did not have Brynne.
Not all of her, at any rate.
Six months of marriage and a part of her remained tied to theton.
A tether waiting to reel her in.
A net ready to cushion her fall.
This wasn’t amarriageto her, he thought with a surge of resentment. It was a bloody experiment. If it failed, she’d fly back into her gilded cage with nary a feather ruffled while he bled out on the ground.
And he had the means to prove it.
“Have ye written tae yer brother yet?” he snarled as anger filled him. Tangled up with his own shame, it pulsed hot and heavy through his veins, driving up his temper from a place of fear and desperation as his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched.
“I…” She gave a bewildered shake of her head. “What does he have to do with this?”
“Just answer the question, Bry. Have ye told Weston that we’re married or not?”
“No,” she said after a long pause. “Not yet, but–”
“Goddamnit,” he cursed, throwing his arms wide as he started to stalk away, only to whip around to confront her with glittering eyes and a bitter heart. “Was that yer plan all along, then? Tae have a laugh in Campbell Castle for a while, and then jaunt back tae Hawkridge when ye grew weary of playing the poor lady wife in a castle ye despise?”
Her hazel eyes widened. “What? How could you say such a thing? I didn’t write to Weston because our wedding was too important to tell him about in a letter. And I don’tdespiseCampbell Castle. I just…” Her hands lifted helplessly. “It isn’t what I was expecting.”
“Aye, I should have told ye there’d be no butlers tae wait on ye hand and foot.” A part of Lachlan acknowledged that he was being a right brutish bastard. But that was the problem with shame. More than any other emotion, it twisted a person up inside. It made them defensive when they didn’t even know what they were defending against. And it made them lash out when they’d be better served to retreat to their own corner until cooler heads prevailed. But there was no calm to be found here. Not when the woman he loved had all but admitted she was too embarrassed of him to tell anyone they were married.
Oh, not in so many words.
But silence, pauses, hesitations…they spoke volumes.
And it was past time he started listening.
