It was an ugly question.
One that she wished her mind hadn’t procured.
But now that it had, it circled her head like a gnat, buzzing just out of reach as it searched for a place to draw blood.
“I heard that Robert Campbell came tae visit and take the wee ones besides.” Allison arched a perfectly groomed ebony brow. “How did ye manage that trick?”
“It wasn’t a trick,” Brynne said defensively. “Lachlan’s siblings should be in the care of their father, and I…”
I shouldn’t be explaining myself to you,she thought crossly.
“Can you see that my husband receives that?” she said, nodding at the basket. “And have someone send word to me when he has awoken.”
Allison curtsied again, although there was a detectable hint of mockery in her tone when she said, “Ofcourse, my lady.”
Brynne smiled thinly. “Thank you.”
Against her better instincts, she went back to the castle, and spent a large portion of the night roaming the damp halls, the train of her wrapper fluttering behind her as she paced from one window to the next, searching the inky darkness for sign of a light, or a horse, or even a wayward pig.Anythingto indicate that her husband was soon to return home.
He’d spent previous nights at the distillery. Too many to count. But they hadn’t gnawed at her as they did now. She didn’t know whether it was their argument, or her encounter with his mistress, or even the quiet…butsomethingwas lifting the hairs at the nape of her neck. Something was causing her breaths to shorten and her chest to fill with lead. Something was sending her into a near panic as she fought both sleep and the sly whispers of“what if?”
At the first streak of dawn across an ominous red sky, she was on her way to the distillery. Passing fields pillaged by rooting boars, the neat rows of barley torn asunder, the soil churned up, years of hard work utterly demolished in the span of a few hours.
Lachlan would rebuild, because that’s who he was.
But as she climbed the steps to the lodge, a rectangular building made of crudely hewn timber tucked behind a line of aspen, she felt the ache of his loss–oftheirloss–as if it were a tangible being.
They’d just have to start over, she decided. Except this time, they’d do it differently. This time, they’d do ittogether. With no secrets or half-truths between them.
She’d write to Weston this day to let him know that she wasn’t in Paris, as she had led him to believe, but married and living in a castle in the Highlands. Oh, but to see his expression when he read that letter! He’d be angry with her. Most likely disappointed. But he’d come around when he saw that she was happy. And shewouldbe happy. As soon as she and Lachlan had the opportunity to clear the air between them, lay all of their proverbial cards upon the table (no more hiding their relationship from thetonout of some misguided attempt at retaining her social standing, no more hiding the truth from her out of some attempt to get the reaction or answer that he wanted), and begin anew.
They would be honest, even when it was hard.
Especiallywhen it was hard.
Because in their hearts, they loved each other. And there was nothing that could tear that love apart.
Except this, Brynne thought dazedly as she raised her fist to knock on the bedroom door and it swung inward beneath the slight pressure of her hand to reveal her husband sprawled on his back in the middle the bed…with Allison Adair draped across the top of him.
She didn’t know how long she stood there.
Staring.
Just staring.
At the coverlet thrown on the floor. At the sheets tangled on the bed. Covering some parts of their bodies, but not enough to hide that they were both naked. At Allison’s dark hair fanned across his shoulder. At the steady rise and fall of Lachlan’s ribcage as he slept, blissfully oblivious to the presence of his wife in the doorway. Or the knife he’d plunged into her heart.
Oh, Lachlan. What have you done to us?
She must have made a sound, a tiny whimper of distress, because Allison’s eyes opened and went straight to where Brynne stood frozen; a deer in the midst of a thicket right before the hunter’s gun exploded.
“Lady Campbell!” she cried, grabbing onto a corner of the sheet and drawing it over her breasts. “I–I dinna know what tosay.”
Lachlan stirred. His mouth stretched in a yawn that turned into a grimace. He scratched the side of the jaw where a rough shadow of beard had grown overnight and then–while Brynne watched and fought to contain the nausea rising within her throat–reached for Allison.
“This is a pleasant way tae wake up,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“Ye are right about that,” Allison purred, rubbing herself against him without breaking Brynne’s horrified gaze. “Unfortunately, it seems we’ve been caught. It was bound tae happen eventually. I’m so sorry ye had tae find out this way, Lady Campbell. But as they say, like father, like son.”
