Page 74 of Fire in his Highland Heart

Arguen had been pacing, crying, ceasing both, and starting again when it all became too overwhelming for her. She wanted to think Douglas had the power to fix it, of course, but Blake was headstrong and independent. Unless he had a true change of heart, she was doomed. She desperately wished there was a monastery nearby in which she could take shelter, but Douglas was right. Scotland was a Protestant country now, and had been for decades. Perhaps she could find a ship and head off to the New World, across the Atlantic, and start a new life. It would be difficult, of course, being an unmarried woman with a child. Or...as she’d said to Douglas earlier, there were always herbal options for this kind of situation. She’d helped a few unlucky women in the past, but she also knew the pain was intense.

Her mind whirled with all these terrible thoughts, so she threw herself down on the hideous chaise Cataline had bought to liven the room, and looked up at the dark beams of the ceiling. She really had thought Blake would propose. The prospect had made her so happy. Growing up, she never thought anyone would want to spend the rest of their life with her, simply because of her craft and her strange silver hair and bright eyes. But Blake had seen all of her, in every sense of the word, and he had accepted her. She knew he was the only man for her, but now, all her hopes were dashed. Just as she’d begun to control her weeping, it began again, and she could not stop it.

She cried so much that she nearly missed the knocking at the door. Thinking it might be Douglas with news, she rose, straightened her bodice and her petticoats, and looked in the glass to fix the flyaway hairs under her cap and wipe away her tears. It was obvious she had been crying, but she did not want to look as if she was falling apart. When she was satisfied with her general appearance, she threw her shoulders back, straightened up, and opened the door.

The sight almost had her reeling again. It was Blake, looking a little worse for wear, with a few cuts on his face and bruises underneath his eye. He smiled rather sheepishly, perhaps to mask the guilt.

“I, um…” he said nervously, unsure of how to start the conversation. “I... brought ye some flowers.” From behind his back, he produced a small collection of wildflowers. They were beautiful, and Arguen marveled at the color. She accepted them gingerly. “May I come in?” he asked.

She nodded, trying her very hardest to keep her composure. He limped a little bit as he walked, and let out a great sigh of relief as he sat on the chaise. In that moment, Arguen connected the pieces, and realized he and Douglas must have fought. Why else would Blake look as if he had just come from a common tavern brawl?

“Arguen, I need tae apologize tae ye again,” he said softly.

“Aye, I would like an explanation,” she said, trying to lessen the tension between them.

Blake took a deep breath before explaining. “During yer testimony wi’ Mr. Murray, I went tae talk tae Cataline. Tae tell her about Mirellain, an’ tae seek closure. She…” he gulped, “she wormed her way intae my mind. Convinced me that ye an’ Malcolm would be together with her gone. I thought, nay, that’s ridiculous. I left, an’ was in such a foul mood, I needed tae see ye. Seeing ye, bein’ wi’ ye, it calms me, comforts me,” he said, reaching out a gentle hand to cover her own.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as he continued. “An’ after such an unpleasant chat, I thought seein’ ye would make me better. The door was open, an’ I heard Malcolm confess his love for ye. Then I heard ye say ‘Och Malcolm,’ and I saw ye embrace. I thought the worst. Cataline’s words ran through my mind, an’ I believed them. I thought I’d been humiliated again, so I left.”

Arguen sniffled a little, and lifted a delicate finger to wipe the now falling tears off her cheeks. “I wish ye’d stayed for the rest of our conversation,” she said. “Ye would’ve heard me tell Malcolm that yer the only man for me. I just wish ye’d said somethin’, or came tae speak with me ‘afore runnin’ off. It made me think…” she gulped, her voice shaking, “it made me think ye dinnae love me anymore. An’ now that we’ve created something taegether…” her hand instinctively rested on her stomach, “I dinnae think I could bear losin’ ye.”

Blake looked down at her stomach and back up at her eyes, as if asking for consent, and she gave him a nod. He rested his hand on top of hers. “Douglas told me. An’ I want ye tae ken...I didnae come back just for this. I dinnae want ye tae feel like this was some obligation. I came back because I realized I love ye more than anythin’, and I cannae imagine life without ye. So please, accept this apology. An’ if one day ye find it in yer heart tae forgive me, I look forward tae that day.”

Arguen lifted a hand and cupped Blake’s cheek gently, careful not to touch the scratches and wounds. He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand.

“Blake, my love, there is nothin’ tae forgive. ‘Twas all a misunderstandin’. From here on out, we must simply be honest and communicate wi’ each other ‘afore jumpin tae conclusions.”

He nodded, his eyes closed, as he kissed her hand tenderly. “Agreed,” he murmured.

She let him relish this moment for a while longer, then her healer’s curiosity got the better of her. “I ought tae have a look at these wounds,” she said.

Blake cleared his throat and nodded. “Aye. Yer brother puts up a good fight,” he said with a grin.

“So that’s what happened, eh?” she asked, rising and heading over to the sideboard with all her healing accoutrements. Yesterday, before her testimony, Malcolm had all her things from her old room moved up here, so she could live and work in the same space for the time being.

“Aye. He must’ve ridden fast. We weren’t that far from Bruckstone, and he caught up quick. Blocked our path. Challenged me tae a duel.”

Arguen looked back, horrified. “A duel? I thought those were formal,” she said.

“Aye, they are. James convinced us it ‘twas not the thing tae do. So we settled for a good old fashioned fight wi’ our fists.”

Arguen shook her head as she mixed together the poultice. “I will never understand why men resort tae fists first.”

“Aye, well, that is because ye’re good an’ kind. Ye would not think tae fight,” Blake observed.

“Well. Not unless provoked,” she said with a smirk. When she was finished crushing the small onion and mixing it with honey, she brought it over in a small bowl and seated herself close to him on the chaise. “This might sting a bit, an’ smell terrible, but it will help tae clean the cuts an’ close them faster.”

Blake took a deep breath and steeled himself. She had been right--it did sting, and he yelped, a most unmanly, awkward yelp, when the poultice touched the wound.

“Hey! Stay still, yer lairdship!” she exclaimed.

“‘Tis painful!” he protested.

“Well. Mayhap ye deserve a bit of it.”

Blake tsked. “Och, ye do have me there. I’m sorry.”

“‘Twas a jest, Blake. But I accept yer apology all the same,” she said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.