Page 22 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)

O scar had not intended to overhear the conversation between the two women.

He had wandered into the kitchens with Hunter, who had not yet had his breakfast, to see what could be prepared.

The feast in the breakfast hall had been spoiled with splatters of blood, and there was no one grumpier than Hunter when he was hungry.

At first, Oscar had only noticed Maddie and Grace in the herb garden, watching from the window while Hunter ransacked the larder.

But as their faces had grown more serious, and Maddie’s voice had risen in volume, he hadn’t been able to help hearing what she had to say about this Simon fellow. Or, rather, what she wouldn’t say.

That man wounded her deeply, I ken that much, and I ought to snap him in half for the insult of it.

“Hunter?” Oscar called.

His friend emerged from the larder with a chunk of white cheese, which he bit into like an apple. “What?”

“Can ye go out there and take yer wife on a walk,” Oscar replied. It wasn’t a request.

Hunter glanced through the window, his morning grumpiness softening into a smile at the sight of Grace.

“Aye, I can, but she’ll nae want to leave Maddie after what’s happened.

With these Horndean lasses, Oscar, ye have to understand that they’re like sisters.

They love their friends more than anythin’. ”

“Fine, I’ll do it meself then,” Oscar muttered, opening up the garden door.

The two ladies jumped in surprise, separating from their sisterly embrace. A flicker of panic crossed Maddie’s face, her beautiful eyes flitting from Oscar to the kitchen window, no doubt wondering how much he’d heard.

“Hunter wants ye in the kitchen, Grace,” Oscar said. “I dinnae ken what for. To share the huge piece of cheese he’s eatin’, maybe.”

Grace frowned, hesitating as Hunter had said she would. It was the same disapproving, reluctant hesitation she’d shown in the hall, though Oscar hoped it would turn out the same way. With him, alone with his wife.

“Aye, it’s yer favorite!” Hunter shouted from inside. “Ye said ye didnae eat enough this mornin’, so I’m makin’ ye breakfast.”

Grace glanced at Maddie, who replied with a small nod.

“Come and find me once ye’re done,” Grace said, gently touching Maddie’s arm.

She leaned in closer, whispering something that Oscar couldn’t hear. Maddie nodded along with whatever sentiment was being poured into her ear, her eyes glazed over as if her mind had transported her far away.

“I’ll see you later,” Grace concluded, before heading across the stepping-stones to where Oscar stood.

She shot him a pointed look as she passed, brimming with the protectiveness of a she-wolf.

He should have known that what occurred yesterday wouldn’t stay secret between friends.

Not that he minded anyone knowing about his prowess—it was famed enough already—but he wasn’t so keen on people knowing that he’d dismissed Maddie.

If ye kenned how much I’d wanted to keep her in that room with me, and why I had to send her out, ye wouldnae look at me like that.

He swallowed his frustration and stepped out into the herb garden, closing the kitchen door behind him. But he wasn’t an idiot; he knew Grace would eavesdrop if he and Maddie remained close to the door.

“Walk with me,” he instructed, taking Maddie by the hand.

She offered no resistance as he led her up the stepping-stone path to the gate, and out into the wider expanse of the gardens. Across a spread of rain-muddied lawn, a structure that resembled a huge birdcage called to him, offering some shelter from the cold wind and drizzle.

“Is this supposed to be a metaphor?” Maddie asked, as he ushered her inside.

A circular iron bench hugged the shape of the structure, the chill of it sending a shock through his buttocks as he sat down.

Maddie moved to join him on the bench. A second before she sat down beside him, he grabbed the long length of his woolen kilt and pulled it across the cold iron. She’d had enough shocks for one morning without adding a frozen backside to the list.

“I mean to send an announcement today,” he began.

“News of our marriage. There’ll be letters sent to Horndean and to London, to yer parents.

Once they arrive, everyone will ken that ye’re mine now, and I willnae tolerate intervention from anyone.

Nay one will try to take yer life away from ye again, in any way. ”

Maddie peered up at him, adjusting her spectacles. “As part of our bargain?”

“Because ye’re me wife and me lady,” he replied.

A half-smile formed upon those bee-stung lips of hers. “Thank you.” She paused. “I feel as if I’m saying that a lot today.”

“I prefer hearin’ ye say ‘please’ but ‘thank ye’ will suffice for now.” He flashed her a sly smile, while she rolled her eyes. “I thought I might send a letter directly to yer sister’s household, too. Addressed to this Simon lad I’ve been hearin’ so much about.”

“Delivered by an assassin? No, thank you.” Maddie laughed, the tension in her shoulders relaxing. Yet, the amusement didn’t quite reach those astonishing eyes of hers.

He sniffed. “I wouldnae send an assassin, lass. What do ye take me for? I might use a few strong words, though. Those English gentlemen are made of such weak character that even that’d be enough to make him cower.”

Maddie shook her head, an amused sigh leaving her lips. “I can’t argue with that, though I’m not entirely certain I’ve studied enough of Scotsmen’s character to muster a comparison yet.”

I’ve wounded ye... He heard it in her voice, a remnant of yesterday.

He couldn’t explain the truth to her without scaring her or making her think that her current situation might take a turn, but perhaps he could soothe that injury a little bit.

“Well, let me tell ye somethin’ of what I’ve learned of English lasses. One, in particular.”

He tilted his head to one side, letting his gaze run across the fine figure of her.

“She’s a rare thing. She’s as beautiful as she is fierce, who speaks of things I dinnae understand yet I cannae help listenin’.

I could listen to her speak of rocks and I’d be as captivated as if she were reachin’ for me belt. ”

“You are impossible,” she mumbled, her cheeks flushing with pink as a secret smile fought its way onto her lips.

“I’m nay done,” he said. “She’s got passion aplenty, and there’s nay man in any country I ken of who wouldnae be grateful for just a look from her.

Any man would be lucky to have her, but they cannae, ‘cause she’s mine.

But, if I may, I’d like to ken what an idiot called Simon once did to her—nae so I can kill him, but so I can help heal the scars he inflicted. ”

Although I might hurt him a little.

Maddie looked away quickly. “It was nothing.”

“Dinnae do that, lass,” he murmured, reaching his hand up to her cheek, gently moving her head back so she had to look at him. “Dinnae diminish what has shaped ye, the good or the bad. And dinnae let him get away with it so easily.”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure she was going to speak again.

But then, with a breath, she began. “Simon was an idiot,” she muttered.

“He danced with me, called upon me, spoke with me for hours and hours over tea and cake, complimented me, kissed my hand, and made me feel like I was special. Did all the things one does in a courtship, or so I had read. Then, I came home one day to discover that he had turned his affections toward my sister instead. His reason boiled down to this: no man could ever be happy with someone like me.”

Her eyes closed, a wash of painful memory furrowing her brow, as if she was feeling the sting afresh.

I ought to break his teeth for darin’ to kiss her hand. Break ‘em twice for speakin’ to her like that.

Oscar would have been lying if he’d said it hadn’t boiled his blood to be told there was a suitor once.

In the breakfast hall, he’d barely restrained himself, needing to kiss away any memory she had of that coward.

Now that he’d heard more details, however, he wanted to kiss her for a different reason: to show her just how much passion she had in her, of every kind.

No man could be happy with someone like ye? Was the lad a bampot?

Then again, if Simon had seen the majesty of what was right in front of him, Maddie wouldn’t be Oscar’s wife. Perhaps, that idiot’s actions were something to be grateful for.

“Someone like ye?” he prompted.

“Someone so dull, so lacking in the ‘right’ sort of passion,” Maddie replied with a shrug, her eyes fluttering open again. “I knew of Horndean already, and had considered attending, but thought I would give society a try first.”

“Is that when ye went to the school?”

Maddie nodded. “I left the same night Simon chose my sister, and I have never regretted it. As I was just telling Grace, I should be grateful.”

“Ye need never be grateful to a fool like that. He said unkind things to ye because he could never handle yer fire. All that’s remarkable in ye made that weaklin’ feel inferior, so he sought to try and douse yer flame instead of findin’ out how good it feels to bask in yer blaze,” he told her softly.

At his side, Maddie’s breathing quickened. Gone was the glazed, faraway look, her eyes now sharp with her full attention. He watched her throat bob, smiling at the blush that colored her from her bosom to her cheeks. Indeed, he would have liked to find out how low the blush went.

“And you think you could handle my fire?” she said tightly.

He leaned back against the bench, sliding his arm behind her. “I’m nae afraid to burn, lass. Ye could scorch me, and I’d come back for more.”

He paused, brushing his fingertips against the nape of her neck, his stomach tightening as her eyes closed with quiet bliss.

What I dinnae ken is whether ye’d come back to me, once ye’ve been burned. He knew what he’d done to her now, heightening vulnerabilities he hadn’t known she had until this morning.

By sending her away from him, he’d clearly ignited old memories of that unworthy cretin, but the reasoning wasn’t the same. Simon had cast her aside because he was a worm, Oscar had dismissed her because he would consume her if he wasn’t careful. That was the peril of a wildfire meeting an inferno.