Page 32 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)
“ A nd that is why some apples are sour, even if you grow them from the seeds of a sweet apple tree,” Maddie said flatly, her own disinterest reflected by ten pairs of eyes. “Does anyone have any questions?”
None of the girls raised their hands. Indeed, at least two seemed to be fast asleep, their heads resting on their crossed arms. It had been a week since her return, and it was proving difficult to adapt back to who she’d been before.
Prior to setting off to try and infiltrate St. Andrews and Edinburgh University, this room would have been filled with eager faces, at least half the group’s hands shooting up when she asked if they had any questions.
The youngest class of Horndean girls had gushed about how much they adored her lessons once, but those days seemed to belong to a different life.
Now, Maddie just bored them.
“Well then, why don’t we call that the end of the lesson,” she said, closing the book she’d been reading from. “Go outside, pick an apple, see if it’s sweet or sour.”
I don’t care.
The girls couldn’t escape the room faster, exploding into loud chatter as they streamed out into the hallway. In the ensuing silence, Maddie wandered to her desk and sat down, hunching over to hold her head in her hands.
Somehow, she had to muster the enthusiasm for Mr. Fallow’s visit in an hour.
It was the first time she would be seeing him since everything that had transpired at Castle Muir a week ago, and she wasn’t the least bit excited.
The gift had gone rotten. After all, part of the initial thrill had been knowing that she could tell Oscar all about her lessons when she was done, savoring the joy of having someone listen intently to every word.
Lilian would, of course, listen eagerly, but it wasn’t quite the same.
As if summoned, Lilian poked her head around the doorway, smiling her wonderfully bright smile.
“I thought you might be hungry,” she said, producing a picnic basket.
“Shall we eat here or outside? It is not a terrible day for luncheon in the garden, though it might be a touch cold. Nothing cloaks and blankets cannot solve.”
With her huge, hopeful blue eyes, there was little chance of saying no to Lilian. Yet, Maddie had as much interest in the idea of luncheon as she did in teaching the girls about apples.
“I thought I might catch up on some reading for when Mr. Fallow arrives,” Maddie said.
Lilian’s face fell for a moment, before she visibly rallied, stepping into the room with purpose. “Well... I can just keep you company. I am not leaving you alone, Maddie.”
“Even if I ask very nicely?” Maddie mustered a faint chuckle.
“Even then.” Lilian smiled sadly, dragging a chair over to Maddie’s desk. “I know your heart is broken, dearest Maddie, and I know you feel like there is nothing to be happy about... but I have strawberry tarts. Do not ask where I got them when it is entirely the wrong season; it is a secret.”
She plucked one from the basket and pushed it shyly across the desk. The golden pastry and vibrant red fruits managed to make Maddie’s mouth water a tiny bit, knowing they were from the bakery that the three friends had visited so often.
I wish nothing had ever changed. I wish we were still at school here, in those happiest of days.
“Thank you,” Maddie said quietly. “Thank you for your patience. I know I’m being a terrible grump, and I’m sorry that I’ve been such a poor friend this past week. Just know, even when I am at my most sullen, I still utterly adore you.”
It hadn’t helped her mood that there had been a letter waiting for her when she’d returned to Horndean, from her father, telling her what a disgrace she was.
A bucketful of salt in a raw wound, reminding her not of how she’d disappointed her parents, but of how she had nothing to show for the marriage that had displeased them so.
Lilian brightened, her plump cheeks flushed with a cheery pink.
“You can be as grumpy as you please, as long as you are not alone. Heaven knows you deserve to be cross, but I just want you to know that I am here, always.” She pushed the tart closer to Maddie.
“Even if that is just to remind you to eat.”
Relenting, Maddie picked up the tart and took a bite, the sugary strawberry and buttery pastry melting on her tongue. “I hate him,” she said, swallowing. “Yet, I keep wishing I could see him and speak to him. Is that mad?”
“Not mad at all,” Lilian replied, taking out her own tart. “Perfectly reasonable, considering he is your husband, and you rather liked him, in the end.”
Maddie laughed tightly. “I didn’t think he would send Mr. Fallow here to teach me still.
But I find that I hate him even more for being so.
.. thoughtful, keeping his promise from a distance.
I want to knock his head against something hard, to see if it can nudge some sense into him, but, at the same time, I want to. .. hold him.”
“You could try it,” Lilian said, smiling. “We could go back to Castle Muir together with a length of wood, perhaps, and smack him in the head when he is not looking.”
A more genuine chuckle escaped Maddie’s throat.
“The trouble is, he has an exceptionally thick skull. That is why I haven’t been able to get through to him with my words.
” She paused. “I keep scribbling down ideas for an experiment that might show him how wrong he is about himself. To see them, you’d think they were the writings of a lunatic. ”
“If he did come to his senses, would you forgive him?” Lilian asked, brushing a crumb delicately from her lips. Ever the aristocratic daughter, despite the fact she had been sent to a school for wayward and hopeless girls.
Maddie sank back in her chair, chewing in thought. It was the same question she’d been asking herself since she got back, particularly when she heard carriage wheels on the driveway, her heart leaping at the thought that it might be him.
It never was.
“I don’t know,” she replied at last. “It would depend on?—”
“Madeleine, there you are,” another cheery voice interrupted, belonging to Thalia Sutton. “There is a man waiting for you in the parlor.”
Maddie nodded. “Thank you, Miss Sutton.”
“How many times must I tell you girls to call me ‘Thalia’? You are not students anymore; you are my associates,” Thalia said, shaking her head in amusement. “Now, hurry along, Madeleine. You should not keep him waiting.”
Shoving the rest of the strawberry tart into her mouth, Maddie rushed to chew and swallow, flashing a nervous smile at Lilian. “Well, it seems my tutor is early. I’ll come and find you afterward.”
“I look forward to hearing all about it,” Lilian said, gesturing for her friend to go, wearing a look of such encouragement that, for a moment, Maddie felt a little of her enthusiasm returning.
Cleaning the remnants of the delicious tart from her teeth with her tongue, Maddie raced along the corridors of the Horndean School for Ladies, grateful that the majority of the girls were still in their lessons.
Outside the parlor door, she took a moment to catch her breath, adjust her spectacles, and make sure she had no crumbs on her trews or shirt. Satisfied that she looked more scholarly than slovenly, she knocked and entered.
But it wasn’t Mr. Fallow standing there by the window, awaiting his student. No, this man was much taller, with dark brown hair and the most beautiful gray eyes, so handsome that even his scars were enticing.
“Oscar...” she gasped, for though he’d been haunting her dreams, she’d never thought she would see him in the flesh again.
Maddie wore the scars of wounds that Oscar had inflicted. His heart ached at the sight of tired eyes and a dimmed shine. He’d sent her away so that her light would never be diminished, yet it seemed it had dwindled down because of him anyway, almost to the wick.
Even so, she remained the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Hauntingly beautiful in her obvious sadness. Her face harboring the sort of exquisite melancholy that painters would give their lives to immortalize.
“What are you doing here?” she rasped, her eyes hardening.
Oscar turned away from the window, approaching her slowly, so as not to spook her. “I came to tell ye what a fool I’ve been.”
“Now, tell me something I don’t know,” she replied, no warmth softening her face. “You shouldn’t be here, Oscar. You’re not welcome.”
He nodded. “Aye, that Miss Sutton said ye might say that. She said if ye asked, she’d have me booted out an’ all. But I want ye to give me one more moment of yer time. If, by the end, ye dinnae want me here, I’ll leave without a boot-print on me backside.”
He saw the conflict play out upon her face, in the narrowing of her eyes behind her spectacles, in the twitch of her bee-stung lips, in the tension that tightened her jaw. Her hands flexed, curling in and out of fists, her head shaking slightly as if she were in conversation with someone invisible.
“You have two minutes,” she said at last, her tone laced with frost.
She walked toward the small clock on the ornate mantelpiece, a fire crackling in the grate, and tapped it pointedly.
Without delay, he began. “Hunter said somethin’ to me on the day ye departed.
Somethin’ about earlier signs that me faither wasnae a good man.
I couldnae get the thought of it out of me head, so I spoke at length with Betty-Ann.
” He cleared his dry throat. “Accordin’ to her, me faither was cruel, long before he met me maither, long before he had sons.
Small cruelties that could be mistaken for a Laird just exercisin’ his authority. ”
Maddie nodded slowly, waiting for him to continue.