Page 12 of Bound to a Scot (Sins in a Kilt #2)
CHAPTER TWELVE
I n the days that followed their unexpected meeting in the garden grounds, Emmeline had been careful about where she went, doing everything in her power to avoid Maddox. He seemed to contrive reasons to “run into her,” usually when she was by herself, which sent her scurrying away. She was hurting his feelings and felt bad about it, but she knew it was too dangerous for them to be alone together. Not because Burchard would have them killed if he thought her fidelity in question, but because even knowing that, her feelings wanted to lead her down that path.
She would never admit to anybody, but Maddox held her in a certain thrall. He had a magnetic pull that drew her to him that she felt almost powerless to resist when she found herself near to him, so she’d done all she could to minimize contact. To eliminate it. Maddox’s pull was increasingly hard to break and the only way to keep from being drawn in was to stay away. It was necessary for both of their sakes, but she was having trouble with it still.
Emmeline knew it was wrong. Not only was she married, but Maddox was set to wed as well. It troubled her that he was to wed Cecilia, but she had no say in that. But what troubled her more was the sheer jealousy that coursed through her veins at the thought of Cecilia being with the man she was so drawn to. The worst bit about it was she knew Maddox was just as drawn to her. It was like she was starving and having her favorite honeycakes put in front of her then being told she was not allowed to touch them.
Emmeline shook her head. “Get yer head on straight, lass. These bleedin’ thoughts dinnae help ye at all.”
Her stomach churned and she felt like she would be sick as she trudged down the corridor. Burchard had insisted on her presence for the evening meal. She’d tried to beg off, telling him it had already been a long day, and she was exhausted. Which it had, and she was. Burchard wouldn’t hear of it though, telling Emmeline that her absence at their meals was making him look bad in front of Maddox and that he would not abide that. If there was one thing Burchard hated, it was looking weak in front of others.
One of Burchard's men opened the door to the dining hall for her and Emmeline walked in. She gave Cecilia a smile but felt her stomach lurch when Maddox turned to her. Her throat grew dry as he held her gaze and she had to force herself to tear her eyes away from him.
“Ye’re late,” Macfie said coldly.
It hit Emmeline in that moment that the table had already been laid and they were eating. Seeing the food on the table and breathing in the aromas that saturated the air made Emmeline’s stomach rumble, reminding her that she’d been so busy, she hadn’t had time to eat much of anything. She gave Burchard a polite nod.
“Apologies, me laird. I’ve been?—”
“I dinnae want tae hear yer excuses, woman. Sit down.”
Emmeline’s face flushed with embarrassment, and she turned away from him, walking around the table to her seat. She sat down without another word and started to load her plate. She caught Maddox’s eye, and he didn’t look pleased. His jaw was clenched, and he wore a sour expression. Fearful he was going to say something, which would undoubtedly make the situation worse, she gave him a subtle shake of the head, silently telling him to hold his tongue. He did, wisely stuffing a piece of meat into his mouth to keep from speaking.
As hungry as she was, Emmeline only picked at her food. Having Burchard’s hostile eyes on her was souring her appetite. The dining hall was silent, and the air was filled with tension so thick, it seemed to have a physical weight. Cecilia’s eyes were downcast and she too, seemed to be pushing her food around her plate. She couldn’t help but notice that Maddox was stealing gazes at her whenever Burchard was turned away. It was about the most uncomfortable dinner party she had ever attended.
“Emmeline, did ye finish sewing the veil for Cecilia’s wedding dress?” Burchard asked, his voice as loud as a cannon, shattering the silence.
“Nae yet, me laird?—”
“I asked ye tae dae that days ago.”
“I have been assistin’ Shona with some of the people who fell ill, me laird?—”
“Did I ask ye tae assist the bleedin’ healer?”
Emmeline lowered her gaze. “Nay, me laird. But many children have fallen ill and she was overwhelmed?—”
“Are ye the bleedin’ healer? It is yer job tae help with the sick?”
Her heart thundered in her breast as anger flowed through her veins. As much as she wanted to let it all out and scream at Burchard for his callousness, she held her tongue. The retribution of speaking up for herself, most especially in front of Maddox, and making him lose face would be as swift as it was severe. Her wine cup trembled in her hand as she raised it and took a quick drink, hiding her face, which was warm and red, behind the rim.
“I can confirm her account, Laird Macfie,” Maddox said. “It seemed a number of people, many of them children, have fallen ill?—”
“Thank ye, Laird MacLachlan. But if it’s all the same tae ye, I’ll keep me own counsel within the walls of me keep,” Burchard snapped.
“Of course, I was merely sayin’ yer healer was burdened today. Adair and meself even pitched in tae help yer healer.”
Burchard popped a piece of meat into his mouth and chewed slowly, his eyes narrowed, his expression dark as he glared at Maddox. She was grateful that he had stepped in and was trying to bear the brunt of Burchard’s wrath alone and take the man’s fury off her, but when his gaze shifted and he glared at Emmeline, her heart caught in her throat. He was displeased both with her and with Maddox inserting himself into the situation and knew she would be punished. He washed his bite down with a long swallow of wine then turned to Maddox, his face lightening slightly.
“And I thank ye fer yer help, as does Shona, I’m sure,” Burchard said, his voice as cold and hard as his eyes. “But as I said, I’ll tend tae matters within me own keep.”
“Of course, Laird Macfie,” Maddox said. “I meant nay disrespect. I only wanted tae help.”
Burchard said nothing. Instead, he turned his head and focused the dark cloud of anger in his face toward Emmeline. She quickly lowered her gaze once more. She knew this wasn’t about the veil as no wedding date had yet been set. As far as she knew Burchard and Maddox were still negotiating the details of their alliance. She thought perhaps Maddox was still trying to find a way to seal it without marrying Cecilia.
No. His anger had nothing to do with the veil.
This was about Burchard being upset about something else and having no other outlet than her. This was about him flexing his power and dominance in front of Maddox. He wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding that he was the master of this keep. Emmeline had been married to the man long enough to know not just his moods, but how important appearances were to him. Not that it upset and frustrated her any less.
“Emmeline, I want ye to leave this hall and go finish Cecilia’s wedding veil,” he said, his voice colder than a Highland winter.
“Laird Macfie, surely that can wait until she’s had a proper meal,” Maddox interjected.
Burchard’s jaw clenched as he turned his frosty gaze to Maddox. “It’d be best fer all involved if ye stayed out of this, Laird MacLachlan.”
“Faither, I can help Emmeline once we’ve eaten,” Cecilia offered.
“Ye should stay out of this too, Cecilia. I didnae ask fer yer opinion.”
Before either of them could say anything else and dig the hole for them all even deeper, Emmeline got to her feet and walked briskly from the dining hall. Removing herself from the situation seemed to be in the best interest of everybody. Emmeline made her way through the castle and into her bedchamber, slamming the door behind her.
She threw herself down on the bed and pressed her face into a pillow then let out a howl of rage. Emmeline felt completely powerless, and it seemed the only thing she was able to do.