Page 35

The sun was just rising. The crimson colors upon the horizon were breathtaking as they seemingly infused themselves into the startling sapphire of the morning sky.

Its grandeur was only second to the magnificent peaks of the Highlands as they cradled its splendor lovingly.

The sight in the distance was exquisite.

Or at least it would have been considered this way if the one gazing upon its radiance had truly comprehended with seeing eyes.

Slowly, Gwyn drew in her breath understanding that a new fear now plagued her heart.

The laird appeared to be dying. It was with a grave sadness she conceded that it was only she, who was to blame.

Had she not incited his anger…had she not fallen asleep…

had she not loved where she had no right.

The pain she felt upon her body was nothing compared to the anguish she felt upon her heart for the anger she had ignited within this very room.

As Gwyn stood before the window with her back to the chamber, she heard footsteps behind her. She did not turn, could not acknowledge the one who approached. She did not wish to be seen nor expose the deep shame she now profoundly held inside of her heart.

Iver woke in the early morn to a heavy pounding upon his door. When he opened it, it was Donnan who stood with fear reflected copiously upon his face.

"Is it true, Iver?"

"What true? I have been sleeping and was just awakened by you. I have no idea as to what you are asking and clearly know less than you."

"The laird. Everyone is saying he is near dead. Some have even said they heard angry voices beforehand."

A fear like no other burst within Iver's body as he choked out his words.

"Oh my dear God, Gwyn-"

With all that had transpired over the last weeks, Donnan dared not be anywhere near the laird's room nor seen with Iver so he instead moved discreetly down the stairs and out of the keep.

Conversely, Iver cared little for the inner workings of decorum and instantly made his way down the long hallway.

He went directly to Gwyn's chamber since he had to know if she was safe.

He did not knock. Instead, Iver tried the handle tentatively and when it freely moved within his hand, he entered cautiously.

As he peered inside, he noticed her instantly standing across the chamber.

He released the air that he had unknowingly been holding within his chest. After he silently closed the door in his wake, he quietly moved across the floor to stand directly behind her.

"Gwyn?"

Had it been only a few hours earlier or even the previous day, Gwyn would have felt pure elation for hearing her name so breathlessly released from his lips.

Back then and prior to this very early morn, the simple sound of his voice had inspired so many sweet emotions.

It was hard to believe that instead when she heard his words, she was greeted with a void and nothingness upon her heart.

That is what she now felt for all she had caused and what had subsequently transpired.

Gwyn also knew Iver would not leave her side until she spoke to him. She was also so very fearful of his reactions when he gazed upon her for the first time. However, she had no choice. With a resolute sigh and ever so slowly, she turned her tearful eyes and her bruised body to face him.

When Gwyn did not immediately turn when he approached, Iver knew something was terribly wrong.

Then, when she did not instantly acknowledge him as he spoke her name, he almost cringed in his misery.

That was nothing compared to the rage he felt when she turned to him and he gazed upon her for the first time.

"Holy, Christ! What has he done to you?"

Both of her eyes were blackened and one of them was nearly swollen shut.

The bruise that was high upon her cheek was bright purple and the blood above her lip had long since dried.

He could see from where he stood the cut stretched into an awkward line from her nose to only disappear at the corner of her mouth.

That inspired nothing compared to the heavy impression of the fingerprints upon her neck.

The sight of that was nearly his undoing and a rage unlike any other he had ever known built profoundly within his chest.

Iver moved forward to take Gwyn within his arms only wishing to comfort her and take away her obvious pain.

When she brought her hands to his chest and firmly pushed him away from her, he felt the pain intensely.

It was as if the life had been taken from him and a sword pressed keenly through his heart.

It was all his fault and he knew without a doubt the secret of their love had hurt her dreadfully.

"Please, Iver, you must not touch me."

Neither spoke for long moments before Gwyn continued with her words.

"It is the laird. He has fallen ill. The healer and Philomena are with him now."

"Gwyn, what happened to you?"

He tried to move near and again, she pushed him away. Gwyn knew it was painful to do so, but she could not shame her husband further. Not even now and after all he had done. She knew he had been within his rights.

As she looked into Iver's eyes, she understood completely she had hurt him with her actions. Nevertheless, she could not help herself knowing what was to be her duty to her laird.

"Please talk to me, Gwyn."

It was in that moment of silence when Philomena entered the room through the doorway separating their two chambers.

Hearing her approach, Gwyn immediately stepped back and further away from Iver.

Her movements were obvious to both of them as she stared forward with fear laced heavily within her eyes.

Slowly, Philomena approached as she spoke in a near whisper.

"I am relieved both of you are here. There is so much I must relay to you. It is important to me that you understand. Even though I have no right to ask this of you, more than anything I beg of you to listen to my words and do not speak until I have finished."

Gwyn looked up at the woman quizzically, not quite understanding of anything she said.

This was more than she had ever spoken to her, ever.

When she watched the woman who had shared the bed with her own husband and many years of his life, she looked as if she had aged immensely. And she appeared so very stricken.

"Please, you must forgive the laird for he did not mean to do what he has done!"

There was a pleading within her voice that was unmistakable. When Iver looked glaringly at Gwyn, it was clear Philomena's words had now confirmed her fate. He swallowed uncomfortably as he attempted to control his anger. When neither Iver nor Gwyn could respond, she continued.

"There is so much you do not understand and you need to know.

Errol…I mean the Laird Chattan, was so angry when you came here those many years ago, my lady.

You were a constant reminder to him of all he had lost. No.

I must begin much earlier so you will completely understand the whole of his story. "

Philomena took a deep breath before she continued.

"Several years before you arrived and when he was a much younger man, the laird had been gravely injured upon the battlefield and nearly lost his life. Your father, the Laird MacLaren, risked his own life and saved him and brought him home to me. But his injuries were so very grave."

At this, Philomena closed her eyes as if fighting the horrific memories and searching for the strength to continue.

Gwyn moved to her side and touched her arm, squeezing gently to let her know she was there with her support.

At her touch, Philomena's eyes flew wide as she first stared down at the hand holding her.

Then, she softened as she brought her gaze up to Gwyn's.

She smiled desolately as she continued to speak into the silent morn.

"He never wanted anyone to know and I share this only with you so you will understand the depth of his pain. On that day upon the battlefield, the one who nearly robbed him of his life, stole his very being. The fiend caused such grave injury the laird could no longer prove to be a man."

A vision flashed through Gwyn's mind of that first night she was here and what she had seen.

Or what she thought she had witnessed as the two of them were in bed together.

She could only feel the grave sadness for she had a small understanding of what that could do to a man.

She also now understood why he had never come to her to consummate their marriage.

As the agony of this knowledge pressed heavily upon her heart, Gwyn now had an understanding of what her presence and that of Durell had done to him.

Sadly, she watched as a tear was released from the corner of Philomena's eye.

"You, my dear, were a constant reminder of all he had lost. You also must understand he would never tell you of his pain throughout all these many years. He would die before he would do that since his pride runs very deep."

Gwyn had a question upon her mind and spoke quietly.

"Why had the laird not married you? If he had done so, my father never could have sent me to him."

"He would never marry me for the shame. I know he loves me, but he did not want anyone to know he was no longer a man.

He also cared too much for he would not allow anyone to blame me for my inability to gain him a son.

So when you came, you were a constant reminder to both of us of all we had lost and of the lives we never could have.

And when you brought back your son…that was almost too much for him to bear. "

As Gwyn moved her arms to bring Philomena into a warm embrace, she nearly cringed knowing the grief she felt and for all the agony she had unknowingly inflicted.

The knowledge of what she had done to the Laird Errol so many years ago, was painful.

But it was the guilt of what Gwyn had done recently that was unforgivable.