Page 46 of Kilgannon #1

It took a long time to quiet the boys. I could not answer their questions and settled for soothing them with caresses and soft words while my anger grew.

By the time the people returned and Alex came to us, I was furious and turned my head away when he spoke.

He ignored me then and lifted his sons, bearing them away from me while I watched.

I sought refuge in our bedroom, but my anger only grew when I was alone.

I had married a stranger. And now, unbidden, Robert’s words came to me: He lives a life you cannot imagine, full of violence and ancient ways.

He’s not an Englishman and not your sort.

Robert, I thought, you did not tell me the half of it. What was I doing here among such people? I closed my eyes and let my longing for London grow.

After an hour I realized I could not stay in our room, could not sleep in the same bed with Alex, could not bear to have him touch me.

I took my nightrobe and a candle into Margaret’s room, closing the door that led to our room firmly behind me.

And bolted it along with the door that led to the hallway.

I had meant to have the poster bed that filled half the room removed, for no one slept here, but I was glad of it as I slid between the sheets with a sob.

How can I stay here?! wondered. My marriage is a sham.

All the things that I’d heard of the barbaric Scots came to me now, and I hugged my misery to myself. I wanted to go home.

I drifted off to sleep and woke with a start when I heard Alex in our room.

At first he moved quietly, as though I’d been asleep in there, and then he called for me.

And again. And tried the door to Margaret’s room.

There was silence, then he tried the latch again and called my name, shaking the door.

I turned on my side and hunched the covers to my ears, telling myself he’d go away. I was wrong.

With a splintering crash the door flew open, and I sat up. The bed-curtains blocked my view but only for a moment. With a swift movement Alex pushed the curtain aside at the foot of the bed and glared at me. “Maty, what are ye doing here?”

“I’m going to sleep here tonight, Alex,” I said coldly.

“The hell ye are,” he growled, and moved to the side of the bed. I had no time to react or even to think as he thrust the curtains aside and reached for me, half-dragging me to my feet in front of him. “I’ve had all I can take today, Mary. Come on.”

I wrenched my arm from his grasp and backed away from him. “I’mnot going there,” I said, raising my chin. “Not tonight.”

He watched me with narrowed eyes and tightened jaw. “Fine,” he said at last. “Then we’ll sleep here.”

“No,” I said. “I need time to think. I need time alone.”

“Lass, it was no’ pleasant for any of us.”

I shook my head. “No, Alex. I’ll stay here. Alone.”

“Ye dinna want to sleep with me?”

“No.”

“Why not?” he asked quietly, then louder. “Why not, Mary?”

“I don’t know who you are!”

“That’s stupid, Mary. Of course ye ken who I am.” I shook my head. “Mary, ye ken who I am.”

“No. I don’t know who you are and I don’t know why I’m here.”

With a curse and grunt he reached for me and lifted me into his arms. “Yer coming with me, lass. Yer my wife, and we’ll sleep now and sort it out tomorrow. Yer just upset, is all.”

I writhed in his grasp but could not free myself as he carried me through the door and set me gently on our bed.

I scrambled to my knees and glared at him, then watched in amazement as he ignored me and calmly began to undress.

When he stood only in his shirt I climbed off the other side of the bed and stormed toward Margaret’s room.

He was at the door before me, no longer calm.

“Ye’ll sleep with me, Mary,” he said. I shook my head. “Enough!” he shouted, towering over me. “Enough, Mary. Get into bed. I canna deal with any more tonight.”

“Oh, yes, Alex, you must be exhausted. It’s so tiring to kill a man.” He watched me with a cold expression. “Could you not have spared him? He was only a boy. Surely you could have found another way to punish him. How could you do that and not have it affect you? What are you made of?”

“We held a trial. ”

made an angry gesture. “A trial, Alex? That was hardly a trial. It was a mockery.”

“It was justice,” he said, his voice rising now in anger.

“It was like no justice that I’ve ever seen.”

“Then what was it, Mary? What would ye call it?”

“A mockery.”

“Ye ken not what yer talking about.”

“Then explain it, Alex. Explain it so it makes sense to me. What I saw was a clan lusting for a boy’s death.”

“A boy—“he spluttered. “A boy. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, lass, ye ken naught of it. Dinna preach to me.”

“Anyone who questions you is preaching to you?”

“Ye ken naught of it.”

“Then explain it, Alex. Tell me.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand your ways. They seem very foreign to me.”

“Foreign,” he said quietly. “Barbaric, ye mean.”

I met his eyes. “Yes. Foreign. Barbaric. Savage. What I saw was bloodlust, Alex. For stealing cattle. Cows.”

“Cattle are—”

“Oh, yes,” I interrupted. “Angus told me. Cattle are currency. Surely you don’t equate cattle and a boy’s life.”

“In this case I do.”

“Then I don’t know who you are. Or what you are. And you had your sons watch. A glorious lesson for them, Alex. At their tender ages they saw their father condemn a man and then they got to watch at close range while he died. What a wonderful lesson. I don’t know who you are.”

“Ye dinna ken who I am,” he said flatly. “I’ll tell ye then. A barbarian, Mary. The leader of a bloodthirsty tribe. I’m a savage Gael. Or is that redundant? Do ye want to go back to yer own people, is that it? Do ye wish ye’d not come here?”

“I don’t understand, Alex. You all seem so—”

“Aye. Barbaric. Savage. Perhaps not quite human.”

“Don’t mock me, Alex.”

“Ye call me a barbarian and a savage, and I’m mocking ye?” We glared at each other, then he turned away. He went to his side of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head, then climbed naked between the sheets while I watched. “Come to bed, Mary,” he said quietly as he arranged the covers.

“No.”

He sat up and met my look. “Mary Rose,” he said. “Get into this bed. If ye go into the other room I’ll just come and get ye again. Get into bed.”

“Alex,” I began, but his voice cut across mine.

“No more tonight, lass.” He turned slowly and blew out the bedside candle. “Come, Mary. Get into bed,” he said to the dark.

I did. But I refused his touch when he reached for me and ignored his gentle caress as he traced his fingers down my neck and across my shoulder, then down my side, pausing at my waist before withdrawing.

I lay stiffly next to him, making speeches in my head that only increased when at last I heard his rhythmic breathing and realized he was asleep.

How could he sleep after having hanged a man today?

I stared into the dark and thought about London.

I was still awake when the window lightened and the first of the morning slowly lit the room.

Stretching my legs from their cramped position, I crept silently from bed and into Margaret’s room, where I dressed hastily.

I stood in the doorway, watching him sleep, before I left.

How could anyone who looked so angelic be so callous, I wondered.

Who had I married? I was still asking myself the same questions when I woke the stableboy and asked him to saddle my mare and later when I turned her head to the south and away from Kilgannon.

The abandoned crofthouse I’d noted on our rounds was just where I’d remembered, its roofless walls gray against the blue sea beyond it.

I tethered the horse, then stood on the edge of the cliff and tried to let the sea breeze heal me.

And later, when the rain came and the wind lashed at us, I moved the mare into the only remaining outbuilding while we took shelter from the storm.

When the sky cleared in the late afternoon, I brought her out into the weak sunshine and let her forage while I sat on a large boulder and stared out at the sea.

Did I want to end this marriage, to return to London and rebuild my life there?

To slink back into the company of the Mayfair Bartletts and Rowena with a failed marriage behind me?

To take the charity of my brother and aunt for the rest of my life?

No, but I did not have to do that. I could withdraw to a small cottage somewhere in the country and live on the meager income I received from the Mountgarden rents.

I could start another life. It was possible.

I took a deep breath. But none of that was the real issue, the real reason to stay or go.

If I left I’d never see Alex again. Is that what I wanted?

I turned at the noise, not realizing what it was at first, and saw a horse and rider silhouetted against the horizon. As the big man thundered toward me I rose from the boulder and turned to meet him. Alex drew up sharply in the yard and looked me up and down.

“Mary,” he said.

“Alex,” I said, matching his wintry tone.

With a graceful swing of his leg that bared his thigh and more, he slid off the horse and stood in front of me. “Yer a’ right.”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go home.” He reached for me, but I backed away, watching as his eyes flickered with anger. Obviously his fury with me was damped, not gone. Nor mine with him.

“No,” I said.

“No?”

“No, Alex, I will not go with you. Not now.”

“Yer my wife, Mary. Let’s go home.” I shook my head. He walked away from me, then turned with an angry gesture. “How could ye do that, Mary? How could ye steal away from our bed and leave me? I’ve half the clan looking for ye. I thought ye were in the castle and avoiding me.”

“Then how did you know I was gone?”