Page 25 of Marry the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #1)

CHAPTER 25

The first day after Laird Auchter’s death was busy enough that Conall could focus on matters other than his relationship with Brigid. With letters to write, papers to sign, and clan business to deal with, there was plenty to occupy his mind.

He and Oliver spoke that night, exchanging words, and sometimes shouting, over a bottle of spirits. Conall awoke on the second morning with a pounding head and a sour gut, but it was worth it to see the way Oliver smiled at him, ever so slightly, over the midday meal.

Brigid was absent from the table for every meal that was served. One of the scullery maids reported that she was having her meals sent up to her rooms and had refused to leave them, claiming she was unwell. Conall was tempted to go and knock on her door to be sure she was all right, but he restrained himself. He had promised, after all.

Instead, he sought out Emily and told her what the scullery maid had said. “Ye’ll make sure she’s hale?”

“Aye.” Emily nodded. “But I think yer lady is simply takin’ the time she needs to think and sort out her feelings. Best nae to rush her with that, Conall.”

“Even so…” Conall scowled down the hall. “I dinnae want her to be ill or injured, and unwilling to tell ye because of me.”

“Dinnae fret. I’ll make sure yer lady is well.” Emily patted him reassuringly on the arm, and Conall forced himself to accept her word and return to his business.

The following morning, one of the guards told him that Brigid had written to her sisters and sent the note with a messenger, who’d returned that morning. Conall took the report and sent the man on his way, hoping that whatever Brigid had written, and whatever her sisters might have written in reply, would be enough to bring her back to him.

The following day, he spent two hours pummeling a training dummy. Brigid was still hiding in her rooms, and he’d never wanted anything more than he wanted to pound his way through the door and demand to see her. Except, perhaps, for Devon to still be alive.

He saw Brigid briefly for the evening meal, when she finally appeared in the Great Hall, looking a little paler and thinner than the last time he’d seen her. Nevertheless, she seemed well. She refused to meet his eyes, however, or speak to him, and he forced himself to honor her decision and reminded himself of Emily’s advice to let her come to him in her own time.

She hadn’t left, that was the main thing. She was still here in MacKane Castle, even if she wasn’t speaking to him at the moment. She hadn’t made any requests or attempts to leave, and Conall clung to that knowledge, even if it was a cold comfort that left him aching inside.

Two days after Brigid’s appearance in the Great Hall, he received a letter from the Blackwood sisters.

Laird MacKane,

We have received the letters from you and your brother. We have also received a letter from our sister, Brigid, and spoken at length about the contents of both.

Your apologies are appreciated and accepted. Though Brigid may have little experience, we are aware of the sort of man our grandfather was. We can well believe he planned for us to be at odds with each other and with you. Laird Auchter has always hated our existence, which he saw as proof of his daughter’s disobedience.

As for Brigid, in her letter to us, she did not ask to come home, which surprised us.

It occurs to us, however, that you don’t know each other very well. Our sister has had some time to learn about you, about Laird MacKane and Conall Barr—yes, we know they’re different in many ways—but you’ve had little chance to know the woman who is Brigid Blackwood.

She is the youngest of our father’s precious treasures, and we all tried to shelter her from the harsher parts of our lives. Brigid is the warmth and sunshine in our family—she always has been. Even when our parents passed away, it was true.

She loves being around people. She always goes to town, though they’ve never been kind to her there. She wants so much to be loved, but so few give her a chance to show them what a treasure she is.

She loves good food and working in the kitchen, but she also loves flowers and wandering in the woods and the meadows. And she loves books and poetry more than anything else.

She’d never say much on the matter, but she loves to read and write and draw. She has journals full of her drawings and poems—even songs and stories she’s written. On winter nights, she would share them with us around the fire, ever since she was a wee bairn, before our parents passed away.

It will take some time for her to be willin’ to share them with you. But if you wish to find a way to talk to her without forcing her hand, show her that you know and appreciate the things she loves.

Give her time. Our mother’s final rules left a powerful mark on all of us. And Brigid is not used to the harsh ways the world can treat us, no matter how much her visits to the village used to hurt her.

We wish you the best and hope to hear from one or both of you soon.

Lily, Valerie, and Megan Blackwood

P.S. You’re welcome to come and visit us any time that suits you. Once you and Brigid have resolved your grievances, it is past time we had a proper discussion about whether the daughters of Magnus Blackwood will be joining Clan MacKane.

Conall read the letter several times. It was more than he’d expected to receive from the sisters, and it told him so much that he’d not known about Brigid.

His eyes drifted to one paragraph and lingered. She loved books, writing, poetry, and drawing.

Conall had nay idea where to get art supplies. He had some vague recollection that Emily used charcoal sticks for occasional notes on her remedies, but nothing beyond that. And even if he had known, he was well aware that Brigid had already gathered her own supplies that day in the market.

Books and poetry. His family had never been much inclined to collect things either, but his mother and grandmother had each gathered a few volumes. If he recalled correctly, his father had given his mother a book or two of poetry to while away the long winter nights.

Conall folded the letter and placed it carefully in his desk drawer. Then, he rose and made his way to the door of his study, his mind turning over possible locations of the books in question.

MacKane Castle had no formal space set aside for books, but there should be several chests of his parents’ belongings stored in one of the less-used rooms of the castle.

If he could find the book he sought, perhaps he would be able to do what Brigid’s sisters suggested and communicate with his wife in a way that wouldn’t break his promise.

Recording the events of the past fortnight took the better part of two days. Brigid filled most of her journal. Afterward, she felt better, though she was still not willing to face Conall.

She was no longer afraid of him, but so much time had passed that she had no idea how to even approach her husband. She missed his presence beside her fiercely, but she had no idea how to bridge the gap that had sprung up between them.

She spent the day after she finished writing working on the dresses she and Emily had begun sewing. That took two more days.

The day after that, however, finding she had run out of things to occupy herself with, Brigid finally left her rooms and went for a walk around the castle. Although she had been here for a while now, the place was so vast that she still didn’t know it very well, and while she was uncertain about how to approach Conall, she did know she intended to stay, so she may as well get used to finding her way around.

She was strolling through the gardens—a different section this time than the one she’d explored the night Conall had killed the guards—when Emily approached her, smiling kindly.

“Brigid,” she said in her gentle voice. “I heard ye werenae feelin’ well. Do ye need aught?”

Brigid swallowed a momentary feeling of apprehension. “Och, I’m well enough, Emily, and I thank ye for the offer, but there’s nothing I need. I simply…”

“Werenae feelin’ up to talkin’.”

Emily smiled knowingly and gave friend her a gentle embrace. “I ken how it is. I had some similar feelings, just after Devon died.”

Devon. The brother who had been killed by Laird Auchter’s men.

“I still dinnae ken much about that,” Brigid admitted with a frown. “Will ye tell me, Emily?”

“Nae much I can tell ye,” the other woman replied. “Laird Auchter took Devon as a captive. Conall and Oliver tried to save him, but one of Auchter’s men killed him during the fightin’.” Emily’s expression was sad. “Conall retreated into anger at everyone around him, with no exceptions. Oliver’s anger was focused on anyone connected to Clan Auchter—as I’m sure ye ken by now.”

Brigid nodded, though she couldn’t help the sadness that filled her. “I wish Oliver kenned I was never part of Clan Auchter,” she said quietly. “Laird Auchter disowned my mother before I was even born.”

To her surprise, Emily’s smile widened, and the healer hugged her close. “Och, Oliver kens well enough that ye’re nae part of Clan Auchter. He and Conall have been talkin’, and I think he understands matters better now.”

“Ye think so?” Brigid wanted to believe this was true, but it was hard to imagine Oliver ever letting go of the hatred he’d harbored toward her from the moment he arrived.

“I do. Like as nae, he’ll avoid ye for a while out of embarrassment, because he doesnae ken how to repair what his foolishness has done. But he is sorry, and, sooner or later, I’m sure he’ll tell ye that himself.”

Brigid nodded. “I’m nae sure I ken how to mend my own foolishness,” she admitted. “I ken I care for Conall, but…”

“Ye’ll find a way.” Emily tightened her grip once more and then released her. “I have faith in yer ability to find a way to my brother-in-law, and in his ability to find a way to ye. Ye’re both too strong to let a sorrow like this stand between ye for long.”

The words fell like stones in a still pond, and with them, something settled inside Brigid. An understanding, and a truth that she’d struggled to reach for days now.

She loved Conall. She trusted him with her life, and she loved him. Emily was right. She couldn’t bear to let anything separate her permanently from the man she’d married. She loved him too much to let that happen.

She’d fought to love him, held by her mother’s final words and the promise she’d made. But now she remembered what else her mother had told her.

“Dinnae ever lose that smile, that bright and loving nature of yers, my sweet daughter.”

If she left Conall, she would lose her smile. And much of what she loved would go along with it. She would always feel the aching emptiness of loss, but if she left this place she’d come to consider home and the man she’d grown to love…

She returned Emily’s embrace with a tight hug of her own. “Ye’re right.” She stepped back. “And now, if ye’ll excuse me, Emily, I have things I need to take care of.”

She turned and hurried back into the castle, toward her rooms, intent on finding some way to apologize to Conall. Instead, she found herself stopping and staring at her bed.

There was a book there—a book she knew wasn’t hers. And on top of it was a note, written in a hand she was fairly certain she recognized.

She picked up the book first and opened it. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it was full of poems—a book of poetry, and one she’d never had a chance to read before.

She turned her attention to the note. It was short, but the words went straight to her heart and melted the ice of every uncertainty she’d battled over the past seven days.

My Beloved,

I promised I would not approach you until you sought me out, and I meant it. However, I miss you, and I did not wish you to think that I had forgotten the vows I made to you.

Your sisters told me you love poetry. This book was my mother’s, long ago. She would be glad to know that it is in the hands of someone who can love it as she did.

Conall.

Brigid read the note twice, tears filling her eyes as she did so. Then, she folded it carefully and slipped it between the pages of the book of poetry.

He cared for her. Even after everything, he had made an effort to make sure she knew that he still wanted her here, that he was waiting for her to come to him.

Brigid turned and began to rifle through her journals. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to show him her feelings in return, and now that the fog that had filled her mind for so long had finally cleared, she knew exactly how to do it.

Her hand found the correct journal, and her fingers leafed through the pages until she reached the entry she wanted.

Page marked, Brigid hurried out of the room, intent on finding Conall as soon as possible.