Page 6 of Tender is the Heart (The MacCallens and Randalls #2)

Chapter Six

F or the next four days, Margaret stayed in her room, refusing to come out for any reason.

Oh, Aiden tried his best to cajole her out of her somber mood, with words of encouragement. Showing more patience than he would with anyone else, he decided that pushing her wouldn’t work. It only angered her and made her more sullen.

He had spoken with Flossie and Lizabet not long after Margaret had. They had filled him in on everything that was said betwixt the three of them. What bothered him most was what she had said about being unlovable.

Truly, she couldn’t mean that, could she?

Thankfully, no one, especially Flossie, balked at the idea of taking meals to her room. Trays were left in the hall because she wouldn’t open her door to anyone.

With the belief that mayhap she only needed time to adjust to this new life, he let her be. Knowing how she felt about sharing a bedchamber with him, he had slept in the men’s solar. This time, he made no effort to hide the fact. And no one, not even his usually crass and unruly brothers, made any comment.

On the morning of the fourth day, he decided to seek the counsel of his eldest brother, Brodie. Even though Brodie was still in deep mourning over the loss of his wife, Leah, three weeks prior, Aiden valued his opinion above all others.

As he headed down the hallway, he met Symon, Brodie’s eight-year-old son, running along with his cousins.

“Is yer father still in his room?” Aiden asked.

“Aye, he still has nae left,” Symon replied as he ran passed.

Of course he hadn’t. I have two verra sad people in my keep, he mused. And I dinnae like it. Nae one bit.

Gently, he tapped on Brodie’s door and waited patiently for a response. When none came, he knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Come in, Aiden,” came Brodie’s voice from the other side.

The only light in Brodie’s room came from the low-burning fire in his hearth. There was no need to light any candles, unless Symon or someone else came in, for Brodie was completely blind. An illness and raging fevers had taken his sight when he was only four years old.

His brother was sitting in a high-backed chair near the hearth, with his chin resting on his fingers. “If ye have come for marital advice, I fear I cannae give it to ye,” Brodie said, his deep voice naught more than a whisper. “I fear I have never been married to a wife long enough to gain much experience, save for burying them.”

Brodie’s disquiet and sadness stung at Aiden’s heart. The poor man had been married twice now and had lost both wives in childbirth, along with two sons.

Aiden pulled a stool from the little table in the corner of the room and sat in front of his brother. ’Twas like looking in a mirror. When they were growing up, they were often mistaken for twins, even though Brodie was older by three years. The spitting image of their father, he possessed the same dark-brown hair and even darker-brown eyes.

He took in a deep breath through his nostrils and let it out slowly. Aye, he needed his brother’s advice and wasn’t quite certain how to broach the subject, given Brodie’s current state.

“I hear yer wife is quite beautiful,” Brodie said, “but that her beauty does nae extend much beyond her skin.”

“I am certain that is nae true,” Aiden replied. “She simply needs time to adjust to her new home.”

Brodie chuckled slightly. “Like Isobelle did?”

Aiden couldn’t truly deny it. “Aye, but I dinnae believe Margaret is quite so mean as Isobelle was.”

“That is nae what I hear,” he replied drolly.

“For someone who has nae left his chamber in more than a fortnight, ye seem to possess a good deal of knowledge.”

A wry smile formed on Brodie’s lips. “I would like to say I have spies, but the truth is far less exciting: My meals are brought to my room by very talkative kitchen maids.”

Aiden chuckled as he scratched his chin. “Dinnae believe everythin’ ye hear, brother.”

Brodie shrugged his comment away. “As long as ye remember that there is oft a bit of truth to every rumor. Dinnae ignore them.”

He took in another deep breath. “There is something about my wife that I cannae quite figure out,” he told him.

“Her demanding and harsh disposition? Her need to demand respect instead of earning it?”

Aiden cut him off. “I believe she simply does nay ken any better.”

Another dismissive shrug from his older brother. “Mayhap. Either way, what do ye plan to do about it?”

Aiden let out a heavy sigh. “That is why I am here, Brodie. To seek your advice and counsel.”

’Twas Brodie’s turn to sigh. “Brother, I already told ye. I cannae give ye any advice on your marriage.”

Aiden didn’t believe him. “I ken ye are mournin’, brother.”

Brodie grunted his frustration. “My grief has nothin’ to do with it, Aiden.”

Confused, Aiden asked, “Then, why cannae ye help me?”

Brodie sighed, his disapproval of his younger brother’s denseness readily apparent. “I have nae yet met yer wife, Aiden. How on earth can ye ask me for help when I dinnae ken the lass?”

Aiden supposed that made sense. “Be that as it may, can ye give me somethn ’ to work with? An idea, at least, on what I should do about this woman?”

Brodie smiled rather deviously. “Have ye tried to romance her?”

Aiden couldn’t help but to laugh at the suggestion. “She would rather scratch my eyes out than to get near me, brother. I fear she hates me with a zealousness that one usually reserves for one’s enemies.”

“Are ye certain ’tis hatred and nae fear?”

He scoffed at the idea. “I have given her nothin’ to fear. I have tried everythin’ I can think of to be kind to her.”

Brodie twisted his lips as he thought for a long moment. “All I can tell ye, brother, is to keep showin’ her patience and kindness. Mayhap she just needs time to settle in. We are, after all, a rather large brood, aye?”

He supposed he was correct in that regard. “I dinnae, Brodie. Right now, I fear she will despise me for the rest of my life.”

“Dinnae give up hope yet, brother. After all, it has only been a few days, aye?”

“True,” he replied dryly.

Brodie chuckled heartily for a long moment. “I suppose ye expected the lass to simply swoon at yer feet like most lasses do?”

’Twas a gross over exaggeration, of course. Lasses didn’t truly swoon at his feet. Aye, a few might have been a little doe-eyed, batting their lashes, hoping for his attention. Fewer still ever offered to warm his bed.

He was by no means inexperienced with the fairer sex. But neither was he a mongrel.

“Still, it would be nice if she dinnae hate me so passionately.”

“I dinnae think she hates ye, Aiden. I think she is simply afraid.”

Aiden hoped his brother was right. He could prove to a terrified woman that he was not a monster and that she had nothing to be afraid of when it came to him.

A wife who hated him, however... Aye, that was a battle he had no desire to fight.

It was a crisp and sunny winter morn. As she stood at the window in her bedchamber, Margaret was glad to see that the sun was beginning to melt the snow. She could see droplets of the melting stuff dripping from the eaves as well as from the trees that lined the road just outside of the keep walls.

What snow remained on the ground had also begun to disappear wherever the sunlight struck. In the shadows, however, the white stuff still clung to the ground or wherever it had landed yesterday.

She breathed in the crisp air, hoping against hope that it would somehow magically make her feel better. After a few deep breaths, she did feel slightly more awake, but her heart still felt heavy with dread and worry.

How many days had she kept to her chamber? Three? Four? More? Somewhere along the line, she had lost all track of time. She had been so lost in her own worries, fears, thoughts, and memories, that she paid no attention to anything else.

She definitely was not used to laying or sitting about all the day long. Her legs and back ached, right along with her head.

For years, she had dreamed of being left alone with her own thoughts, to enjoy some peace and quiet and to be out from under her mother’s heavy thumb.

The first day or two of being alone and away from her mother had seemed heaven sent. She was very nearly giddy being left alone. But as the days wore on, the silence in her chamber had begun to grate on her nerves.

On this bright morn, she began to long for something. Just what that something was, she couldn’t figure out. Whatever it was, it seemed it was just a hair’s breadth away. Within her reach, but she was unable to grasp it; ’twas like trying to grab a handful of morning fog.

Oh, she knew she didn’t want to be around any of Aiden’s family, least of all Lizabet. She wasn’t ready yet to have any further conversations with the young woman. Neither did she have any desire to see the cook.

But the last person she wanted to see was Aiden.

He had come close to getting through the stone walls of her heart when he had come to see her, days ago. His kind words, his encouragement, the tenderness and warmth in the soft timbre of his voice, they were difficult to resist.

Yet, she did. She simply couldn’t soften her hardened heart. Not to anyone, no matter how kind they might be.

’Twas her dark, ugly secret that kept her terrified and angry most of the time. The secret kept her from making friends or allowing anyone to be the least bit kind to her.

That, and all the rules her mother had pounded into her mind over the years. Be strong. Never let them see ye cry. Dinnae show kindness to anyone. Kindness is a weakness. Once people see ye are kind, they will walk all over ye. And on and on and on.

The combination of the two was enough to drive her to the edge of madness. More that once, especially in the last year or so, she had been tempted to jump off the proverbial edge and embrace the darkness of madness. And, more than once, she had contemplated taking her own life, just to be free of it all. The secret. Her mother. All of it.

When she could take no more of the silence, and when pacing back and forth in the small room had lost its appeal, she threw all caution to the wind. She donned her fur-lined boots, gloves, and cloak, and quit her bedchamber in a rush.

Thankfully, no one had caught sight of her in the hallway or as she made her way down the stairs. Nay, she didn’t want to speak to anyone or explain what she was doing. She simply needed to be out of doors and away from the haunting memories.

Her excitement was short lived, when she encountered a young chambermaid stepping from the vestibule into the grand gathering room.

They nearly collided with one another.

“Och! M’lady!” The young woman exclaimed as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I thought ye were Milo!”

Margaret couldn’t resist the urge to ask who Milo was.

The young woman’s reply took up the next quarter hour of Margaret’s time.

The western courtyard was still cast in the shadows of the keep, the air cold and damp. The still-frozen snow crunched under Margaret’s boots, a slight disturbance to the quiet, peaceful area. She made her way to the east side of the keep, where the sun was much brighter and the air far warmer.

The sun had done a good job of melting the snow, but it left puddles scattered about the smaller courtyard. Careful to avoid getting her boots and skirts wet, she tiptoed around the puddles as she lifted her skirts ever so slightly.

Soon, she stood in the full light of the sun. A slight breeze tickled her skin and rustled the leafless trees across the muddy yard. Closing her eyes, she took in a lungful of the fresh air and basked in the sunshine.

Her spirits were slowly being lifted, and she no longer felt quite as melancholy as earlier. However, this peaceful and serene respite was cut short. In her mind, she could hear her mother’s voice once again: “Do nae stay too long in the sun! ’ Twill give ye dark spots and freckles, and no man wants a woman with dark spots and freckles.”

Margaret took in a deep breath of air and let it out slowly. Will I ever be free from my mother? Will her words ever cease to be at the forefront of my mind?

Suddenly, she began to feel sad and hopeless again. How can I escape her?

The answer came to her at once. I need to be busy. Mayhap, if I keep myself busy, I will nae have time to think about her.

Thus far, hiding away in her bedchamber hadn’t done her any good. Mayhap walking around the keep and getting a look at the space might fill her mind with something other than her mother’s voice.

A quick scan of her surroundings revealed the stables, smaller barns, and what appeared to be the laundry. The stables were closest, and with a slight skip to her heart, she decided to go there first. Hopefully, 'twould be empty, save for the horses.

Aiden didn’t feel much more hopeful after leaving his brother to his broken heart. Mayhap ’twas best to try to talk to his wife again. Deciding it certainly couldn’t make things any worse, he headed for their chamber.

Standing outside the bedchamber, he rapped a knuckle against the heavy wood. Patiently, he waited for her reply. When his knock went unanswered, he tried again, a little louder this time.

Once again, his knock was met with silence.

Concern began to fill his mind when his third knock went unanswered. Aye, she could be napping, but she could also have fallen ill or tripped and injured herself. A dozen different possibilities raced through his mind. Throwing up the latch, he stepped inside.

The room was even darker than Brodie’s. The only light inside streamed in through the open window on the opposite side of the room and the from where he stood in the doorway.

Wanting to ensure that she was all right, he did a very quick inspection of the chamber. He even went so far as to look under the bed.

She simply wasn’t here.

He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or begin to worry. Not a man who easily worried or jumped to conclusions, he decided to go look for her.

It would take Aiden several hours before he finally found his wife.

During his search, he learned some very interesting facts about Margaret MacCallen. For instance, when he asked one of the younger housemaids, Leah, if she had seen his wife, her face lit up like the morning sun.

“Aye, Aiden, I have. Such a lovely wife ye have, if it is okay for me to say such.”

He found her comment bewildering. Thus far, all he had heard from his own family and Flossie was that his wife was a selfish, uncaring shrew. Flossie was convinced that Margaret didn’t possess a heart or a soul.

“And what makes ye say such, Lela?”

A blush crept up from her neck then onto her cheeks. There was a twinkle in the lass’s eyes, one that hadn’t been seen since her father’s passing.

“We almost ran into one another in the passage above stairs,” she said. “I was tryin’ to hide from young Milo, ye ken.”

Ah. Young Milo. His reputation with the lasses was nearly legendary. The poor young man tried a little too hard to impress the opposite sex. An awkward and at times annoying lad, most of the lasses simply didn’t care for him. “Aye, I see.”

“Well, Lady Margaret asked me why I was runnin’ down the corridor. I told her about Milo and how he had been after me for weeks, beggin’ for a kiss.” She came close to giggling. “I told her how annoyin’ he was and how I had absolutely no wish to kiss him. I want my first kiss to be special, ye ken?”

Of course ye do, he mused with a smile. “And what, pray tell, did my wife say to that?”

He didn’t think it possible for the young lass to smile more brightly, but she did just that. “Well, first she said, 'Of course he wants a kiss. He is an ignorant lad, and ye are a beautiful lass. Ye must have all sorts of lads chasin’ ye, wantin’ a kiss.'”

To say Aiden was surprised that his wife had complimented anyone, let alone a servant, would have been an understatement. He hid his surprise behind a smile and a nod.

“Then she told me she would have a talk with young Milo,” she replied with a giggle. “She kept her word, she did. Nay more than a half an hour later, young Milo was apologizin’ and beggin’ me to forgive him. And he promised he would never ask me for a kiss, ever again.”

“Are ye sure ’twas my wife ye were talkin’ to?” The question was out before he realized it.

Lela tilted her head, puzzled by his question. “Of course I am, Aiden!” She laughed then, thinking perhaps he was simply jesting with her. “Ye daft man.” She giggled as she shook her head. “Unless there be some other new, beautiful woman with brown hair and big blue eyes, who is named Lady Margaret, in our keep.”

Aiden chuckled and shook his head. “I was simply jesting, lass.”

With a shrug of her shoulders, she said, “Is there anythin’ else ye need?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Do ye have any idea where my wife went after speakin’ with ye?”

“She asked me where the stables were, so I told her. I do believe that is where she ran into Young Milo.”

Panic pulled at his gut. The stables? The only reason he could think of for his wife to go to the stables was so that she might ‘borrow’ a horse and leave to somehow find her way back to the MacCallens. “Thank ye, lass,” he said with a nod. He spun on his heels and quit the keep.

He didn’t bother to grab his cloak on his way out the door. With panic and anger roiling in his gut, he didn’t need anything else to keep him warm. By the time he reached the stables, he had riled himself up enough to bite nails.

Fergus, their stable master, greeted him at the door, with a broad smile. “Och! Aiden, how are ye, lad?” Fergus was as old as dirt. A tall, slender fellow, with hair as white as new snow. Even at his old age, he was still as strong as an ox. “I bet ye are mighty glad to have such a beautiful woman as yer wife, aye?” He wiggled his eyebrows and chuckled.

Aidan wasn’t certain yet if he should be relieved to hear his kind remarks or if he should be calling for a search party. Common sense took over. “Aye, she is a beautiful woman. Do ye ken where she might be?”

“I never met a lass who knew almost as much about fine horseflesh as myself,” he replied with a shake of his head. “She is as smart as she is beautiful.”

Growing impatient, Aiden asked once again if he knew where she had gone.

“Ye seem worried, lad,” Fergus pointed out. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

Aiden didn’t wish to worry anyone, least of all Fergus. “Nay, I am simply tryin’ to find my wife.”

A wide smile spread across his face, showing straight, white teeth, and a mischievous twinkle lit in his eyes. He elbowed Aiden in the ribs. “I bet ye do!” He chuckled again. “A beautiful lass, that one. Did I tell ye she is almost as knowledgeable about horses as I?”

“Yes, ye did mention that,” Aiden said. “Did she by chance leave on horseback?”

“Who?” Fergus asked, looking frightfully confused.

Through gritted teeth, Aiden said, “My wife.”

“Lady Margaret?” Fergus shook his head and looked at Aiden as though the question itself was absurd. “Now, do ye really think I would allow that sweet, lovely wife of yers to leave here without ye or an escort?”

A tic was beginning to form in Aiden’s left eye. “Of course nay, Fergus.”

He took a long moment to scrutinize his laird before he said anything else. “She was here for nearly an hour. Gave each of the horses a rub and a kiss, as if they were her own babes. I never seen the like before, lad. She even had Diablo eatin’ out of the palm of her hands.”

“Ye let her get near Diablo?” Aiden was furious.

“Well, it ain’t like I let her go into the stall with him,” Fergus said. “I am nae that daft, and ye ken it.”

Aiden took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Of course nae, Fergus.”

“And I am insulted that ye’d even think such a thing.”

“Fergus, I am simply worried about my wife. I dinnae intend to insult ye.”

Fergus took a brief moment to think on it. “Yer wife is a fine, kind, carin’ lass, Aiden. Strong, too. In here.” He tapped a long, gnarled fingertip to his chest. “Where it counts.”

How is it that this auld man kens more about my wife than I do? He was growing as puzzled as he was irritated.

“She went to see the coos,” Fergus told him. Wounded pride still lingered in the tone of his voice. “I will send word to her as soon as the pups are ready. It will be a month or two.”

“Pups?” Aiden was beginning to wonder if the old man wasn’t losing control of his faculties.

“Aye,” Fergus replied as he turned and walked towards the tac room. Sheer curiosity made Aidan follow behind the old man.

“Loved on those pups for quite a time, she did,” he said, giving a nod towards the basket near the brazier. Inside was a beautiful Irish Wolfhound named Maggie. Suckling at her teats were four tiny pups whose eyes weren’t even open yet.

“No one told me she had another litter,” Aiden said as he smiled down at the tiny pups.

“Three days ago,” Fergus said. “And I promised yer wife the pick of the litter.”

Aiden resisted the urge to argue that the old man should have sought out his permission first. His keep was already bursting at the seams. One could barely turn around without tripping over someone else. Adding a puppy to the situation would increase the chaos that already existed.

He had already wounded the man’s pride twice. To turn down his gift of a pup would probably infuriate the old man.

“Thank ye, Fergus, for your kind generosity. I shall give my wife your message.”

“A fine lass, she is, Aiden. A fine lass, indeed.”

After speaking with Fergus, he crossed the courtyard and headed towards their large livestock barn. During the winter months, the cattle, goats, and chickens used to provide for those who lived within the keep were kept warm and safe from the elements, within the confines of the large building.

He caught a glimpse of small boot prints in the muddy snow. Honestly, they could have belonged to anyone, but he felt certain these were left by his wife.

He yanked the side door open and stepped inside. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. The smell of animals, fresh hay, and rushes filled the space. Chickens clucked quietly in the loft above, while their six coos and several goats had free rein of the space.

“Ronald?” Aiden called out, seeking the young man who was in charge of caring for the animals.

“Aye?” Ronald shouted from the loft above a moment before he peeped over the railing. His long red hair hung loose, almost making it impossible to see his face.

“Have ye seen my wife?” Aiden called up to him.

Ronald smiled brightly as he nodded. “Aye! A bonny woman she is, if it is all right to say such, Aiden.”

Another compliment about his wife. Why is it she shows the bonny, kind side of her to these people and nae to me?

’Twas a mystery, indeed.