Page 8 of Tender is the Heart (The MacCallens and Randalls #2)

Chapter Eight

I n her heart, Margaret knew she’d made a horrible mistake. She’d not only angered Aiden, she had hurt him deeply.

The man was doing nothing more than being his true self: kind and genuinely concerned for her safety and well-being. What intelligent woman would not want those traits in her husband? She felt ten kinds a fool the moment he left, slamming the door in his wake.

’Twas simply all too confusing. She was unaccustomed to anyone showing her a grain of kindness. A big, loving, boisterous family? Nay, she had never experienced such a thing. Aye, she had prayed for a large, loving family, but to actually have one now was a strange new experience.

For an hour after he left, she lay on her bed and cried. She cried until her cheeks burned and she had naught left but weak sobs. Her chest felt as though a boulder was set upon it, making it difficult to breathe.

Hundreds of confusing thoughts and emotions bombarded her mind as well as her heart. Piercing like flaming arrows, tearing through the tiny holes in her heart.

How many times, after her father’s death, had she wished to be free? Free from the guilt, the fear, the constant and ever-present sense of despair?

Oh, how quickly her life had changed after his untimely death. Gone were her carefree days of childhood. There were no more sweet dreams at night. No more laughter, good times, or good memories to be made.

Nay. Everything had changed when he died.

’Twasn’t until she was older that she realized she had been thrown into the depths of hell. A hell that she could not escape. A hell created solely by her mother.

And her own actions.

’Twas all her own doing. She had no one to blame but herself.

How could she have done something so wicked and cruel and foolish? And how could she have done it without remembering?

Of course, her mother had an explanation. She always had an explanation. A way of explaining things that, while not feeling quite right , had a way of making sense.

“Ye are an evil lass,” her mother had told her. “Of course ye dinnae remember. ’Tis the devil within ye, Margaret, that hides ye from the truth.”

As a girl of only three and ten, her mother’s words had made sense. But what came after never really made sense to her. And the more evil deeds she did, the more easily they seemed to do.

But all the while, deep down, she knew what she was doing was wrong. Unjust. Not right.

’Twas only the fear of one of her mother’s relentless beatings that kept her from defying one of her orders.

That sense of fear always made her feel weak and unworthy. Margaret hated herself for it.

’Twas a vicious circle. Doing whatever her mother told her to do, no matter how cruel that action might be. Doing her bidding without openly questioning anything or asking why.

Every misdeed, every act of cruelty, always left her feeling ugly and evil. But do them she did.

Margaret was close to falling asleep out of the sheer exhaustion of too many tears and too much thinking, when someone knocked at her door. ’Twas probably Aiden coming to apologize again or to check on her.

She didn’t deserve his kindness or his thoughtfulness. Not his or anyone else’s. So she chose to feign sleep and ignore the knocking.

After the third knock, she heard the gentle voice of a young woman. A voice she didn’t recognize over the sound of blood rushing in her ears.

The sound of the door opening made her panic all the more. Truly, she didn’t wish to speak to anyone. Nay, she was praying for the sweat release of death, to free her from the agony that was her life.

“Margaret? ’Tis me, Annabella.”

The sound of her voice made her heart crack all the more. Earlier, Margaret had felt on top of the world, determined to help the young woman. She had actually felt a keen sense of hope. Hope that her life was changing and for the better.

But now, all that hope was gone. Ground into tiny bits of dust and shattered dreams.

The door closed, bringing a sense of relief to Margaret. That relief, however, was short lived when she heard the soft footfalls crossing the floor. Moments later, Annabella sat on the edge of the bed.

“I heard the argument ye had with Aiden. I wanted to make certain ye were all right.”

Margaret sniffed softly. “Please, Annabella, I wish to be alone.”

“Ye helped me earlier,” she pointed out. “I only wish to return yer kindness.”

“What kindness?” She hoped Annabella would catch the sarcasm in her tone.

“Earlier, in my bedchamber, silly. Ye made me feel far less afraid or ignorant. ’Twas a kindness I shall never forget.”

“If ye only knew the truth about me,” Margaret muttered against her pillow. “Ye would nae think me so kind.”

Nonplussed, Annabella said, “But I do ken the truth about ye. Ye are my newest sister. That is all that matters.”

Margaret was about to hurl a hateful, biting remark her way when someone else knocked at the door. “Lord, above! I wish ye all would leave me be,” she muttered.

“Annabella? Are ye in there?” ’Twas a male voice booming through the closed door.

Annabella got to her feet slowly. “Aye, Thomas. I will be out shortly.”

She turned back to Margaret. “I ken ye are hurtin’. But everythin’ will work out as it is supposed to.”

Margaret humphed a gruff reply. The naive lass.

“I shall see you in the morn. Please, be patient with Aiden. He has never been a husband before.”

Margaret rolled her eyes in disgust. That is what he said earlier.

The door opened and shut once again. The sounds of muffled voices disappeared down the hallway.

Alone now, she was left to wallow in her own sense of pity, regret, guilt, and anger. ’Twas all building into a rather large knot in the pit of her stomach.

She was lost. Lost in a dark ocean of feelings she didn’t want to feel anymore. Drowning in a whirlpool she was quite certain she could never escape.

Margaret cried herself to sleep with the sensation she was floating all alone in that dark ocean. Wave after wave of frigid water crashed over her heart and her mind.

Will I ever be free?

In secret, three of the older Randall women met. Long after the midnight hour, they gathered in the kitchens with Flossie, whilst the rest of the inhabitants of the keep were fast asleep.

’Twas warm and cozy here, with Flossie serving them hot cider and warm bread. They huddled around the small table, speaking in hushed, conspiratorial whispers.

The topic of their conversation was one Margaret MacCallen . More specifically, how they were going handle the woman.

“I still say we send her back,” Flossie said as she stoked the fire in the hearth. “Let the Randalls deal with her sour disposition.”

Elayne laughed at Flossie’s stubbornness. “Ye ken we cannae do that, Flossie.”

“I have tried to explain to ye why she is the way she is,” Lizabet added. “’Tis nae her fault.”

“Bah!” Flossie exclaimed as she returned to her seat at the table. “She is a woman full grown, Lizabet. ’Tis too late to save her from herself.”

Lizabet wouldn’t back down. “Flossie, really! Can ye nae see that, with a little kindness?—”

“Kindness? Bah!” Flossie said. “What she needs is a good floggin’.”

“Unfortunately, we’re nae at sea,” Elayne added with a smile and a wink towards Lizabet.

“Floggin’. Arse whoopin’. Whatever ye want to call it. That girl needs a good skelpin’.”

’Twas then that Annabella started to cry. “Oh, Flossie! How can ye be so cruel?”

Flossie, having a soft spot for the young Annabella, immediately took back what she said. “There, there, lass,” she soothed as she patted her hand. “There will nae be any beatin’s. I am only frustrated right now.”

“She was so nice to me yesterday!” Annabella exclaimed. “And from what Thomas tells me, she was nice to everyone.”

“If I dinnae ken any better,” Elayne said drolly, “I would swear Aiden is married to two entirely different women.”

Lizabet snorted on her warm cider and began to cough. Flossie pounded her on the back as she handed her a drying cloth. As soon as she got her coughing under control, she said, “Really, Elayne! You say the strangest things at times!”

Elayne quirked a brow as if to say, “Mayhap. Mayhap not.” But everyone at the table knew what Lizabet said was nothing but the truth. Elayne had a quick, razor sharp wit about her. More often than not, she could have people laughing to the point of tears.

“I tell ye true,” Annabella said. “Margaret is a sweet woman. And I happen to like her a great deal.”

All eyes turned to look at the young woman for a long moment. ’Twas Flossie who finally asked what they’d all been thinking. “And why is it ye are so fond of her?”

Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. A telltale sign that she was harboring some kind of secret. “I was havin’ a verra bad day, ye ken. Margaret simply listened to me and made me feel better.”

“Listened to ye say what?” Lizabet asked.

“It matters nae,” Annabella said dismissively.

They were all silent for a long moment. Finally, Lizabet said, “So, what are we to do? None of us wants Aiden stuck with a terrified wife.”

“More like a terrifyin’ wife, if ye ask me,” Flossie proffered under her breath.

Lizabet ignored her. “I think we must do something to make the lass feel loved and safe. We must give her time to grow accustomed to all of us.”

“Like a fungus,” Elayne said, “We have a way of growing on people.”

They all had a good laugh at her comment. “I suggest,” Elayne began once they got their laughter under control, “that we kill her?—”

No one gave her an opportunity to explain herself. The women erupted into rather loud protests. “Ye cannae mean that!” Annabella cried.

“I may dislike the lass,” Flossie said, “but not enough to kill her!”

Elayne called for quiet in order to explain. “I say we kill her with kindness, ye eejits.”

The women sighed in relief as clarity dawned. “So, what ye are sayin’ is that we will be kind no matter how mean she is?” ’Twas Flossie who asked that question.

“Aye,” Elayne replied. “If what Lizabet tells us is true, then no one has ever shown the lass a bit of kindness in her life.”

Flossie shook her head as she pursed her lips. “Is it any wonder? The lass makes it nigh on impossible to be kind to her.”

“Might I remind ye that ye felt the same way about Clair?” Lizabet said with a raised brow. “And ’twas ye who ended up lovin’ her most.”

Flossie scoffed and looked away.

Everyone at the table knew Lizabet was speaking the truth. Clair had been a most difficult woman to get along with, at least in the beginning. But, in the end, she turned out to be one of the kindest women any of them had ever known.

“So, we are agreed, then?” Elayne asked as she gave a quick glance at each of the women.

They all nodded their agreement, even Flossie, albeit rather reluctantly.

“Good,” Elayne said as she pushed herself away from the table. “’Tis settled. We are going to kill Margaret Randall with all the kindness we can muster.”

Lizabet shook her head in dismay as she, too, got to her feet. “I really wish ye would nae say it like that, Elayne. Ye make it sound so… ugly.”

Annabella voiced her agreement. “Aye, find a better way to say it, please?”

Elayne gave a quick shake of her head. “What would ye suggest I say? We are attempting to get rid of the nasty side of her, are we nae?”

“Yes,” Annabella agreed. “But instead of sayin’ we are goin’ to kill her, can we nae say, we are goin’ to change her?”

“And if that does nae work,” Flossie said with a smile and a waggle of her brows, “ then we will kill her.”

As he’d been doing since his wedding night, Aiden slept in the men’s solar that night. Thankfully, his younger brothers took heed of his glowers and countenance and, intelligently, didn’t so much as bid him a good sleep. They left him alone, he supposed, for their own safety.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The blessing of a good night’s sleep had been as evasive as peace with his enemies. Undoubtedly, he hadn’t had a good night’s rest since he was a small boy. He was only three when she passed, and all he could remember of her was her brilliant blue eyes and her smile. Nothing else but a sense of longing and sadness.

His life changed irrevocably at the ripe old age of four when Brodie nearly died from a fever. Aiden could remember worrying incessantly about losing someone else he had loved dearly.

Thankfully, Brodie had lived. But the fevers had taken his eyesight. Not long after that, Aiden’s father came to him about Brodie losing his vision. He also informed young Aiden that he would someday be chief of their clan. A blind chief was out of the question.

Tossing and turning, his thoughts changing from the past to the present, he finally gave up. Dawn had yet to arrive when he tossed the fur aside and crawled out of the pallet.

Mayhap, if I keep myself busy enough, I will nae have to think.

With the decision made, he quietly slipped into a clean tunic and trews, slipped on his fur-lined boots, and made his way out of the solar. Below stairs, he made his way to the kitchens in search of fresh water to wash the sleep from his eyes.

At this hour, the kitchens were still dark; no fires burned in the hearths, and no candles or torches lit the room. In the darkness, he went to search for a candle to light. He stubbed his foot on a stool and ended up falling across the table. Cursing aloud, pushed himself to his feet, glad that no one was here to see his struggle.

With his hands, he searched the contents of the table until he found what he was looking for. Grabbing the candle, he sat it upright with one hand as he searched the contents of his pouch with the other. Soon, he had the candle lit. ’Twas still difficult to find his way around the large room. But, soon, he found a bucket of water near the hearth.

’Twas all but frozen solid.

Chipping away at the surface with a heavy pick, he soon made his way to the center of the bucket. The water was cold as ice. After finding a drying cloth, he dipped it into the center, cursing under his breath when the freezing cold water hit his fingertips.

“Were I able to sleep in my own bed…” he gritted his teeth as he wrung out the cloth. He had to work quickly before the linen froze solid.

’Twas like a hundred tiny needles stinging at his face. He sucked in a deep breath and soldiered on.

“Quit yer complainin’,” he said into the darkness. “Ye have been through far worse than this.” Yer da would be ashamed of ye, could he see ye now.

After chastising himself for complaining over the cold water and not being able to sleep in his own bed, he grabbed the candle and left the kitchens.

Frustrated for a whole host of reasons, he went back inside the keep. He blew out the candle, placed it on the dais, and went to pull on his cloak and gloves. Moments later, he was out of doors, in search of something to occupy his time.

Fitful sleep and haunting nightmares did little to lift Margaret’s spirits the next morn. She awoke feeling just as forlorn and exhausted as she had the night before. Groggy and sore from too much crying, she closed her eyes tightly in the hopes of drifting off to sleep again.

“Do ye think sleep solves yer problems?”

She replied aloud to the sound of her mother’s voice echoing in her mind. “Nay, Mum.”

“Then, get out of bed and wash yer face. I dinnae want anyone to ken my daughter is so weak!”

Her mother always worried over what other people might think of her. Oh, she said she didn’t, but Margaret knew the truth.

Helen wanted everyone to fear her. She truly believed that was the only way to gain anyone’s respect. To show anyone even a grain of kindness was akin to being weak. Kindness meant weakness. Weakness meant you were at risk of not being feared or respected.

Begrudgingly, Margaret tossed the furs aside and sat on the edge of her bed. There were naught but low-burning embers in the hearth. It wasn't enough to ward off the chill in the air.

She wiped the sleep from her eyes, grabbed her fur-lined robe from the end of her bed, and slipped into it. After sliding her feet into her fur-lined slippers, she set about stoking the fire back to life and adding another log to it.

’Twas going to be one of those days. She could feel it in her bones. Another day where she felt ill at ease and constantly on guard to protect herself. To prove to everyone around her that she was in charge. To prove to them she was not weak and to demand the respect her station deserved.

Yet, somehow, she didn’t have the heart or the energy to do it.

She didn’t want to prove anything to anyone. All she wanted was to be left alone, to hide away from this new life she’d been thrust into.

But what she wanted most of all was to be free of her mother’s voice that had apparently taken up residence inside her mind. Mayhap, if she could escape that, she could escape everything else.

With a heavy sigh, she made her way to the washbasin. Overnight, the water had frozen solid. She took the bowl and sat in on the hearth. While the ice melted she headed to the small window across the room and pulled back the fur.

’Twas going to be another gloomy day, with the sky promising more snow. Frigid wind whipped through the window. The cold air felt good against her skin. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep breath of the fresh, cold air and held it in before letting it out slowly.

Her stomach growled. Lord, she had no desire to go below stairs to sup with Aiden’s family. Hopefully, Aiden would continue to have her meals brought to her for the foreseeable future. Mayhap for the next ten years or so.

A soft knock at her door drew her back to the present. “Enter,” she called out, not moving away from the window.

The door opened, and Lela stepped inside, carrying a tray, the contents covered with linen. “Good mornin’, m’lady,” Lila said as she shut the door with one foot. “Flossie sends her apologies for your mornin’ meal,” she said as she placed the tray on the small table. “The larders are gettin’ barer and barer by the day.”

Margaret stepped to the table and gently lifted the cloth. On the tray was a bowl of porridge, one warm chunk of brown bread, and one hard boiled egg.

Curiously, she glanced at Lila, hoping for an explanation.

“We are on rations until the weather clears,” Lila said. “We cannae get through the southern pass just yet, due to all the snow. But Aiden says they will go just as soon as it is safe to do so.”

“The Southern Pass?” she asked with a raised brow.

Lila nodded her head and happily explained. “The Southern Pass is how we get to the MacCallen border. Now that we have peace with them, we can make our way more easily into Glen Killen, for flour and the like.”

The MacCallen border. Just hearing the name was enough to send her heart racing with sorrow, guilt, and dread. The pangs she felt in her stomach were naught more than fear.

“Och!” Lila exclaimed as she reached into the small pouch at her waist. “I almost forgot to give this to ye!”

She retrieved a small folded bit of parchment from the pouch and handed it to Margaret.

Margaret was afraid to take it until Lila told her it was from Onnleigh. Fear was immediately replaced with profound confusion.

“Why on earth would she be writin’ to me?” she asked rhetorically.

“I dinnae ken,” Lila said cheerfully. “Mayhap ye will learn the reason if ye read it.”

Oh, child, Margaret thought. Ye have no earthly idea as to why I am so afraid of a bit of parchment.

Upon realizing Margaret was not going to willingly take the parchment, she finally pushed it into Margaret’s hand, closing her fingers around it.

Her hunger pains were now gone. In their place was a large knot of worry, fear, and apprehension. A hundred questions bombarded her mind as she closed her fingers around the letter more tightly.

“Flossie says the answer is always ’nay’ until ye ask the question,” she said with a wink and a smile.

“What on earth does that even mean?” Margaret asked, drawing her gaze from the letter in her hand to Lila.

Lila sighed heavily, but continued to smile. “It means, ye will nay ken what is in the letter until ye open it.”

While that was true, Margaret was still terrified as to what the letter might contain. Had Onnleigh somehow learned about her dark secret? Was she now going to threaten Margaret with that knowledge to get her to do whatever she might ask?

“Margaret, are ye well?” Lila asked most concernedly.

“Aye,” she whispered, her gaze once again frozen on the parchment in her hand.

“Would ye like me to read it to ye?”

Margaret gave a quick shake of her head. “Nay,” she murmured as she tried to gain some semblance of control. She didn’t want Lila to think she had lost her mind. “I shall read it while I break my fast,” she quickly added, forcing a smile to her lips.

Lila continued to look concerned, but decided it might be best to simply leave Margaret alone. “I shall return shortly for yer tray,” she said, bobbing a curtsey. “Now, eat yer porridge. ’Tis good for ye.”

Margaret kept her calm facade until Lila closed the door behind her. As soon as the latch clicked, she let out a deep, ragged breath and nearly fell to the floor.

Slowly, she sat in the chair as she continued to clutch Onnleigh’s letter.

She kens, she thought frantically. She kens my secret. I just know she does!

“I wonder what she wants?” she whispered to the cold air. She means to destroy me, that is what she wants. And who could blame her for wanting revenge. Ye were so verra cruel to her. Cruel beyond measure.

The porridge had gone cold as she sat staring at the letter, her mind racing with all the possibilities it might contain. She had nothing to give Onnleigh. Connor had seized any bit of coin she had saved up over the years as part of her punishment. She had been allowed to leave their keep with only her trunks of clothes and personal belongings.

What on earth could I give her? I have nothin ’ left.

Her frantic musings were interrupted when Aiden knocked on the door and called out to her. The sound of his knuckles against the wood and his muffled voice through the door had startled her. She jumped to her feet so quickly the chair tumbled over behind her, startling her even more.

Aiden entered the room as she was trying to set the chair upright.

“Are ye well, lass?” he asked as he reached the table in quick strides.

Feeling anxious and frightened, she muttered, “Of course I am.”

He righted the chair for her and took a step back. “Good morn,” he said with a warm smile.

She found it difficult to look at him. Smoothing out her skirts, she regained her composure and sat back down.

“Ye dinnae eat yer porridge,” he said with a nod at the cold, congealed contents on the tray. “Do ye nae care for porridge?”

Margaret cleared her throat. “Actually, I do,” she admitted. She struggled to find an appropriate way to explain why she hadn’t eaten it.

’Twas then he glanced at the crumbled parchment in her hand. “I see ye have Onnleigh’s missive,” he said. “Did she tell ye about the weddin’?”

Momentarily taken aback by his calm composure, she said, “I have nae read it yet.”

Feeling comfortable in her presence, Aiden took a seat opposite Margaret. “I received a letter from Connor this morn as well. He and Onnleigh were happily wed last week.”

She couldn’t help but scrutinize him, looking for any signs of anger, upset, or knowledge of her secret. If Onnleigh knew, then Connor knew. The thought that Connor may have disclosed her secret to Aiden made her stomach churn with distress.

Clearing her throat, she did her best to look as calm and as composed as a sober priest. “What else did he have to say?” she asked as she tore a small bite from the now cold brown bread.

Aiden shifted in the chair and pulled Connor’s letter from his belt. He opened it and began to read to her.

“Onnleigh and I were married on the seventeenth day of January. She is a fine, fine woman and already has proven herself to be a good wife.” Aiden glanced up from the letter to smile at Margaret. “’Tis good they are happy, aye?”

Margaret nodded, unable to speak. A large knot of trepidation had formed in her throat.

Aiden turned back to the letter, found where he’d left off, and continued to read to her.

“Due to the inclement weather of late, we were unable to have a large wedding ceremony or feast. Therefore, Onnleigh and I are extending an invitation to ye and Margaret, to attend our belated wedding feast at the beginning of May.”

Margaret swallowed hard, her apprehension growing with each beat of her heart. Waiting for her husband to get to the part where Connor tells him all about her secret was maddening. Her heart continued to pound against her breast, her mouth turning quite dry as her fingers began to tremble.

Aiden looked up at Margaret. “Och!” he exclaimed happily. “Our first invitation to visit our allies,” he said rather triumphantly. “It will be our first event as husband and wife, aye?”

She couldn’t speak. ’Twas all she could do not to burst into tears and beg him to get to the bad part of Connor’s letter. All she could do was to keep her forced smile and pretend she wasn’t absolutely terrified.

Aiden went back to the letter. “It appears that the Duffies have been startin’ skirmishes at their borders.” He grunted. “I suppose that is no surprise, aye?” he asked as he looked back to her. “I wish I could have been there to see the looks on the MacKinnons, McLeans, and Duffies faces when they learned that we had joined forces with the MacCallens.” He wiggled his eyebrows most mischievously. “I imagine that bit of news put the fear of God into them, aye?”

Again, she remained silent, anxiously awaiting for him to read the part of Connor’s letter that would most assuredly make Aiden send her packing to the monastery to live with her mother.

Aiden returned to the letter, skimmed the page until he found where he’d left off. “Ah, here it is,” he said before reading aloud again. “Onnleigh wishes to continue to express her most sincere thanks and gratitude to Margaret. Without Margaret’s bravery, neither she nor our daughter, Nola, would be alive. For that, ye and Margaret will forever have our deepest gratitude and thanks.”

He turned to look at Margaret. “See?” he said with a proud smile, “Ye will always be held in the highest esteem with Connor and Onnleigh MacCallen.”

Margaret was wholly confounded. Aiden’s smile was as genuine as they came. No matter how hard she tried, she could not find even the slightest hint that he was upset or angry, or that he had any knowledge of her secret.

But he had yet to read the rest of the letter. When she asked him to read further, her voice cracked and sounded scratchy, even to her own ears.

Aiden was studying her closely, to the point that she felt ill at ease. Thankfully, he did not make any inquiries as to why her voice sounded off.

“Remember, we are allies now and forever,” Aiden said, returning to the letter. “Onnleigh has asked me to write a letter on her behalf, to Margaret. She wishes to express her own gratitude and hope for our future as allies and friends. With much respect and thanks, Connor MacCallen.”

Aiden folded the parchment and returned it to his belt.

“Is that all he says?” Margaret asked, unable to hide her bewilderment.

Aiden drew his brows inward. “Aye, that was all he said.” Confusion was etched in his brow. “What did Onnleigh’s letter say?”

Margaret shook her head and pretended to pick imaginary lint from her skirt. “I have nae read it yet.”

His expression changed from complete confusion to understanding in the blink of an eye. “Och!” he declared as he got to his feet. “I dinnae realize that ye dinnae how to read nor write, lass!”

He had the letter in his hand before Margaret could protest. “Of course I ken how to read and write, ye foolish man!” She grabbed the letter back from him. “I simply have nae taken the time to read it yet.”

If she had bothered to look at him at all, she would have seen the doubt in his eyes.

“Would ye like me to read it to ye whilst ye break yer fast?”

Admittedly, ’twas a very kind gesture he made. For once, it didn’t grate on her nerves or set her teeth on edge. That in and of itself was rather unsettling. Mayhap she was beginning to grow accustomed to genuinely kind and polite people.

She came close to accepting his offer, but reality pulled her back to the here and now. If the letter contained what she had so thoroughly convinced herself that it did, then to have him read it would have been the beginning of the end of her.

“Nay,” she said, forcing another smile. “I can read it myself.”

He returned to his seat and maintained an expression of doubt. “Ye dinnae believe me when I say I can read and write.” ’Twas a statement; no answer was needed.

“Of course I believe ye,” he said without a hint of deception.

They were at a momentary standstill. She didn’t believe that he was telling her the truth, and neither did he believe her.

Just to prove her point, she finally unfolded Onnleigh’s letter and read it—to herself, not to Aiden.

Dearest Margaret,

Connor is writing this letter on my behalf, as we all ken that I cannae read nor write. But Connor is teaching me now, and I am proud to tell ye that I can write my own name. Someday, I hope to be able to write to ye in my own hand.

’ Tis with a happy heart that I write to tell ye that Connor and were wed on the seventeenth of this month. ’ Twas a very beautiful ceremony. We were wed in the kirk, just after nightfall. The Kirk was lit with hundreds of candles that flickered all around us like will-o-the-wisps. There was nae an empty seat to be found, and many were forced to stand in the back.

I was admittedly sad that I dinnae have a mum there to help me. But Nora and Elsbeth were kind enough to help. They made me the most beautiful gown, a pale-blue fabric that reminded me of the color of ice when the loch freezes.

I do wish that ye and Aiden could have been here. I ken we were never friends, but I sincerely would like to change that. I owe ye my life, Margaret. I owe ye the life of my daughter. For that, ye will have my eternal gratitude. If ever ye should need me for anything, no matter how big or small, please, come to me first. I will always be there for ye, no matter what the circumstance might be. I want nothin ’ more than to put the past behind us and look to the future. If not as sisters then at least as friends.

I look forward to seeing you and Aiden in the spring. We shall feast and talk and become good friends, I think. Or, at least, I pray.

With my eternal thanks,

Onnleigh MacCallen

Margaret re-read the letter twice more, in stunned silence.

There were no threats, no veiled hints that she knew anything. Nothing at all to indicate that Onnleigh wanted to blackmail her or force her to do her bidding.

Nothing.

Not even the slightest hint she knew anything.

It hit her then, as heavy as a boulder falling down a cliffside: Not everyone was like her mother. Some people could be trusted. Honest and true friendships were possible. Not everyone was out to steal from others. Not everyone wanted to bring ill will to those people around them.

“Margaret?”

She gave a slight shake of her head before looking at him. For the first time in a long, long while, she was able to actually look at him without fear or apprehension.

What she did next surprised even herself.

Margaret smiled. A warm, sincere smile. “Aye?”

Oh, he was genuinely concerned, as well as confused. One moment the color had drained from his wife’s face, the next, she was smiling at him. Not an evil, spiteful smile as she had given him numerous times these past weeks. But an honest-to-goodness warm smile.

It scared the bloody hell out of him.

He shifted in his seat before asking, “What did Onnleigh say?” That wasn’t necessarily the question he truly wanted to ask. But he didn’t want to spoil the moment.

Margaret happily read the letter aloud to him.

He wasn’t accustomed to seeing his wife happy. Nay, he’d been thoroughly convinced she saved her happiness and gentle side for complete strangers. But, now, he didn’t know what to make of her.

As soon as she finished the missive, she folded it, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles.

Aye, he was still confused. Why had she appeared as though she were awaiting a death sentence before she read the letter?

Clarity burned bright then. She had been terrified as to what Onnleigh might have written. It had to have been some very important secret between the two women, in order to garner such a response from Margaret.

“It sounds as though she is quite happy,” Aiden said as he watched her stand up.

Margaret continued to smile. “Aye, she does sound quite happy.” She turned away then and went to the small table under the window. There, on top, was an intricately carved box. She opened it and placed the letter inside and gently closed its lid.

“I am verra happy for Onnleigh and Connor,” she said as she returned to her chair.

Aiden was rather enjoying this calm moment between him and Margaret. The last thing he wanted was to make her angry. He decided then that he wouldn’t ask why she had appeared terrified before she read the letter. Nay, he’d save that question for another time.

“Will we go?” Margaret asked him.

“Go?”

She giggled as she shook her head. “To their weddin’ celebration in the spring.”

He cleared the embarrassment from his throat before answering. “Aye, I do believe we can attend.”

“Good!” Margaret exclaimed as she clapped her hands together.

Truly, this sudden turn in her behavior was unsettling. He honestly didn’t know what to make of it.

Mayhap, I should simply enjoy the fact that she does nae wish to scratch me eyes out, he mused quietly. Mayhap she had simply started to feel more at ease with him.

Truly, he didn’t wish to look this gift horse in the mouth. Nay, he would take enjoyment in the fact that her opinion of him might be changing. There was no sense in upsetting the boat.

Still, he would proceed with the same amount of caution as he would if he were trying to tame a bear. He wasn’t quite ready yet to trust her implicitly.

Nay, she had a far way to go to gain his fealty.