Page 21 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)

“ M aither!”

Nathan had barely begun his report when he was interrupted by Olivia’s outcry.

Not that it bothered Arthur; he watched his little selkie take off from the entrance, his men quickly helping her mother down off the saddle before the pair practically collided together into a tight embrace.

She nearly took the poor old woman to the ground; lucky his men had stuck around to keep their balance.

Eventually, the pair melted into a kneeling puddle of tears, and Arthur couldn’t help but blink furiously himself.

He’d never once seen Olivia break down and cry, and to see her so freely sob into her mother’s arms…

now more than ever, he was thankful that deer led him on such a wild chase.

Thankful it’d taken him to the tarn that night, exactly when he was needed the most.

“I’ll…finish my report later,” Nathan said, similarly eyeing the heartfelt reunion.

“Aye,” Arthur agreed. “Go and make sure all our men an’ horses are taken care of. Then take some time wit yer wife,” he added. “Cause I’ve got an errand to run in town with ye.”

With a nod of his head, Nathan set off to tend to his duties, leaving Arthur to handle his own. He approached Olivia and her mother, still kneeling on the ground in each other’s embrace.

“I-I was so worried about ye, Olivia,” her mother bawled. “When MacDonnell men told the nuns they were lookin fer me–that ye’d been brought to their laird’s very own keep,”

“Aye, I ken, Maither,” Olivia sobbed. “I ken, I ken.”

Arthur cleared his throat softly, catching the pair’s attention at last. While Olivia looked slightly embarrassed, her mother made her fear entirely obvious, arm clutching her daughter as she shifted in front of her.

“I daenae mean either of ye harm, Lady MacCulloh. Olivia has been our most honored guest this last week or so.”

“‘Tis true, Maither,” Olivia said. “The laird has treated me wit more respect than our own clan has.”

Her mother gave Arthur a wary look regardless.

“Lady MacCulloh,” Elspeth approached the group next, slipping off her shawl before draping it over Olivia’s mother. “Ye must be so tired after everything ye went through. Please; allow me to offer a bath and some fresh clothes. We look to be similar in size.”

Olivia’s mother looked to her daughter, who nodded gently. “Go on, Maither. I’ll be right behind ye.”

Arthur couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed.

He wanted Olivia to himself for a moment–at least long enough to fill her in on what Nathan had told him so far–but of course, it made sense she wouldn’t want to leave her mother alone in enemy territory.

With a slight nod, he watched as the women slowly made their way back into the keep, himself moving to alert the servants of their newest arrival.

Olivia had never seen her mother in such a terrible state.

Faded bruises covered her skin once she undressed for her bath, and it took a good while for her to work all the knots from her hair.

But once she’d done it up simply, and Elspeth had found a gown for her to wear, her mother looked far more lively.

Her once-pallid cheeks were now rosy from the steam of the bath, and though she only nibbled on the edge of an oatcake, Olivia knew her mother was now on the path of recovery.

The trio decided to sit in one of the cozier alcoves, Elspeth reassuring that a few crumbs on their armchairs will hardly support whatever mice scurry behind the walls.

She insisted on layering Olivia’s mother in a number of quilts, ensuring the servants kept the hearth stoked and her teacup filled and pipping hot.

“‘Tis…very sweet o’ye to care fer me like this,” Olivia’s mother began, a slight tremble catching her voice.

“Och, nay bother, love!” Elspeth replied with a wave of her hand. “Yer daughter’s practically become part of our family! I wouldnae be caught dead treating her own flesh and blood any less.”

Olivia smiled softly, sipping a bit of her own tea as well. Her mother–her mother was finally safe. She sank into her own armchair, suddenly feeling a massive weight lift off her chest.

“Well, I cannae thank ye enough fer tending to me Olivia,” her mother said.

“Of course! We’re all just relieved to see ye safe behind our walls.” A sour note filled Elspeth’s voice as she added with a huff, “‘Tis terrible, what yer own kinfolk did to the pair of ye. Why, if I had a say in this, I would have rode over meself and boxed each an’ every one o’their ears!”

A slight smile crossed Olivia’s face, but her mood was somber just the same. She knew she had to ask the question, but she worried what reliving such terror would do for her poor mother’s heart.

“M-Maither…the night we separated…what happened to ye? Did our clan–I mean, th-the injuries…” a sour lump began to form in her throat, and Olivia found herself unable to continue.

“Oh, mo laochain…” Her mother’s eyes grew misty, and Olivia stood up from her chair and knelt beside her.

She grasped her mother’s hand, worn and frail, but warmed by the kindness of her supposed enemies.

Olivia exhaled softly, stroking her fingers between her mother’s knuckle in an attempt to soothe her.

“T’was nae our kinfolk who did this to me. In truth,” she added with a light chuckle. “I think they were more than happy to be rid o’me. ‘A wild woman,’ they screamed while running back to the keep. Pretty sure I bit one o’them harder than I meant to.”

“M-Maither!” Olivia gasped, holding back startled laughter.

“Aye–ye should’ve done worse,” Elspeth insisted with a curt nod. “Bit a finger off, had them recall who ye were to them.”

Oliva shook her head, surprised at how vicious the two elderly women could be. “Then, where did all to bruises come from?”

Her mother glanced toward the fire, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I’m nay a spring chicken anymore, love. Running in the dark o’ the forest did a number on me. I nearly broke me arm stumbling onto the convent.”

“But,”

“But nothing broke,” Olivia’s mother reassured. “Just a wee bit banged up, is all. The nuns had some wonderful salve to help wit the healing process.”

“Aye, I’d say so,” Elspeth marveled. “Those bruises looked to be weeks old!”

A gentle knock tapped against the wooden archway, with Arthur standing underneath. He offered the warmest smile he could muster, though Olivia took note of her mother’s wary stare. “How are we over here?”

“Och, Arthur! Yer timing is perfect.” Elspeth gestured toward him, and the laird seemed willing to oblige. He took Olivia’s original seat, earning a slight glare from her mother as Olivia continued to pat her hand reassuringly.

“Thank ye fer protectin’ me daughter, Laird MacDonnell.” Olivia’s mother spoke in a perfectly practiced tone; neutral, with just enough edge to tell the recipient she wasn’t to be trifled with.

Elspeth waved her hand through the building tension in the air, doing her best to keep her tone jovial and her expression cheery. “Och, nay none o’that chill, hen! Me son would hardly let anything happen to his newly betrothed."

The room fell deathly silent, Arthur visibly grimacing as Olivia fought to hold back a groan.

“Mam,” Arthur began calmly through gritted teeth. “That’s nay how ye bring up such monumental news, ‘specially to one who’s been worried sick over her child fer so long.”

Elspeth looked ready to retort back, but caught the look on Olivia’s mother’s face.

Her expression softened, her jovial tone dampening slightly.

“A-Aye…apologies, hen. I–I suppose I’ve just been so excited to tell ye.

The way my son looks at yer daughter, well…

” warmth returned to her smile as she looked lovingly Arthur’s way.

“I suppose…I just couldnae wait fer ye to experience it fer yerself.”

Olivia’s mother simply stared at her daughter, mouth slightly agape and brow knitted. Again; again, she would have to lie to protect the laird’s little charade. Swallowing her dignity, Olivia forced her own smile while giving her mother’s hand another squeeze. “I ken it sounds bizarre, Maither,”

“Yer faither, Olivia,” her mother managed to croak out. “Yer own brother–their killer is to one ye’ve taken a fancy to?”

Olivia could feel her spirit breaking apart.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen; she was supposed to tell her mother the truth in private, fill her in on the scheme before too many emotions were tied up into.

But now, it was too late. She would be lucky if her mother ever spoke to her again, after this.

“I didnae want anything to do with him at first, Maither,” Olivia explained, desperate to inject as much truth into her explanation as possible.

“When I first crossed paths wit him, I’d just been pulled outta a frigid tarn.

I was cold, and defenseless, and…” her eyes flickered to Arthur, looking surprisingly entranced by her words.

She didn’t want to hurt him, either; she didn’t want to hurt either of them, but that just wasn’t possible.

“But this last week…I daenae ken how to explain it. He’s shown so much on how he sees the world, and… and I was moved by it, Maither.”

Olivia inhaled, letting the breath burn in her chest before it rushed out into her continued, impromptu speech.

“He’s nae simply a murderer, or a bloodthirsty warrior.

There’s–there’s more to him, to the life I thought I knew.

He’s showing me how to defend myself,” she added, a nervous flitter of laughter escaping from her chest. “I–I’ve pinned him twice, Maither!

I never felt so strong, so–so confident in meself.

” She turned her head towards Arthur, and she was certain she’d never seen him look so… humbled.

“But, Olivia,” her mother weakly protested.

“I was destroyed when Faither died,” Olivia said firmly.

“But…but I cannae keep wallowing in his death, Maither. If anything has been proven, it is that ye cannae protect me forever. I daenae want to simply cling to me old title as a laird’s daughter; I wish to be a woman who is unafraid o’ the world.

To live up to the pet name ye’ve given me.

I…” she swallowed her nerves, belting out from her chest, “I want to be yer laochain.”

The room grew terribly quiet, the tension so thick, even a properly sharpened blade couldn’t cut through it.

Olivia simply stared at her mother, desperate for her to say something–anything, even if it was to scold her, or chastise her, or…

or something. Anything but the silence. But no; her mother spoke no further, her gaze fixated on the fire as the lights danced behind her unmoving eyes.

“I…” Elspeth suddenly stood from her chair, giving Arthur’s hand a gentle squeeze before crossing the room to Olivia’s mother.

“I think, perhaps, Lady MacCulloh is tired after her long journey. Why daenae I show yer room, hen?” She offered a hand, though Olivia’s mother stood on her own, offering only a curt nod of thanks.

Arthur gestured to a passing servant, giving hushed instruction as both mothers left the alcove.

His gaze turned to Olivia, but she couldn’t stand to look at him.

“I wish to be alone, fer a bit,” Olivia managed to croak out.

She might as well have stabbed Arthur with a knife.

Even so, his gave her a gentle nod in return, slipping out of the alcove himself.

Soon, only the crackling flames of the hearth filled the silence, Olivia trying desperately to steel her nerves before she fell apart completely.

She thought her world fell apart the night her clan chased her away, but this…

this had to be the true apocalypse. There was no way to tell if her mother would ever forgive her–ever speak to her again.

And worst of all…everything she said about Arthur hadn’t entirely been part of the ruse, leaving her more confused and uncertain than ever before.