Page 29 of The Highlander’s Hellion Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #1)

29

“ W hat’s on yer mind?” she asked.

Alison had a passing thought that if it was not for the tincture, she might have been able to read his mood. But given how she was currently feeling, she was at a loss.

“What will ye say to MacKimmon?” she asked.

It had been one of the questions that she could not get out of her mind. She knew that Laird MacKimmon had signed the peace treaty, but would all of that change now that Duncan had killed his man-at-arms? Would he believe that it was Johnson who had killed his sister? Would the peace treaty still stand?

“The truth,” Duncan answered, giving her a one-shoulder shrug. “I willnae lie to him. I’ll dispatch a messenger to his castle in the mornin’. I’ll give him a brief explanation, then ask if he will agree to havin’ a meetin’ to discuss the terms of the treaty.”

“Do ye think it’ll still stand?”

His eyebrows knitted together, and he tilted his head to the side. “Why would it nae?”

“Ye killed his man-at-arms,” Alison answered in a tone that implied he had missed the obvious.

“And his man-at-arms killed his sister. He was the reason the war started—the reason all those men are now dead.”

“And what if the treaty doesnae stand? What if it isnae enough?”

With that question, Alison realized why she had been feeling so insecure and off-kilter since returning to her chambers. That was what she was so scared of.

If the treaty did not hold and MacKimmon went back on his word, they would be at war again, which meant that Duncan would leave, and they would be right back where they had started.

She did not know if she could bear it.

“If he goes back on his word, then we fight,” Duncan said simply.

Alison nodded, turning her head so she did not have to look at him. She did not want him to see the look on her face as she tried to work through the many complicated emotions that were warring inside her. She did not want to school her expression while she fought the tincture for control of her mind.

The mattress shifted, and a moment later, Duncan’s thumb was under her chin, guiding her gaze back to his.

“It willnae be like last time,” he said, his voice strong and sure. “Even if we do go to war, I willnae be goin’ for long. I may have to go for a wee bit, but I will always come home.”

“Ye cannae promise that,” Alison answered.

Her throat burned as tears threatened to overwhelm her. They were gathering at the corners of her eyes, and she tried with everything in her not to let them fall.

“Ye cannae promise that,” she insisted, cursing herself for the quiver in her voice. “Nae when I ken that ye willnae allow yer men to die because ye’re nae by their side. Ye will fight with them. Ye’d hate yerself if ye didnae.”

“I said I would go, aye. Ye’re right about that.” Duncan’s voice was gentler than she had ever heard it. His compassion finally gave her the courage to meet his gaze.

His blue eyes were shining, and his countenance was open and honest. The gruff, uncaring pretense to which she had grown accustomed had disappeared completely.

The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally did so and ran down the hollows of her cheeks.

“But even when I do go,” Duncan continued, “I willnae actually be gone. Nae like I was last time. When I’m at the front, I’ll write to ye, and I will come home whenever I can—whenever I ken they can spare me or I can command from here. But Alison, I promise it will be different this time.”

“I dinnae want ye to leave!” Alison protested.

Once the words fell from her mouth in a rush, they would not stop. All of the hurt and the fear and the pain that she’d been suppressing for the last five years bubbled out of her.

“I dinnae care what it’s for,” she continued. “I dinnae care if they drop bodies on our doorstep. I dinnae want ye to leave. I dinnae want to go through what happened again. I cannae bear it. I cannae bear bein’ alone all the time, cannae bear wonderin’ where ye are or if ye’re even alive. I cannae bear havin’ to tell Rosie every night that her faither will be comin’ home tonight, all the while kennin’ that there’s every chance that’s a lie. I cannae do it. I willnae.”

Duncan furrowed his brow. “Ye ken I cannae promise that I’ll stay nay matter what.” His voice was level and patient, and it made Alison all the more angry.

“Then send me back to me faither!” she all but yelled. “At least there I’ll be looked after and cared for. At least there I willnae have to raise Rosie alone.”

Duncan recoiled as if she’d struck him, his eyes flashing with a quiet, stunned rage. “Ye’re the one who wants to leave now?” he hissed.

Alison shook her head, realizing the implications of what she’d just said.

“I dinnae want to,” she amended, her voice slightly calmer than it had been a moment ago. “But I cannae stay here alone again.”

She paused, taking a moment to consider what she’d just said.

Duncan opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. “I just need a moment to think.”

Much to her surprise, his mouth snapped shut.

Alison studied her husband, her eyes roving over his handsome face. His blue eyes were narrowed on her, letting her know that he was still angry. But there was something else below his anger. Another emotion that she understood all too well.

Fear.

“I will still let ye see Rosie,” she spoke more gently this time. “Ye can visit us there when ye’re nae at the front. Or we can come here. We can find a way to make it work for the three of us. But I cannae stay here alone if ye have to go off to war again.”

Duncan studied her face, his blue eyes dark with emotion. She wished more than ever that she could read his mind, that she could delve into the corners of his brain and find out what he was thinking.

However, she did not try to encourage or sway him into agreeing with her. She wanted him to agree on his own terms. She did not want to pressure him, even though she hoped he would say yes.

“All right,” he relented finally, his tone once again impassive. “If it comes to that and I have to leave, ye can go back to yer faither.”

Relief flooded through her, and she let out a long, slow breath.

“But it willnae come to that,” Duncan reassured her. “I will show ye. The peace treaty will stand. And if it doesnae, I’m still nae goin’ anywhere.”

Alison opened her mouth to argue when they heard the sound of small, running feet in the corridor. A moment later, Rosie burst excitedly through the door.

“Maither! Are ye feelin’ all right?” she asked, hurling her small body through Alison’s room. “Effie said that ye were still hurtin’.”

She climbed onto the bed, huffing and puffing dramatically as she flung herself beside Alison.

Despite the tension-fraught conversation she and Duncan just had, Alison laughed.

“I’m just a bit sore,” she explained, reaching up to tousle Rosie’s curls. “So ye still have to be gentle with me.”

Rosie nodded, suddenly quite serious. “I can be gentle. Will ye let me sleep with ye? I dinnae want to be in me rooms. Faither can stay, too!”

She pointed to Duncan, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed. His eyes flicked to Alison.

“Ye ken he cannae do that,” Alison chided, shaking her head. “Ye take up more space than a horse, spreadin’ yer limbs everywhere. I’d consider meself lucky if ye didnae kick me out of the bed with yer nighttime antics.”

Rosie stuck out her lower lip in a pout. “So, I cannae stay?”

Alison chuckled. “ Ye can stay,” she corrected, smiling at her daughter. “But there isnae enough room for the three of us.” She gave her husband a pointed look.

She was glad for Rosie’s request, glad that her daughter was giving her an excuse to make him leave her to her thoughts.

Duncan did not respond right away. Instead, he seemed to be considering everything he had heard in the last few minutes. He stared at her for a moment, and she held his gaze.

She expected him to give in, to bid them goodnight and excuse himself from her chambers, but he did not.

“I dinnae need to share a bed with ye to still sleep here,” he grunted.

Alison watched as he turned and crossed her bedroom to the stuffed reading chair in the far corner. He lowered himself into it, pulled the ottoman over, and kicked up his feet with a sigh.

“Ye cannae sleep in that chair all night,” she admonished.

“I told ye I’m nae leavin’. I’m goin’ to prove that to ye.”

“I didnae mean ye couldnae leave me bedroom!”

Duncan shifted his weight, sinking a little more comfortably into the chair. “Leavin’ is leavin’,” he growled. “And I keep me word.”

Alison shook her head. She did not say anything further to her husband, opting instead to drink the rest of the vial Malina had left her, then pulled her daughter close.

Rosie’s soft, delicate scent filled her nostrils, and she was all too delighted to breathe it in. She had come so close to losing this, to never being able to hold her daughter again. She would not waste the precious time she had with her by arguing with her husband.

He’ll nae stay there all night. By the time I wake up, he will have given up and gone to his rooms.

With that thought in her mind, Alison allowed the milk of the poppy to drag her under into a deep, dreamless sleep.