Page 38 of To Love a Scottish Lord (Highland Lords #4)

M ary came into the courtyard, looking for Hamish, but he was gone.

For a moment, she thought he might have gone fishing again, but a quick, cursory glance around the courtyard showed her that was unlikely.

One of the horses was missing from the lean-to that served as their stable.

He’d gone hunting as he’d promised the night before.

Their provisions were dwindling. Soon they would have to go into Inverness, and she would no longer have an excuse to stay.

Her mind slid from that thought, but the abrupt regret she felt made her realize the depth of her jeopardy.

The longer she remained at Castle Gloom, the greater the grief she’d feel when she left.

Giving up Hamish would be more of a loss than she’d initially imagined.

Dear, brave Mary Gilly. The words floated in the air, a reminder of all the times the matrons of Inverness had looked on her with pity.

She wasn’t the only woman to be married to a man of advanced years, but she’d been treated as if her circumstances were different.

When Gordon had died, it was the same, kind looks sent in her direction and whispers following.

She wanted to be envied for her happiness, not pitied for her sorrow.

What would the good matrons of Inverness have to say to her now?

She could only imagine. At least when she’d lost Gordon, her friends and acquaintances had looked on her with kindness.

If she were sad from time to time, it was no less to be expected.

No one would understand this grief. She could almost hear their words now.

It’s what she deserves. Foolish woman. Didn’t she think about what would happen?

She had considered the cost, but the truth was that it hadn’t mattered.

She’d even considered the fact that she might have a child from this arrangement.

Because of the risks, she’d begun using sponges soaked in vinegar after that first, and unexpected, coupling with Hamish.

Nothing, however, was foolproof. A week from now she would know for certain.

If she weren’t with child, she’d leave Castle Gloom with all possible haste, return to her pious role of widow once again, and consider herself fortunate despite her foolishness.

And if she was? A fanciful notion, since she’d never had a child in ten years of marriage. A week’s reprieve, then. Until that time she wouldn’t share Hamish’s bed. A helpless laugh escaped her at that foolish idea. She wanted him even now.

The castle felt so empty. A deserted structure made even more so by the absence of one man.

But he wasn’t just any man. The longer she knew him, the more fascinated with him she became. All the warning bells that had pealed so ominously in her conscience had been muted by a stronger emotion. Not lust but something else entirely.

She’d gone from her parents’ home to Gordon’s. In the intervening years, her fondness for her husband had turned to love. At least she’d always thought so. But comparing that emotion against what she felt for Hamish MacRae was like comparing a gray, overcast sky to the sun.

Stay with me . A few days had passed since Hamish had made the suggestion, and he’d not mentioned it again. But she’d not been able to forget it.

Entering the kitchen, she stood, admiring the room.

The place looked lived in, less orderly than when Hester had been in charge, but still a welcome place.

All that was needed were a few pots of herbs on the windowsill, and perhaps a savory pie cooling on the table, and one or two children gamboling under foot.

For a second, she could almost see them playing tag, being boisterous and in the way.

Unbidden, she’d made herself part of the vision, as a mother of those children.

That scene brought her abruptly back to reality.

This interlude was only that, a time out of her life that she could recall with fondness and a smile. A secret that she would hold to herself, one that was hers alone. No one else would know that the oh-so-proper Mary Gilly had once been a wanton.

During these past weeks, she couldn’t imagine leaving Castle Gloom, and consequently envisioned staying forever.

Hamish’s words didn’t promise anything, just the same sort of impermanent arrangement they had now, living as children might in an abandoned fortress.

She wanted to go home, yet she never wanted to leave him.

She wanted propriety, but she wanted him.

Those wishes weren’t compatible with each other.

She left the kitchen, walking back into the courtyard.

The day was a sunny one, although the temperature had dropped in the past few days.

She blew a breath and saw it smoke. Last night, she’d curled next to Hamish for warmth, and he’d laughed at the coldness of her feet, before getting up to light the brazier.

When she’d awakened that morning, it had been to find him curled behind her, his front warming her back.

She’d smiled in drowsy contemplation before going back to sleep.

She needed to leave. But how could she bear it?

Each night, they’d played a game of shatranj, the stakes more and more decadent.

But there were times when the game ended in laughter, and the experiments did also.

She’d never known delight so sharp that it had cascaded into joy.

Nor had she thought that these days of abandon might give way to curiosity, and empathy, and feelings she’d never expected.

She’d learned of Hamish’s childhood in Nova Scotia, of the good-natured rivalry among the five brothers. The year of his imprisonment was never discussed, but never forgotten. Every day she bathed his chest and back, applying a mixture of barley root and mustard to the deep scars.

They’d tortured his body, but they’d never degraded his spirit. When she’d said as much to him, he’d only smiled that half smile. “You wouldn’t have thought so to see me during that year. I was little more than an animal.”

She’d never known anyone who had been through what he’d had to endure. What would she have done, in his place? She wasn’t entirely sure.

“You’re amazingly brave,” she’d said. He’d only focused on the game, giving her the impression that her words had embarrassed him. “Or are MacRaes always brave?” she asked, to lighten the moment.

He finally looked at her. “I had a remarkable will to live. It’s elemental, and all creatures have it.”

She didn’t think it was that simple, but she’d not pressed the matter.

A noise at the land gate made her turn. She walked toward the opening with a smile on her face.

“Have you caught our dinner, then?” she asked. “Something easy to prepare, I hope.”

To her surprise, it wasn’t Hamish standing there, but two strangers.

Her first thought was that these people were the actual owners of Castle Gloom, and they’d come to the castle demanding a reason for Mary and Hamish’s trespass.

Her second thought, following immediately on the heels of the first, was that they didn’t belong there at all.

One of the men was short and stocky, with brown hair cropped so close that it made him look almost bald at first glance.

The other man was of average height with a mane of black hair, cut in a bowl shape around his skull with bangs stopping just short of his eyebrows.

Both were attired in dark-colored coats and breeches.

“Are you Mary Gilly?” the nearly bald man asked.

She frowned at him, surprised. “Why would you be wanting to know?” Pushing aside a growing sense of unease, she approached the men, both of whom were looking around them with interest.

“Are you alone here?”

She didn’t answer them, instead broached a question of her own. “What do you want?”

“Are you Mary Gilly?” he asked again.

“I am,” she said, pressing her clenched hands hard against her midriff to still the quivering sensation in her stomach.

“We’ve come to arrest you, Mary Gilly,” the bald man said. “For the murder of your husband.”

When Hamish returned to the courtyard, he called out her name. Mary didn’t respond; only silence answered him. He halted where he was and looked around him, all senses alert. He left his horse beside the well and went looking for her in the kitchen.

Mary, however, was nowhere to be found.

He strode through the remains of the castle, seeing where feminine touches had altered the old structure. It no longer seemed abandoned as much as waiting.

The dread he was feeling grew as he left the castle and crossed the courtyard.

She had a habit of coming there in the morning, and sitting on the edge of the well.

Sometimes, he watched her staring up at the sunrise as if she’d never seen it in Inverness.

The sky over the loch exploded in color, streaks of yellow, pink, and blue, but in truth, it was no match for her loveliness.

Now, however, the well rim was empty, as was the courtyard. Only he and his horse occupied it, and Hamish could feel the silence fold in around him.

He headed for the tower, climbing the circular stairs, calling out her name. “Mary.” The sound echoed up the steps, then faded to silence.

He entered his chamber, half expected to see her sitting on the bed teasing him with her smile.

“Did you miss me?” she’d say, and he’d want to shake her for worrying him. Instead, he’d kiss her soundly, a reward for being there.

She wasn’t there, either.

He opened the window, feeling the bite of the winter wind off the loch.

She wasn’t in the castle. The place felt as empty as it had the day he’d left the longboat.

He’d come here to live out his life, doing nothing to lengthen or shorten it himself.

It was an agreement he’d made with God, a punishment he’d offered up for his sins.

Perhaps she’d gone out to gather leaves or herbs or roots for her medicines and gotten lost. Perhaps she’d injured herself and was waiting for him to come find her.