Page 25 of His Secret Highland Bride

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Shane lay still on the floor, despite his urge to move around. He knew well that moving wouldn’t settle the unrest, so there was no use of it. It was becoming clear as every day went by that his new wife would not be satisfied with a marriage in name only. She wanted more from him.

He wasn’t certain he had more to give, but in the last few days since she’d spoken up about Maria, Shane had begun to feel things when he’d not been able to feel anything but guilt and grief the last year.

It was at this time when he searched for sleep to claim him that his thoughts collided. He had loved Maria. Her free spirit, the way she wasn’t afraid to say what she was thinking and call him out to tangle with him. He’d not once seen her back down. He wondered now: if she had run and hid when the French attacked the camp, would she have been spared? He imagined her shouting at the leering soldiers when she should have looked for an escape.

Lindsay had a spirit as well, but it was more reserved, and he thought that would do her well in a violent situation. Not that he’d ever abandon her to face such a thing alone. He’d learned that lesson too well. The quiet continued, but he knew Lindsay wasn’t asleep. He could almost hear her waiting for him to reveal some small piece of himself, as he had the past two nights. He’d told her small things about his previous life. He’d even smiled last night at the memories he’d shared.

She’d been right. It did help him to talk about Maria. He found himself eager to tell Lindsay something more significant in the hopes of lifting more of the weight he carried.

“It was my fault she died,” he heard a voice saying before he’d given himself permission to speak.

“People often carry guilt for things they feel responsible for, even when there was nothing else that could be done.”

He nodded, though it was too dark and too far for her to have seen him. He understood, but that wasn’t the case now. He decided to tell her everything and let her judge him.

“A smaller battle broke out at the far edge of camp. It didn’t take long for word to spread that the French had come looking for trouble. Ronan had gone to get water, and I knew he would have been close by when the battle broke out. My only thought was to get to my brother and have his back as he had mine the day before. It had grown impossible to remember who had saved whose life the most, but Ronan had saved mine most recently, and I could only think of the debt that needed to be repaid.”

“Debt or no, your brother was in danger. That is reason enough to have gone.”

He thought about that for a moment and realized she was right.

“Normally, when I went off to battle I paid one of the lads to watch over Maria. To help her carry things and see she was safe. But this came up quickly, so I grabbed up my weapons and ran. I can’t recall if I even kissed her in my haste.”

He felt a hot tear roll across his temple to be lost in his hair and cleared the pain from his throat.

“It was a ruse. A distraction to pull our attention away so they could raid the camp for food, weapons, and horses. Maria was fierce and wouldn’t have given up our meager goods so easily. She paid dearly for it. I shouldn’t have left her unprotected. I chose my brother and my men over my wife.”

A soft sniff came from the bed, and he realized his wife was crying. He didn’t think; he only knew he needed to go to her.

He climbed into bed next to her and pulled her against him. “Shh. I’m sorry. I upset ye,” he said while rubbing her back.

He felt her shake her head. “I’m to be comforting you.”

He laughed, a real laugh that sounded strange after he’d been so close to those awful memories just moments ago.

“You’re doing a fine job of it, lass.” It may have sounded like a jest, but it was true. He felt needed and useful as he held Lindsay. And for the first time since Maria died, he felt not so very alone.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and felt his heart trip as he breathed in the floral scent of her hair. It seemed the broken thing was not gone after all.

Chapter Ten

Lindsay brushed the tears away, feeling like a goose. She’d wanted to help her husband through his pain, but here he was, helping her. She couldn’t even find something to say to ease his guilt, for telling him it wasn’t his fault was insignificant and useless.

Somewhere in his heart, he knew the truth—that he’d made a mistake. He’d never have left Maria if he’d known it could have been a trap. But he had convinced himself he was at fault, and she would not change his mind until he was ready to believe it.

The best she could think to do was hold him a bit tighter and hope he understood.

As was common after he’d shared such an intimate part of himself, he faded quickly and drifted into a peaceful sleep. She imagined it would be exhausting carrying around such anger for himself with nowhere to put it.

Except he had found a way to punish himself. He’d rejected her and what happiness they might have by keeping his distance. She’d thought to be patient, to wait for him to eventually drop his guard so she might have the chance to win his heart.

But now she realized the error of this tactic. For he may not ever forgive himself enough to love anyone. Talking with her at night seemed to help him, but a person could not be as open with a stranger as a loved one.

She woke earlier than him the next morning and slipped from the bed to gather her cloak and boots. With Treun by her side, she took the path to the river and gathered the things she needed before going to the rock she had claimed as a special place for thinking. Crushing the berries with a stone, she used the juice to carefully paint the words on the pale stone.

“What do ye think?” she asked the dog, who offered no opinion beyond a cocked ear. But Lindsay realized Tre was responding not to her question but rather the panicked sound of a man yelling her name.