By letting Mairin get over her upset, chances were that by the time he retired to their chamber, the initial storm would be over. He congratulated himself for his brilliant analysis and had a second helping of the stew.
A half hour later, however, when Maddie hurried into the hall to tell him that his wife was not in their chamber, he realized that his mistake was believing anything would be simple when it came to his impulsive wife.
She made him feel incompetent, and that his efforts to keep her safe were haphazard at best. None of that was true, but it raised his ire because he hadn’t felt a moment of self-doubt since he was a lad. He could train and lead an entire army. He could win a battle when he was outnumbered five to one. But he couldn’t keep a slip of a lass under control. It defied all reason and was making him daft in the process.
He pushed away from the table and stalked in the direction that Mairin had left. It was obvious she hadn’t gone up the stairs, so he continued past to the doorway leading outside the keep.
“Have you seen your mistress?” he called to Rodrick who was up on the wall.
“Aye, Laird. She came by half hour past.”
“And where is she now?”
“She’s in the bathhouses. Gregory and Alain are watching over her. She’s having a good cry, but otherwise, she is well.”
Ewan winced and heaved a sigh. He much preferred her spitting like an angry kitten '0em'>female tears and even less experience in dealing with them.
He went in the direction of the bathhouses. Gregory and Alain were standing outside one of the walls and they looked vastly relieved when Ewan strode up.
“Thank goodness you’re here, Laird. You must make her stop. She’s going to take ill with so much crying,” Alain said.
Gregory frowned. “It isn’t right for a lass to cry so much. Whatever it is you have to promise her, please do so. She’s going to drown herself!”
Ewan held up a hand. “Thank you for your protection. You can go now. I’ll see to your mistress.”
They did a sorry job of hiding their obvious relief. As they left, Ewan heard the light sniffles that came from the inside of the bathhouses. Damn, but he hated the idea of her crying.
He stepped inside the dark interior and glanced around, blinking to adjust to the darkness. He followed the sounds of the sniffling until he found her sitting on a bench along the far wall. She was partially silhouetted by a sliver of moonlight that crept in through the narrow window carved into the stone, and he could see that her head was bowed, her shoulders slumped forward.
“Go away.” Her muffled voice filtered through the crumbling bathhouse.
“Ah, lass,” he said as he sat beside her on the bench. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” she said in a voice that clearly indicated she was.
“ ’Tis a sin to lie,” he offered, knowing it would get her back up.
“ ’Tis a sin to do nothing but yell at your wife, too,” she said mournfully. “You promised to cherish me, aye, you did, but ’tis God’s truth I don’t feel very cherished.”
He sighed. “Mairin, you sorely try my patience. I imagine you’ll continue to exasperate me for years to come. I can tell you this won’t be the only time I yell at you. If I told you differently I’d be lying.”
“You embarrassed me in front of your men,” she said in a low voice. “In front of that cretin stable master. He’s a toad and shouldn’t be allowed near a horse.”
Ewan touched her cheek and brushed a long strand behind her ear so he could better see her face. He winced when he felt the dampness of her skin.
“Listen to me, sweeting. Arthur and Magnus have been arguing in one form or fashion since before I was born. The day they stop arguing will be the day we lay them in the ground. They came to me about the horse, but I refused to render a judgment because it kept them focused on the horse. If I gave it to one or the other, then they’d find something else to argue over, and at least the horse is harmless enough.”
“I took it away from the both of them,” she said. “She may be old but she deserves better than to be argued over by two daft old men.”
Ewan chuckled. “Aye, they told me you stole their horse and that you relieved Arthur of his duties.”
Mairin twisted in her seat and latched on to Ewan’s hand with her own. “How can that deplorable man be your stable master? Why, Ewan, he put his own horse into the cold without food or shelter. You would trust such a man with your own steed? A horse you would go into battle with?”
Ewan smiled at her vehemence. She was a fierce little thing. She’d already come to view his keep as her home and she was taking over with quite the militant attitude.
“I appreciate your determination to ensure we have the best possible care for my horses. But the truth is, Arthur is a magician with horses. Aye, he’s hostile and argumentative and he’s not very respectful, but he’s old and he’s been the stable master since my father was laird. He didn’t mistreat his mare, lass. I would have taken a whip to him myself if that was the case. ’Twas the story he told to save face after the horse took a bite out of his backside. He’s a complete lamb when it comes to the horses. They’re his babies, although he’d die before admitting so. He cares more for them than for any other living thing.”
Mairin’s shoulders slumped and she looked down at her feet. “I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?”
“Nay, lass.”
She twisted her fingers in her lap. “I just wanted to fit in here. Be a part of a clan. I wanted to have duties. I wanted my clan to respect me, come to me with their troubles. I used to dream of having a home and a family. Not a day went by at the abbey that I didn’t imagine what it would be like to live free of fear and to be able to go my own way.”
She chanced a look up at him, and he could see the vulnerability shining in her eyes. “That was all just a
