She laughed softly. “And ye’re quite drunk.”
She was at his side in an instant, her floral perfume a balm and an aphrodisiac all at once. “Come, I’ll help ye to bed.”
He shook his head and regretted it almost as soon as he’d done it for how it made the room twirl faster. “I need to talk to ye. About Lara.”
She stilled. “That isn’t necessary if ye don’t want to discuss it.”
“Ye deserve to know.” He reached out for the chair and settled heavily into it. “Mayhap, it makes me a coward, but it will be easier to say if I’m daft with drink.”
She put her hand over his, her expression so tender it nearly made his heart wince.
“I should have told ye sooner.” He turned his hand over to wrap around hers. “’Tis no’ an easy thing to bring up.”
She regarded him with concern. How he wanted to draw her toward him and kiss her. But maybe not for too long or he might tip over. Nay, just long enough to draw her to the bed and nuzzle against her before they fell asleep.
But now was not the time. Not yet.
“Our marriage was arranged by a member of my mother’s clan after it was confirmed ye werena able to be found.” Ewan offered her an apologetic look. “Or I’m certain yer grandda would have pushed for our union sooner.”
She shook her head. “Ye needn’t explain yerself.”
Ewan squeezed her hand in appreciation for her understanding. “I dinna know her before we wed, but we got on well enough. She was a fine wife and a good woman who ran the keep smoothly.” He paused, uncertain what else to say to recommend Lara. She had not caused any problems. She’d been quiet and biddable, but outside of that, he could think of little else. Was it any wonder she had taken her own life when he’d been so reluctant to see her as more?
He winced at how bad his words sounded, even as he spoke. “We were wed only three short years and, in that time, she never once ripened with child. One morning, I went to meet with several tenants, and when I returned, I was informed she had thrown herself from the cliffs.”
His throat was suddenly dry and the memory sat like a jagged stone in his chest. “Moiré was there when it happened and tried to stop her.”
Faye touched her fingertips to her mouth. “How horrible.”
Ewan drew in a deep sigh, but it didn’t alleviate the grip of his grief, his regret. “’Tis worse than even that.” He pulled his hand from Faye’s and stared at his creased palms. For how could he possibly look at her when making such a confession?
“All this time, I thought she’d done it because of her inability to conceive.” Ewan gave a mirthless laugh. “What a selfish fool I was. She did it…” He swallowed, hating the words before they even left his mouth. “Because I dinna show her that I cared for her. She felt unloved. Unwanted.” He gritted his teeth. “And she was unloved. By me. I dinna love her. I dinna ever take the time to.”
He lifted his gaze up hesitantly to gauge Faye’s reaction. She continued to gaze upon with him compassion and tenderness.
He couldn’t stand it and put his face into his hands. “I never loved her, and she took her own life because of it.”
Faye rose from her chair and came to him, setting her hands on his shoulders. “Most marriages do not have love. ’Tis not uncommon.”
“Most marriages dinna end in one person taking their own life,” he replied miserably, keenly aware of how his words slurred slightly. “I dinna want it to happen to ye.”
She knelt down in front of him so he could see her face. The fire in the hearth played shadows over her skin. “It won’t happen to me.”
He touched the petal softness of her skin. “I care for ye, Faye. Already so much more than I ever did for Lara, may both she and God forgive me.”
A flash of pain showed in her eyes. As soon as it was there, it was gone, blinked away and replaced with the coquettish smile that set his blood on fire. “Come to bed, lover. The hour is late.”
“Nay.”
She paused and tilted her head.
“Ye do this often.” He pointed an unsteady finger at her.
She blinked innocently. He knew better.
“Ye dinna trust me, Faye.” Saying the accusation aloud was more striking than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t planned to speak his mind on it at all, but the drink guided his words with no care for fault. “Ye choose passion over conversation.”
“Are ye truly complaining?” Her fingers crept up his thighs and brushed at his cock, which still stirred even in his foggy state.
He shifted in this seat, away from her touch. “I want to get to know ye, Faye. I want ye to trust me the way I’ve trusted ye with this painful admission tonight.” He ran the back of his thumb over the hand she’d tried to entice him with. “I want to love ye.”
Her eyes filled with tears. A single one spilled down her cheek like a dropped diamond. “I don’t want that.” She wiped at the moisture on her face. “I’m not like yer first wife, Ewan.”
He frowned, his thoughts sloshing in his mind. “What do ye mean?”
She stared up at him, resolve glittering in her eyes. “I don’t want to be loved.”
12
Faye woke alone in the large bed she had shared with Ewan since they were married. And for the first time, they had not spent the night coupling.
After she’d confessed her lack of desire to be loved, Ewan had refused to leave his chair, and she’d been forced to go to bed. Alone.
He had consumed a good bit of alcohol. That much had been evident in the slight slur of his words and the completeness of his confession.
She eased quietly from her bed
