“I’ll not forgive him,” Cam finally blurted.
“But you’ve forgiven me, and I’m the one who forced him into it.” It wasn’t fair that Lachlan should be punished for respecting her wishes.
“You’re wrong,” he seethed, not looking at her.
“It was me that went to Lachlan and asked him to escort me to the English when it was clear there was no other ch—”
Cam’s fist slammed down on the table, causing the dishes to rattle and Mari to jump. “I dinna say ye were wrong about coercing my cousin into going along with your piss-poor plan. I’m saying you’re wrong about me forgiving you. I haven’t.”
With that, he rose from the table and left the room.
She sat there in shock, expecting that her kind, gentle husband would return and apologize for his outburst, but he didn’t.
Instead, she heard the front door slam.
She rested her hand on her belly to comfort their child, who had shifted when she’d startled.
“It’s fine, little one. He’s just upset. He’ll be back.”
He’d been here for months and not once mentioned he still held anger over her role in her return to London.
She knew well what he was doing. He was building walls between them to protect himself. Distancing himself in a futile attempt to avoid the pain when the time came.
Part of her wanted to go to him and tear down those walls. Force him to let her in. But another part of her felt relieved, because those walls he built would serve to protect her as well. They didn’t have much time left. Only a few weeks before the bairn arrived, and then the trial would begin.
It was late when Cam arrived home. She was already in bed, but she hadn’t slept, and not just because the June heat made her restless and uncomfortable. She had not yet figured out what to say to him.
All these months, they’d walked side by side and hand in hand on a layer of ice. They’d been kind and gentle with one another so as not to break through the surface and face the frigid cold beneath.
It was time they confronted the truth. She just didn’t know how to begin.
Cam’s skin was warm and damp when he slid into bed and pulled her close. “I know you’re awake. You’re not snoring.” His attempt at humor didn’t work this time. They couldn’t laugh this off any longer. He let out a breath and kissed her neck. “I’m sorry for what I said, and for scaring you.”
“Then you have forgiven me?” she asked to see if he’d lie. They’d get nowhere if they couldn’t speak the truth, as ugly as it may be.
“Nay. But I hadn’t realized until it came out of my mouth. That wasn’t the way to address the subject.”
“I’m glad you’re finally speaking of your feelings. It does no good to let them fester and become worse.”
“I don’t want to spend our final days angry with one another. But I am angry at you, Mari. And I canna even tell ye why.”
“For leaving you.”
“Aye, but I know why you did it. I gave you and Lach hell, but I would have done the same in your place. Still…”
“I left you.”
“Yes. And you’ll be doing it again sooner than we realize, and I hate you for it. I’ll be alone again.” He clung to her and kissed her hair. “I love you so much. You’re my very soul.”
His words filled her with both joy and sadness. He’d never said these things before. Hadn’t wanted these feelings between them. But they had grown despite their mutual desire not to become attached.
She entwined her fingers with his over their child. “You’ll not be alone this time. Our child will be with you.”
“I’ve never been so eager for something yet feared it so deeply.”
“I think that is true of all fathers.”
He let out a deep breath and squeezed her closer. “When my father left me, I blamed him for not being a better warrior. For falling in battle because he’d not trained hard enough. When my mother left me, I grew angry because she’d given in to her loneliness. When you go, I don’t want to feel that way about you. I want to hold on to the love I feel for you and the joy I know in your arms. But I fear I’m not strong enough to do so. Hate and anger are easier.”
“Do you still hate your parents for leaving you?”
“Nay. In time I realized it was the way of things.”
Such realizations came with age and maturity.
“Then perhaps, in time, you’ll be able to put your anger aside and think well of me, too.”
…
When Mari was asleep, Cam slipped out of their bed to go to the library for a drink. His mind wouldn’t still, and his heart grew more frantic with every tick of the clock.
He loved his wife.
He’d known it. It was the thing that had driven him to tear off for London to try and save her. But he hadn’t said as much. He hadn’t admitted to her how he felt until now.
He poured a whisky and sat in the dark. He was well into his fourth glass when a ghost appeared before him. He jumped, then realized it was the dowager in a flowing night robe. Surely a specter wouldn’t look so displeased.
“You’re drinking all the good whisky in the house,” she accused.
“Aye,” he answered, noticing his tongue felt a bit numb. “It’s almost as good as the MacKinlay stores.”
She sniffed at that and sat next to him. “Why are you drinking? Mari could have the child any day now. You should be alert and ready.”
He nodded, but his nod turned into a sway of his head the other way. “As soon as the babe is born, she’ll be taken. And—” A sob broke free and he hung his head. “I wish to be hardened like you. My own mother was weak and succumbed to the pain of her broken heart,
