“She’s my wife.” Cam stated the fact firmly. Defending it with a glare.
“You said yourself, you don’t even know the lass. What do you care if it’s Marian Fletcher or Dorian McCurdy? A wife is a wife to ye.”
“It’s Marian Fletcher MacKinlay, and it will stay that way. I’ll sign no annulment.”
Lach’s eyes went wide with surprise. He looked toward the gate in confusion. “She’s bonny enough, but have you become besotted with the lass on the trip back to the castle?”
“Of course not. I’m the war chief.” War chiefs didn’t become besotted—at least successful ones didn’t. They needed to be focused. There was no time for the dealings of a wife when there were men to be trained and plans to be laid.
Lach sniffed. “You think a war chief canna be besotted with a lass? I remember your da looking googly-eyed at your ma.”
“Aye. And it made him weak.”
“You think me weak for loving my wife and children?” Lach asked.
“Nay.” Cameron looked away. He hadn’t meant to offend his cousin. It had been the opposite for Lach. He’d gained many things with his union to Kenna. “It’s different for me. A war chief is expected to take risks and make decisions to protect this clan. I can’t do the duty justice if I’m worried over getting myself skewered and bringing sadness to a wife.”
“I see.” Lach frowned.
He didn’t see. He couldn’t. He hadn’t witnessed the grief and melancholy that took over a wife when she’d lost her love.
“It appears the duty of being war chief is in truth a curse. If you never allow yourself to love anyone within these walls, what drives you to protect it with your life?” Lach asked, his head cocked to one side. For once in the bloody conversation, Cam didn’t feel his laird was mocking him.
It was easy to speak his answer. “Honor.”
Cam hadn’t wanted to marry, but now he was wed and he would honor his vows, spoken purposefully or no. The best he could do was make sure he and Mari didn’t fall in love. He wasn’t at risk for such things, and Mari had been wed to a monster. It was clear she wanted no part of a true marriage.
This union would be perfect for both of them. They would protect each other from the things they didn’t want. And have all the freedoms they desired.
“I’ll not have an annulment,” Cam repeated and walked away.
…
Marian chastised herself for spilling everything to Kenna in one sitting. Her pregnant sister was still pale from hearing the tale of how Marian came to be sitting in a tub in Dunardry Castle.
The water had long gone cold when she’d finally finished her story.
Kenna dashed a tear from her cheek and offered a watery smile. “Your poor skin must be wrinkled. Let’s get ye out of there before you become chilled.”
Forgetting herself in the comfort of their reunion, Marian had stood. It wasn’t until Kenna gasped that she realized what she’d revealed.
Fresh tears filled Kenna’s eyes. It wasn’t normal for her sister to cry, and Marian accounted it to the emotions brought on by pregnancy.
Pressing her lips together as if to steel herself, Kenna handed over a linen so Marian could dry her scarred skin. “You are safe now, sister. No harm will ever come to you as long as you are here.”
Marian trembled at her sister’s vehemence and allowed herself to relax.
Kenna helped her with her hair, pausing briefly upon seeing the scar across Marian’s face. She frowned and continued brushing. “I can’t help but become furious every time I see your scars. I wish the man was alive so I could kill him with my bare hands for what he did to ye.”
Marian smiled. “I thank you for your allegiance; however, I would not see you anywhere near that man.”
“Why didn’t you write to tell me? I would have sent a dozen warriors to retrieve you.”
Coming from another’s lips, it might have sounded like an empty promise. But Marian could tell her sister wasn’t wasting her words.
“I did write to you, but you never wrote back.” Marian somehow managed to keep the accusation and hurt out of her voice. Kenna froze and looked at Marian in the mirror. “I understand. You have a busy life here as the laird’s wife.” Marian glanced away.
Kenna dropped onto the bench beside her and took her hand. “Marian, I wrote to you nearly every week for years. And only finally gave up when the boys were born and I was truly too busy. You never answered my letters, but still I kept writing, hoping you’d tell me how you fared. I thought ye hated me still.”
“Hated you? Never have I hated you.”
“When I ruined your dress.”
“Oh, Kenna. I was angry with your recklessness, but I have always loved you. You are my sister. It’s natural to pester one another, but under that is love, always.” Marian cleared her throat. “I must apologize, for it seems my husband did us both a disservice by interrupting our correspondence. For I wrote to you, begging you to answer. I was alone in London, and despite all the training, I was an outcast. A barbaric heathen from the north. And when dinner or tea was over and my rudimentary upbringing disgraced my husband, he made his displeasure at my existence quite clear.”
Kenna wrapped her arms around Marian and squeezed tight. At the odd angle, they were able to cling to each other closely.
“We shall have time now to share all the words in those letters. That bloody cod might have stolen a few years from us, but we will not let him destroy our bond. He canna.”
Marian smiled at Kenna’s intensity. “I will like that very much.”
Kenna stood and took up fixing Marian’s hair again. “You’ll be happy here. I know it. The clan is filled with good people. I have a lot of friends here. I’ll introduce you to them. And your husband is second in command of the clan.
