“I’ll take the basket to the woman,” Margaret said, and picked it up.
Finn watched her carry it across the square to the church, exchange a few words with the woman, and coo over the babe. Before Margaret set the basket down, she slipped a small leather pouch out of it and hid the pouch inside her cloak. He was curious what was in it that she did not want him to see.
When they resumed walking through the town, Finn kept catching himself about to run his hand down her back or around her waist. It was only because he’d become accustomed to touching her on the boat—and lust, of course.
As they passed the townsfolk on the street, women gave them warm smiles, and men looked at him with envy, believing Margaret was his wife. It felt odd to have people look at them and think they belonged together, that they were a family. He would never be that man, the husband and father they saw.
Tomorrow they would reach Huntly Castle, and he’d be on his own again, as it should be.
As Finn set up camp in the growing darkness that night, he realized just how wrong he’d been to think his torture was over when they got off the boat. Having Margaret’s sweet bottom between his legs all day on the long ride was bad enough, but tonight would be worse.
He and Margaret would be alone all night, except for Ella—and Ella slept like the dead. Before they took the boat, Margaret was so uneasy around him that there was no risk of anything happening between them, but she had warmed toward himconsiderablysince then. Even if she wanted to, it would be wrong to roll around the blanket with her when she was his captive.
Wouldn’t it?
After supper, they sat side by side in front of the roaring campfire with Ella fast asleep on the blanket behind them. Tension sizzled between them hotter than the flames. It was not just him. Thesidelong looks Margaret gave himmade the air crackle. He was more than ready to give in to temptation, but he waited for her to make the first move.
And waited.
He sighed. Evidently, she did not wish to act on the attraction between them. While this was verra wise on her part, he hoped to God she changed her mind.
He remembered the wistfulness in her voice when she said she understood wanting a home. Naturally, she would miss being mistress of her own grand castle, but did the husband she lost still hold her heart? Was that what held her back?
“If ye don’t mind my asking, what happened to end your marriage?” There must be more to that story, for he could not imagine how her husband could leave her.
“I failed to give him an heir.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared into the fire. “Once my family fell from power as well, I was no use to him at all.”
What a sack of shite to leave her when she most needed protection.
“He said I was worse than useless,” she said softly. “I was a rope around his neck.”
“The cruel bastard! How could he say that to his wife?” Especially to a sweet lass like Margaret. Finn wanted to gut him with his dirk and leave him for the wolves to finish off.
“’Tis not so very different from what you said,” she said.
“What I said? I’d never—” Then he remembered comparing a wife to having an anchor tied to his neck. “The difference is I don’t have a wife. And if I did, I’d never say that to her.”
“Ye wouldn’t have to say it,” she murmured as she stared into the fire. “She’d know.”
“He had no excuse for mistreating ye like that,” Finn said, and rested his hand on her arm. The bloody idiot should have thanked his lucky stars to have such a woman.
“I put his lands and position in danger.” Margaret turned and gave him a sad smile. “So, ye see, he had no choice.”
Finn winced, for he’d used the same excuse of having no choice the night he took her from the cottage. She did not throw his words back to him in anger but with a sad resignation that made him feel worse. They sat in silence for a long while, but eventually his curiosity got the better of him.
“If ye lived together as man and wife for years,” Finn asked, “how could your husband obtain an annulment?”
“We’re third cousins, which is within the church’s prohibited degree ofconsanguinity.”
“But he must have known that before ye wed,” Finn said.
“Of course he did. Half the marriages among the nobility are the same.” She poked a stick into the fire. “Still, ’tis grounds for a nobleman who is wealthy and well connected to rid himself of a barren wife.”
A barren wife. If her husband believed that, then neither of them must have known she was with child when he abandoned her. And Finn had blamed her for not telling the bastard about Ella later.
“You’re well rid of the horse’s arse, but I’m sorry ye lost your home.” His words felt painfully inadequate.
“That was the least of what I lost,” she said in a faraway voice.