Mysty McPartland (14 page)

“
Yes you’ve been a fool and much more, but I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive you for this or for your treatment of me last night. Now just leave me alone. I cannot bear the sight of you a second more.” Trista whispered and quickly turned her head away missing the anguish that dulled his eyes.

Though he knew it would probably only infuriate her further and make her loath him even more, he refused to listen to her request for him to leave. He lifted the damp cloth away and tossed on the table.

It was a struggle to remove her clothing without hurting her further. When he stripped away the last garment, he covered her with the sheet. He turned away and strode out the door; he left his wife with a heavy heart and weighty steps.

As he sat in the hall wai
ting for the tray of food he requested, he knew that his own clan was unhappy and disappointed in him. Even his own brother refused to speak to him. If it had been any one but his wife who defied him, they would not have cared.

When Mary c
ame forward and handed him the tray of food, she looked at him sadly before she left. Damn, he was going to have to win back the respect of his clan as well as his wife and brother. But how he was going to do it he didn’t have a clue.

The first and most important
person he needed to regain respect from, he decided, was his wife. Entering their bedroom, he placed the tray in the middle of the bed and sat down on the edge. “I’ve bought ye some food, lass.”

Trista turned her head and stared up at her husband with blank eyes, but said naught.

Carefully searching her face, he saw nothing but emptiness in her lovely grey eyes. Reaching out, he brushed the hair from her brow and ignoring her flinching away, spoke softly. “Why did ye fight me, Trista? Ye must ken that hurting ye I hurt myself.”

“
I’m glad that you’re suffering as well for you deserve to.” She whispered harshly.

“
Neither of us would be hurting, sweet, if ye but told me what I wanted to ken.” He said quietly.

“Go to hell almighty Laird.”
She spat out bitterly.

“
I already have, lass, I already have.” He dropped his hand away from her face and picking up a piece of cold mutton, he placed it against her lips. “Eat. Ye must keep up ye strength if ye are to hate me.” Pleased when she ate, he fed her more until most of the food on the tray was gone.

He picked
it up and placed it on the table by the bed. He turned back to her. She was still laying, staring at him with cold blank eyes and pain gripped his heart. Standing up and moving away, going in search of her brush and ribbon.

Finding them easily, he quickly returned, this
time sitting down on the opposite side next to his wife and reaching for her mass of black hair, gathered it up and started to brush it.

“Leave me alone.”
She hissed furiously and clenched her jaw when he refused to listen to her.

Ignoring her angry request, he sighed sadly. “Nay, lass, I cannae leave ye alone. Dinnae even ask it.”

To stop the angry retort, she gritting her teeth and squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the tears that threatened to fall. As she fought against his kindness, her heart wept in anguish.

“
Ye have beautiful hair, my sweet.” He said as he bought it up to his face and rubbing it against his cheek. He took a deep breath through his nostrils smelling the soft scent of wild flowers. “Aye it even smells as lovely as it looks.”

She tried to pull her hair away from his hold, but couldn’t and lay fuming with impotent rage.

“Hold still
, lass. Let me braid ye hair and afterwards I will rub some ointment into ye back.” Making short work of his task, he reached for the jar of salve on the table by the bed. He lifted the sheet off her back down to her hips, unscrewed the lid and scooped out the cream.

W
ith tenderness, he applied the ointment to the welts. Grateful at seeing that the redness and swelling were not as bad as they were earlier, he gave a heartfelt sigh. He noticed that she held herself stiffly every time he touched her and was overwhelmed with sorrow by the time he finished.

H
e leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck softly. With care, he lifted the sheet over her, but his hand remained on her shoulder and caressed it. When he felt her shudder, removed his hand and standing up, he sighed.

Going around to the other side of the bed, he started to disrobe. Now naked, he pulled back the covers and went around the room blowing out the candles, before he climbed into bed. He knew his wife wanted to tell him to leave, but held her tongue.

Silently she fumed. All she wanted to scream at him to leave yet, she knew he wouldn’t so bit the inside of her mouth to stop the words exploding out of her. She turned her head away and prayed for sleep, hoping that he would be gone in the morning when she woke.

All night he lay awake reliving the nightmares of the last few days. He’d acted like an animal, a despicable beast. He practically raped his wife, he realized and the very next day he takes a whip and beats her. He was sickened to his very soul over what he had done.

N
ow as he lay in the early morning light staring at her, wondered if she would ever forgive him or if he could ever forgive himself! Maybe, if he went away for a few days, she would somehow get over some of her pain and hurt if he wasn’t around to remind her.

He would go and see Devena and find out the truth of her pregnancy, his mind made up he moved across the bed to his wife's side. He so much wanted to hold her tightly in his embrace, but even if her back wasn’t hurting, knew that she would not welcome his arms around her.

Warily r
eaching out, he stroked her head and leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck, ignoring the stiffening of her body. “I will be away for several days, lass. And I hope when I return ye will find some forgiveness in ye heart for me.”

When the mattress dipped and she felt his weight next to hers, she held her breath. She stiffened at his touch and his lips on her skin and turned to face him when he finished speaking. She could see the guilt and pain in his eyes, but refused to let herself feel anything. “Do you think I could ever forgive you for raping me and doing those perverse things to me? Or for whipping me?” She laughed harshly when she saw him cringe. “I will never forgive you, never.”

The raw anguish gripped his heart with each word she spoke and they struck deadly blows to his soul. He knew he deserved the anger and contempt she felt for him. What he hoped for was some measure of understanding. “I ken I deserve ye hate and wrath, Trista, but ye cannae keep on defying me. I hope in time that ye will one day find forgiveness in ye heart for me.”

He leaned down and brushed
her lips tenderly with his own, before she could move her head away. He rolled away and climbed out of the bed. “I will have water fetched for ye a bath and help ye bathe.”

“Why can’t get it into your thick head I do not want your help. And as forgiving you never. You Black Warlock can join Satan in the pits of hell for all I care.” She screeched at him, seeing his pain filled gaze she turned away. She would not let herself be taken in by him again and even though her heart was weeping she refused to acknowledge how much he had hurt her.

Disregarding her angry refusal, he dressed quickly and left the room. After ordering the water once the servants arrived and left, he saw to his personal needs and came back into the bedroom to find his wife’s eyes blazing with anger, which he refused to acknowledge. He drew the sheet from her body and as tenderly as he could, he lifted her in his arms making sure he did not hurt her back.

“Dinna
e struggle, lass.” He spoke softly as he carried her to the bathing room and setting her on her feet, he smiled down at her. “I will be back in a few minutes to help ye bathe.” Turning away, he left her alone and stood staring out the window.

             
Chapter Thirteen

Quickly seeing to her personal needs
, Trista climbed gingerly into the bath, biting her lower lip from the agony it caused. Sitting down, she reached for the washcloth and soap. She only just started to draw the cloth across her breasts, when Rieph came back into the room.

Through narrowed furious eyes she watched him climb
in the tub and now sat facing her. She tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere to go and so she glared at him.

Quickly taking the soapy cloth from her hands, he gently washed his wife's beautiful breast and felt himself growing aroused. He refused to acknowledge his rising passion and concentrated on washing her.

I
t was hard, damn hard, and he knew that she recognized how he was feeling by the worry glowing in her eyes. “Turn around, lass.” His breathing heavy and his voice soft. He saw her hesitate, but with a reluctant sigh, she finally did what he asked after a few seconds.

Gently as he could he ran the soapy cloth over her back and saw her recoil a few times. When he finished, he reached over her shoulder and dropped the cloth in front of her. “My turn, sweet.” He turned around; ignoring the hiss he heard and waited for her to wash him.

Defiantly grabbing the washcloth, she sneered out her rage, she glanced over her shoulder and saw his broad muscular shoulders. She turned around and snarling, she threw the cloth at him hitting him squarely in the middle of his large, powerful torso. She was about to stand up, but his hand lifted and grasped her arm.

Disappointment
tightened his chest when something wet slapped at his back. Half turned, he caught hold of his wife and stared up at her. “Tis only a simple thing I ask of ye, lass. Why do ye have to continue to defy me?” He shook his head and sighed when he saw her chin come up, running a hand through his hair, he let go of her arm.

“All right if ye wannae to get out, do so.” Picking up the cloth, he soaped it up and begun to scrub his chest. When she did not rise to leave the bath, He glanced over at her and noticed the slight flush on her face. Their eyes clashed and before he could read the message in hers, she quickly jumped up and stepped out of the tub.

Ashamed of herself n
ot knowing how it could have happened, much to her horror she had felt the fire course through her body and the heat pool between her thighs. How could this be happening after all that he had done to her? Only wanting to escape, she quickly fled the bathing room before he could see what was starting to grow inside her.

A heavy breath of sadness eased out while he watched her hastily wrap a towel around herself before she fled the room. Could he have possibly seen what he thought he saw? Or was he just hoping to see agony and contempt turn to longing and passion. Shaking his head, no, he must have been mistaken or more like hoping, he thought sadly.

F
inishing his bath, he dressed and walked back into the bedchamber he found his wife sitting at one of the window seat, dressed in a loose white nightgown. Settling himself down beside her, he took on of her hands in his large ones. “I will have a tray sent up for us and once we have eaten I will be leaving. I willnae be back for several days. I want ye to think long and hard, lass, if we are to have any peace in our marriage, it will be up to ye.” Before she could avoid his mouth, he leaned down and brushed hers tenderly, with one final glance at her, he stood up and left.

From beneath her lashes,
she watched him leave and snorted. She knew it was pointless to try and stop him from touching her or even from letting him speak. She was furious over his words. She was not the one that caused the rift between them. Nor was she the one who cruelly and coldheartedly destroyed their marriage.

At hearing the sound of the door closing behind him, she frowned. She wondered, what would become of their lives now and what sort of future would they have? She doubted their marriage could even survive. And did she really want to do anything to fix things between them? Thankfully with him leaving it would give her time to think things over. She knew whatever she decided would set the course for the rest of their lives.

****

Riding up to the McCrawley keep, Rieph and his men dismounted and shook the laird’s hand.

McCrawley was surprised to see the laird McKay and by the look of his harsh features knew that it was a serious matter and he wondered if it also could have something to do with his Sassenach wife. It was already over the Highlands that the young man beat her for defying him. “What brings ye here, Laird McKay?”

Not in the best of moods and frowning over at the older man, he thought of the best way to approach the subject. “As ye well ken I was ordered by the king to marry an English lass.”