Seducing the Highlander (35 page)

Meriel blinked back her tears, incredulous that Craig actually had the nerve to say—albeit indirectly—that he was busier than she was. He might as well have just come out and said that all things to do with the cottage were her responsibility simply because she was a woman! How did a simple promise to love him and live with him translate into being his servant? She knew that other wives did the cooking and cleaning, but they also did not work outside the home. Those who did usually had older children to help, and as a
family
they addressed everyone’s needs. Well, right now their family consisted of her and him. And he did not have the sole right to the title of “busy.”

“It must have escaped your notice, but my day is just as hard and demanding, Craig,” Meriel said through tight lips. “Being married to you did not absolve me of my prior clan duties. I am still responsible for directing and assigning all the sewing and weaving that is needed to support not just Caireoch, but this clan. Winter is coming, and daily I have to go to the castle and answer questions, give directions, and even sit down and help. Right now there is more to do than people to do it. And yet I
still
came home and made
you
dinner.”

Her ending snarl was like a slap in the face. Craig leaned in so that she would have no trouble seeing just how blazingly furious he was. He pointed to the nearly full bowl. “That was many things. But it was definitely
not dinner
.”

Meriel was flabbergasted that he was so furious that she had failed at her attempt to prepare a meal. “I did what the cook told me to do! At least I thought I did. How was I to know? I’ve never
cooked
before!”

Craig went still. “What do you mean, you’ve
never
cooked before? I distinctly remember you and Hamish sharing what looked to be an extremely tasty meal that
you
prepared.”

Meriel looked bewildered until she finally recalled to just what Craig was referring. “You cannot possibly believe I had anything to do with what we ate that night.”

“You promised that you would do the cooking!”

“I did not promise. I said something about the idea being interesting, knowing what would happen—disaster. But you
know
I have never spent any time in the kitchens. Not to mention that there was no possibility of Fiona letting me anywhere near her haven in a cooking capacity, and I don’t blame her.”

Craig shook his head. His face was a dull shade of red. “I saw you that afternoon—in the kitchens with Fiona—preparing the meal you and Hamish enjoyed. And what you and he shared was not this dark mystery that even a dog would refuse.”

Meriel felt her temper start to flare again at the insult. “Of
course
you did. I needed you to
think
I was cooking for him.”

An appalling silence filled the air for several long seconds. Through an extraordinary act of will, Craig managed to quash his rage and regain his self-control. Meriel
had
manipulated him. She knew it was one of the few things he abhorred, and that she had intentionally done so to him was not to be born.

He rose to his feet. To avoid her, he pivoted and marched around the table the long way, which was also the most cluttered pathway to exit the cottage. By the time he reached the door, he had tripped and nearly fallen twice. “I cannot and will not live like this, Meriel.”

He slammed the door shut, leaving her to stare at nothing but empty space.
Well, neither can I
, Meriel said to herself. Craig might have had expectations as to what married life would be like, but so had she. And in her mind, so far
she
was the only one doing the compromising, trying to make things work.

Meriel grabbed a blanket and opened the door, knowing her father and her sister would welcome her home with open arms if she went to them. But there would be consequences to such an action. It would change her father’s relationship with Craig. Crevan would be caught between defending his brother and dealing with his wife, for Meriel had no doubt that Raelynd would be on her side, even if Meriel was in the wrong. She and Craig would eventually get past their anger, but it did not necessarily follow that her family would as well.

Meriel stopped and turned around. She could not do it. She could not potentially hurt her marriage, her sister’s, or even risk the clan losing a much-needed commander, over a fight. This was the life she chose and she refused to run away from it. She would stay, and when Craig returned it was going to be her turn to say a few things about how she could and could not live.

Turning around to face the evidence of her afternoon from hell, Meriel went and dumped the contents of the bowl back into the pot and began cleaning the mess of feathers and flour. When she was done, she carried the pot outside the village and dumped its contents. She then headed to the river, deciding she would rather freeze by bathing in the chilly currents than carry water back and warm it for a bath. After freeing her hair from the grime of her cooking attempts, Meriel donned her chemise, but she was unwilling to wear the filthy gown. Wrapped in a blanket, she snuck back to the cottage, glad it was dark so she had avoided the few people who were moving about the village.

 

 

Craig took both ends of his sopping wet leine and began to twist it in an effort to wring as much water from it as possible. He did not believe that just swimming while wearing the garment would render it clean—but it had to help some, if only with the stench. And while he did feel better physically, the absence of filth had not improved his mood even slightly.

Pulling the damp shirt over his head, he began to walk along the river’s shoreline, kicking rocks periodically in a futile effort to relieve some of his frustration. A shiver went through him, which only fueled his anger. He hated being wet and cold. Somehow the combination always seemed to make his skin overly sensitive. That he was swimming at this time of year, and at night, he blamed on Meriel. If she had just done what all wives did for their husbands, he would be home, warm and comfortable!

Shoving his freezing hands underneath his arms, Craig veered away from the shoreline and began heading back. He had meant it when he said that he could not continue to live as they had been. Something had to change.

He arrived at the door and took a deep breath before entering. Nudging it open, he could see that clutter was still everywhere, but the cooking area had been cleaned and all the evidence of the dinner and its preparation had been removed. Craig walked over to the pile of dirty clothes and grabbed a dry leine. He sniffed it and decided that it was better than being cold.

Changing shirts was a quiet activity, but he had made as much noise as possible, so she had to know he had returned. When Meriel did not appear, he let go a frustrated sigh and began to make his way to the back of the cottage. He was unsure what he was going to say once he found Meriel, and half hoped that she would start the conversation. He only knew that he was
not
going to start with an apology, nor was he going to gather her in his arms and tell her how appreciative he was of her cleaning efforts—despite how very much he was.

Craig peeked into the bedroom but could see nothing. Picking up the one lit candle, which had burned down to nearly nothing, Craig brought it into the bedchamber and lifted it high. Meriel was not there. She was not anywhere in the cottage. It had not occurred to him that she would flee back to her room in the castle, but she had. Pivoting, he put the candle back and marched angrily out the door. Had she not heard him last night? Had she not understood? They were married, and he did not care how angry either one or both of them were, they were going to sleep together every night and in the same bed! If she did not understand his meaning before, she certainly would once he was done.

Craig knew his facial expression reflected at least some of the anger he felt as he passed through the gatehouse. Normally the guards would have waved or shouted out an acknowledgment. But not tonight. As soon as both men saw Craig, they decided to pretend they had not. And he was thankful. Turning sharply to the right, he headed to the tower stairwell that led to the room she had shared with her sister, assuming he’d find her there.

When he entered the empty and clearly unused room, Craig felt his anger rise even higher. He immediately stormed back down the stairs and toward the Great Hall, fully expecting to find Meriel commiserating with her sister, blaming him for every fierce word they had shared. But again, he found no one inside. Turning around, he went back to the keep and spoke to the guard on duty, only to learn that his brother, Raelynd, and the laird had all retired for the night some time ago. Nothing of Meriel.

For the first time since leaving the cottage, an emotion other than anger was consuming him. With both hands, Craig roughly raked his fingers along his scalp in an effort to help him think. If she was not in the cottage or at the castle, where would Meriel be? Though not something she had ever done before, it was possible she was out looking for him. Or maybe she decided that she needed to go for a walk and think as well.

Craig looked up at the night sky, which was getting increasingly dark. When he had left, the moon had just passed its apex. Now it was nearly gone. Walking at night was always somewhat dangerous, but soon it would be very much so. As he envisioned the dangers Meriel could face, fear swept through him. He increased the speed of his gait and headed back to the cottage to grab a torch and a blanket.

Upon entering, he knew immediately that Meriel had returned. The candle was out, but the hearth had been stoked and was now brighter than it had been. Though he could not see her directly, the firelight created a shadow of her form, curled up in one of the chairs. He closed the door, but the ghostly figure flickering on the wall did not move. Craig walked over to Meriel and confirmed that she had fallen asleep.

He stared at his wife for several minutes, love for her filling every pore of his being. They were having problems, aye, but all problems had solutions. One just needed to look hard enough to find them.

Smoothing back her hair, Craig could see dried tear tracks on her cheeks and he could feel his chest tighten. He had not been alone in his distress, but his thoughts for the past couple of hours had been focused solely on himself. Not her. He had not realized how busy she still was supporting her father and the castle. And though it was a complete failure, she
had
tried cooking dinner. Most girls grew up with their mothers teaching them how to be wives. Meriel’s mother died when she was young. Maybe he simply needed to be a little more patient as she learned how to take care of a home and husband.

Sliding his arm underneath her, he carefully picked Meriel up and sat her on his lap, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He softly combed his fingers through her hair and smiled as he felt the damp tresses. He had been a fool to think she had run back home to the castle. His comments about her appearance must have inspired her to take a bath, just as her remarks about his body odor had driven him to the river for a quick dip.

Craig kissed her temple. A small moan escaped Meriel as she nestled closer to him. The small gesture helped release the remaining tension in his body. She needed him. He needed her. They had each other, and as long as they did, everything else could be resolved in time.

Meriel stirred. Her brows furrowed into a deep scowl, as if she were having a bad dream. Stroking her cheek, he whispered that all was fine. That he was there now and would not let anything happen to her.

At the sound of his voice, Meriel began to shift from her dream world to reality. She was sitting on Craig’s lap—a place she did not want to be, though she could not recall why. As her last thoughts and his departing insults began to crystallize, she remembered exactly what he had said. And while she had wanted Craig to come home, she did not intend to let him smother her with kisses and lovemaking to gain her goodwill.
She
would not be complying with all of
his
suggestions. This time, he was going to have to exert some effort into making this marriage work as well.

Pushing against his chest, Meriel attempted to get up, but Craig’s arms tightened, keeping her in place. The fact that he not only could, but would force her to his will, made her feel nauseated for the umpteenth time that day. She thought about trying again to put some distance between them, but knowing the effort would be pointless, she sagged against his chest and began to cry. Tears slowly found their way down her cheeks using previously defined paths, and once again Meriel found herself getting mad that she was weeping when she had every right to be angry.

“Shhh, there, love,” Craig whispered against her ear. “Don’t worry about the food.”

Meriel blinked. Her throat swelled up and she thought she might choke.
Did Craig actually think she was crying about her inability to cook dinner?
The man had lost his mind if he thought that she cared about her skills, or lack of them, in the kitchen. “I’m not crying about the food,” she sniveled, angry again that her voice sounded meek and pathetic and nothing like the tone of her inner dialogue.

“Then what is it that has you so upset?”

Meriel hesitated. Part of her thought that if Craig had to ask, then what was the point of telling him? But she was not crying for one reason alone. Her days were filled with unceasing work. There was no time for her to enjoy any of her pastimes and she felt like everybody was clamoring to get a piece of her. She was doing her best, but it still did not seem to be good enough. “You’ll tell me that I am being ridiculous.”

“I promise I will not.”

Meriel yawned. “I don’t know how to explain it. Mostly, I’m tired all the time. It takes me forever to find energy in the morning and all of it is wasted on carrying water from the well. The other women have seen me struggle, and I know they are sympathetic, but they are busy with their own lives. By the time I am done getting ready for the day, all I want to do is lie down, and yet I have no time, for the weavers are waiting for me to get down to the castle.”