Chapter 24

Billie sank into the water with a content sigh, leaning back and closing her eyes.

She couldn’t stay in for too long, as she was running late, but she enjoyed it for the time being. Her mind drifted back to her family, wondering what they were doing that day. Her father and Cormac were probably trying to rally troops for Domnhall, and Abigail was perhaps back to flirting with the guards, much to Keira’s dismay. Billie hadn’t even had the chance to see Evangeline, and she could only hope that this enmity with Ferguson would be over soon, so she could finally visit her sister. She had missed her terribly, and Evangeline would surely need help with her birth and the baby.

A loud crash echoed in the room, the door suddenly swinging wide open on its hinges, startling Billie, who jumped, making water slosh over the rim of the tub. Panicked, she tried to cover her body with her hands.

When she saw it was Domnhall, she relaxed a little. He had surely come looking for her when she hadn’t showed up in his study.

Her relief didn’t last long, though. Domnhall’s face was bright red, his nostrils flaring as he glared at her. She could have sworn his entire body was vibrating with rage, his fury radiating off him in a way she hadn’t seen before.

“What’s wrong?” Billie asked, though her voice was barely audible. Domnhall either didn’t hear her or he ignored her as he marched into the room, looking under the bed, pulling back the covers, and searching into every nook and cranny; for what, Billie didn’t know.

“What are ye hidin’ from me?” Domnhall demanded. “I ken he was here, I saw him leave. I will find proof of it, even if ye are washing him off of ye in the bath.”

Billie had no idea what Domnhall was talking about. She could only watch as he moved like a madman around the room, not waiting for a response from her before he tore the rest of the place apart. Once her shock had subsided enough for her to move, she stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in clean linen to dry off, still watching as Domnhall continued his search.

“What are ye doin’, Domnhall?” Billie tried asking him once more, but once again, she was either not heard or ignored. She had to step in his way to stop him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He pushed it off him immediately.

“What did ye dae with Cameron?” Domnhall demanded.

“Cameron?” she asked, blinking a few times in confusion. Was he looking for Cameron? But why would he be looking for him in her old chambers? “I dinnae ken what ye are talking about. He just came by tae ask me a favor.”

“Och aye, I’m sure he has asked ye fer many favors,” said Domnhall. It seemed to Billie that with every passing moment, his skin turned a deeper shade of red, the rage painted clearly on his face.

He looked beyond her shoulder and his eyes rested on the folded letter on the table.

“I kenned it!” He shouted as he lunged at it, glancing at the first lines. “Me darlin’, light of me life, I am so in love with ye, I cannae get ye out of me thoughts or me heart… here is the proof!” He yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth.

He is angry because o’ the letter?

“How many times did ye spread yer legs fer him?”

The question was like a slap to the face. Billie stared at Domnhall, her mouth hanging wide open in shock. So that was what it was all about, all this searching, all this rage. Domnhall still thought there was something between her and Cameron, this foolish notion staying with him long after she had told him he was the only one for her, the only one she had ever even touched.

How can he still believe this? How can he still think I have betrayed him?

If anything, she was the one betrayed. If he thought so little of her as to believe she had slept with Cameron, then he had no respect for her, no idea of the kind of person she was.

“How can ye say this tae me?” Billie asked. A part of her was unable to believe Domnhall would be so cruel after all the tender moments they had had together. He had only created a false reality in his mind, one he was certain was real, and he didn’t care what anyone told him. He had already made up his mind that Billie was a woman without any decency, without any regard for him. “How can ye look me in the eye an’ accuse me o’ such a thing?”

“It isnae an accusation if it is true, is it?” Domnhall asked, shaking the letter in her face. He began to pace back and forth in the room, his gaze never leaving Billie. “Dinnae deny it. I have seen ye. I have seen ye an’ him together, how ye talk, how ye smile tae each other. I ken what ye’ve been doin’.”

“Ye ken naething,” Billie spat. “Ye are a fool, blinded by yer own jealousy. How can ye be so cruel tae me? How can ye claim tae believe me when I tell ye ye’re the only man who has ever touched me an’ then accuse me o’ betrayin’ ye?”

Billie’s voice trembled as she spoke, both from emotion and from the strain. She wanted nothing more than to shout at Domnhall, to try and get some sense into him, but all she could muster was a whisper, so quiet that she didn’t even know if he could hear everything, she told him.

“Ye deny it, then?” Domnhall asked. “Even when there is evidence?” he said, flapping the letter again.

“What evidence? A letter? It isnae even fer me! Read the whole thing afore accusin’ me unjustly, ye arse!”

Domnhall faltered at Billie’s demand. There was no concrete evidence against her, simply because she hadn’t done what he was accusing her of. She couldn’t understand how he was unable to see how foolish he was being, his rage and jealousy having no concrete source. Domnhall was usually a logical man. Billie could reason with him. He only seemed to lose his mind when it came to her, first trying to test her with silly challenges and now accusing her of something she had never done and would never consider doing.

“If ye wish tae ken the truth,” Billie said, walking up to Domnhall and staring at him through narrowed eyes, “Cameron came tae me tae help him with Abigail. The lad adores her. Every time ye saw us talkin’, it was about Abigail. Every time ye saw him smile, he was smilin’ because o’ her. He came here earlier tae ask me tae send her his letter. It is Abigail he loves, nae me. An’ if ye think I desire him or that I would hurt ye by sleepin’ with another man, then ye dinnae ken me at all. If ye wished tae anger me, ye have succeeded. I cannae believe ye’re such a jealous madman. Ye have been since the beginning.”

The words rushed out of Billie before she could stop them, but she had no desire to in the end. Domnhall needed to hear all this; he needed to hear how much he had hurt her with his accusations. Slowly, the color drained from his face and he lowered his gaze to the ground, unable to meet Billie’s own.

“This is the truth?” he asked.

Exasperated, Billie threw her hands in the air and walked away from him. She couldn’t be near him. She didn’t even want to look at him.

“It is,” she said. “But if ye wish tae believe otherwise, ye are free tae dae so. I told ye the truth. Whether ye believe it or nae is up tae ye.”

Domnhall remained quiet for a long time. Billie said nothing either, as she knew the only thing that would come out of her mouth in that moment would be insults and more accusations. When Domnhall finally spoke, he did so quietly, awkwardly.

“Fergive me. I… understand now I was in the wrong.”

It wasn’t enough for Billie, though. Domnhall couldn’t simply ask for her forgiveness after everything he had said to her and expect her to act as though nothing had happened. His words had been too hurtful, the damage already done.

“Leave,” she told him. “I dinnae wish tae see ye. I will sleep here tonight.”

“Billie—“

“Leave,” Billie repeated, her tone flat and emotionless. She was drained from their fight already. She didn’t want to deal with Domnhall any longer.

Still, he hesitated, perhaps thinking she would change her mind. In the end, when she neither spoke nor moved, he finally left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Only a few hours prior, Billie had been so happy to wake up next to Domnhall, to have his arms around her. She had thought they would spend a nice day together, just the two of them, away from all the stress Domnhall was under.

But his stress was no excuse and neither was his jealousy. Billie couldn’t think of a single thing he could do to win back her favor now, to prove to her that he trusted her and loved her as he claimed.

Still wrapped in the linen, Billie lay her head on the pillow, curling up on her side, her stomach churning with the memory of Domnhall’s accusations. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. As much as he had tried to humiliate her, she wouldn’t cry over him.

Domnhall walked up and down the corridors of the castle like a ghost haunting the place. He couldn’t sit still. He had tried it; he had tried going over his plans, he had tried distracting himself with his papers and his strategies, but nothing worked. He had even considered asking the servants for wine—lots of it—but decided against it at the last minute.

He refused to become his father. He wasn’t going to lose himself in the alcohol or try to forget what he had done.

He had to find a way to fix this, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t find a solution to it. It was true that he had accused Billie of something terrible, right after he had claimed to believe her, to believe she was innocent and pure. Had he ever believed it? How could he have let his jealousy blind him like this?

The sun fell below the horizon as he paced around the castle, the same thoughts swirling in his head over and over. He hadn’t eaten anything, his stomach tied in a million knots, making it impossible to even smell food without feeling nauseous. Outside the library he stumbled upon Hugo, coming out of the room with a book in his hand, looking surprised to see him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“What?” asked Domnhall. “I cannae visit me library?”

“Why aren’t you with Billie?”

Domnhall sighed, preparing himself to reveal everything to his friend. Before he could do so, though, it occurred to him that Hugo expected him to be with Billie, as though there had always been a plan for the night.

“What dae ye mean?”

“Weren’t ye supposed tae be in the kitchens with her?” Hugo asked. “She’s making you dinner…”

“Billie’s makin’ me dinner?”

It baffled him to hear that, especially since Billie was a terrible cook, according to her sister’s admission and her own. Besides, he doubted she was making him much of anything now after their argument. Why would she put the effort into making him dinner when she so clearly hated him—and rightfully so?

“She was supposed to, at least,” said Hugo with a small shrug. “Mrs. Campbell told me all about it. She was very excited to show her how to cook.”

Domnhall let out a heavy sigh, letting his eyes fall shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to push back the oncoming headache. He truly was a fool, though not for the reason he had originally thought.

“What is it?” Hugo asked, immediately sensing that something was wrong. “What did you do?”

Though it was a fair assessment, Domnhall still glared at his friend from the corner of his eye. He took a deep, steadying breath, knowing that sooner or later, he would have to admit what he had done. Hugo was perhaps the only one who could help him fix this.

“I accused Billie o’ sleepin’ with Cameron,” he said, his voice weighed with shame. “I saw him leavin’ her old chambers and found her there in the bath after I kicked the door open.”

Hugo stared at Domnhall in shock, much like Billie had done when he hurled his accusations at her. He covered his gaping mouth with a hand, shaking his head in disappointment, as if he couldn’t believe his own ears.

“And I guess he wasn’t in there,” Hugo said.

“O’ course he wasnae,” said Domnhall. “She was alone, havin’ a bath, but I found a love letter from him on the table. By the time she told me it was fer her sister, it was too late. We argued an’ I… I said some terrible things tae her. I dinnae ken how she will ever forgive me.”

Domnhall had never seen Hugo so disappointed in him before. The way he looked at him opened up a pit in Domnhall’s stomach, shame pooling deep in his gut. He could hardly stand to look at him when he regarded him with such displeasure, though the concern was palpable under the disappointment, blunting the sharpness of his gaze.

“Domnhall… you must change your ways and do anything you can to show her how much you regret it,” said Hugo. “Otherwise, you will lose her. She can’t leave you now that she’s married to you, but it doesn’t mean she won’t do anything in her power to keep you away from her.”

Domnhall considered the possibility of Billie never forgiving him, of running away back to her father, to her family. Though they would still be married, it wouldn’t be unheard of for a wife to leave her tyrannical husband like this, especially when Domnhall was certain Laird Robertson would welcome her back with open arms. He wasn’t the kind of man to force his daughter to stay with her husband if he was cruel to her. If anything, perhaps the man would even find a way to get rid of Domnhall for good if he thought there was no other choice.

It was a possibility he couldn’t bear. He couldn’t even imagine a future without her, a future in which she was his wife only in name.

“Ye’re right,” he told Hugo, nodding. “O’ course ye are. I’ll… ach, I dinnae ken what I’ll dae. But I’ll win her back. I promise.”

He would do anything she asked of him, anything it would take for Billie to forgive him. He didn’t care how long it would take or what he would have to do. The only thing that mattered to him was keeping her by his side.