Chapter Ten

G envieve floated toward the bright white light, a sense of peace surrounding her, easing the stabbing pain in her lungs and brutal pounding in her head. She heard a familiar voice calling to her— Francois! As she opened her mouth to call out to him, she felt herself being flung on her stomach and pummeled on her back. Strange words rained over her head. The bright white light faded along with her husband’s words, ’Tis not yet time.

*

“Damn yer eyes!” MacInness cursed. “Breathe.”

MacInness straddled Genvieve, pressing down again and trying to force the rest of the lake water up and out of her.

“Dinna think to take the coward’s way out, lass. I wilna let ye.”

Her body jerked beneath him. “That’s it,” he coaxed, moving off of her. While her body rid itself of seemingly gallons of lake water, he held her. When the convulsions began to slow down, he pulled her closer, hoping that all that was left were the spasms of a body that had borne far more than it should have to.

Holding her wet body against his, he felt the spasms beginning to lessen. His body trembled when she finally settled down. Breathing deeply, he wished he knew what to do with her. God help him, he didn’t want to marry. Couldn’t in good conscience marry when his heart still yearned for another.

“What am I goin’ to do with ye, lass?”

He brushed tangled damp strands of ebony hair off her face. She shifted and he moaned when she nuzzled against his palm. He thought of the promised holding and taking Genvieve to wife and knew it would be a mistake. His heart belonged to another.

He drew her close and felt the strong echo of her heart pounding in rhythm with his own. He cared for the lass and recognized the depth of that caring when he saw her struggling to free herself from the weed-choked water off the west shore of the lake. But he didn’t love her.

He slowly stood, the precious burden in his arms achingly familiar. “Hang on, lass,” he rasped. “’Tis just through the wood.”

This time his grip did not slacken. Though exhausted from the eerie battle fought beneath the surface of the lake against deadly weeds, and then expelling the lake water from her body, he was more than ready to walk back through the woods across the clearing to the keep.

One thought after another plagued him as his steady stride brought them closer to the small postern gate. Had she left it open so that he would follow her? Had she meant to get so tangled up in the lake bottom and weeds? Would she rather face death itself than pledge her life to him or was it his refusal to marry her?

“MacInness!” The familiar sound of Patrick’s voice stopped him short. Before he had taken three steps, his vassal was at his side.

The man who had willingly pledged his sword arm nearly a dozen years ago laid a hand on his arm. MacInness met Patrick’s searching gaze, shook his head slightly, knowing his friend would understand his need for silence. Too many emotions tangled up inside him all at once.

Patrick reached across the space between them and touched a hand to her neck. After a moment, he looked at MacInness. “She’s alive, then.”

MacInness nodded and kept walking. He had to get her back to her bedchamber and in front of a fire. The risk of lung fever was great.

“Was she alone?”

Patrick’s question was the first one MacInness had asked himself when he first saw Genvieve struggling to save herself. He nodded.

“She didn’t try to drown herself,” Patrick’s voice sounded flat, emotionless.

It was how MacInness had felt the moment he heard the faint cry and rushed to the lake in time to see her go under. His warrior’s training took over and he acted without need for thought. Once she was safe on shore, he began the arduous task of expelling the water from her body. The sound of her stomach rebelling had been sweet.

“I dinna think she meant to.”

Patrick shared the same strong religious beliefs. Neither of them wanted to believe she’d given in to despair and tried to kill herself.

By the time they’d reached the postern gate, MacInness had come to a decision. He’d wed the lass to save her from herself.

*

Genvieve woke with a jolt, dragging air into her lungs. The coughing fit had her stomach clenching in agony.

“Easy, lass. Dinna try to move too fast.”

She opened her eyes and her heart actually hurt. The man she’d been told to marry, the one who didn’t want her, was sitting beside the bed. His dark expression belied the gentle tone he’d used.

“How did I get here?” Her voice cracked and sounded like nails scraping over a slick surface, but she needed him to know the rest. “I don’t remember how I got to the lake.”

He was silent for so long, she was afraid he would not answer her. Finally, he did, “I thought ye were made of sterner stuff, lass.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he glared at her.

“That ye’d try to take yer own life, just because I refused to marry ye—”

She bolted up and grabbed for his hand, shaking her head, willing him to understand that was not how it happened.

He started to tug his hand free, then must have thought better of it. “I dinna want to marry, lass. ’Tisn’t yer fault.”

Genvieve felt tears welling in her eyes. She blinked furiously; she didn’t want to appear weak, even though she knew in her heart the Scotsman thought she’d tried to kill herself. God, please let her voice work. Winslow squeezed her hand and stood and walked to the door.

“No!” This time the cry came from the pit of her stomach and sounded like a scalded cat. But he stopped and turned around.

He waited, but she didn’t know what else to say, didn’t trust that her voice wouldn’t bring the servants running to see who was torturing small animals in her chamber.

“I’ll be back, lass,” he said. “Rest now.”

Genvieve slumped against the pillow when he shut the door. The urge to weep swept over her. Alone, she finally gave in.

*

MacInness heard her sobs and paused, clenching his hands into fists, waiting for the urge to go back and hold Genvieve to pass. The stark need shook his resolve not to care any deeper than he did. He’d given his heart already; he had no room in it for another.

As he made his way across the hall, he roused a servant and had her go find Lady Eyreka. It was the least he could do, sending someone to watch over Genvieve.

Before he made it to the door, he heard Garrick call him. He didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, especially his overlord.

“What happened?” Garrick demanded catching up to him.

“The lass had a little trouble by the lake.”

Garrick never showed any emotion when he asked, “She tried to—”

“Nay,” MacInness bit out before Garrick could finish the question. If he denied it enough times, then perhaps the niggling doubt in the back of his skull would be satisfied.

“We need to talk.” The set of the other man’s jaw didn’t bode well.

MacInness inclined his head and motioned for Garrick to follow him outside. He breathed deeply of the cool night air and headed toward the stable. Before he was halfway there, Garrick grabbed his arm.

“That’s far enough.”

MacInness looked around them to make sure no one had followed them from the hall. Though most of the servants had been sleeping, it was best to be certain. He didn’t trust that whoever had attacked Genvieve would eventually find their way to Merewood Keep.

“There’s no one else here,” Garrick began. “What’s the real reason you cannot marry Genvieve?”

MacInness’s breath whooshed out and his gut clenched. “I—”

“Is there someone else?” Garrick prodded when MacInness fell silent.

“Ye might say that.” He did not want to be having this conversation at all, let alone with his overlord.

“I was there.”

A feeling of dread washed over MacInness. “Where were ye, mon?”

The other man crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared.

MacInness’s Scots granny had the sight and at odd times, he felt shimmerings of awareness. He braced himself.

“That day in the herb garden,” Garrick said. “If I hadn’t been so shocked by Jillian’s professing her love for me, I would have gutted you without blinking an eye.”

MacInness nodded. “I’d have done the same, then skinned ye.”

Garrick didn’t flinch. “You kept her safe,” he said. “Brought her out of that hellish situation.”

MacInness remembered it well; it was the first time he had become aware of his feelings for the lady.

Garrick’s stance became rigid. “The day she rode out and you followed…”

“I told the lass to turn back,” MacInness began.

Garrick looked away and then back. The pain in his overlord’s gaze told MacInness what he’d known. “I don’t know what I’d have done if she’d died or lost the babe.”

MacInness swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I owe her my life.”

The man he now counted as a friend reached out and placed a hand on MacInness’s shoulder. “Jillian loves me.”

A shaft of pain slicing through his already aching gut. “Aye.”

“You need to let go.”

The need to pound someone senseless nearly overwhelmed his iron-clad control. “I canna.”

“She’s my wife—”

“And I’ve pledged my life to protect her.”

“But you have feelings—”

MacInness raked a hand through his hair. “Can ye not let it go at that, mon?”

Garrick’s arms slid to his sides, and he fisted his hands. “She’s—”

“A wonderful woman, courageous, gentle, beautiful.”

“And she belongs—”

“To ye.” MacInness nodded. “And I’d give my life for her and would never go back on my word to never give her a reason not to trust me.” He wished he hadn’t made that vow, but the look in her eyes had swayed him. “’Tis why I canna marry.”

Garrick got right into his face and ground out, “No, ’tis why you must.”

MacInness felt the other man’s anger then and knew it was time to let go of the hope that someday Lady Jillian would change her mind and leave her husband. “Genvieve won’t have me.”

His overlord stepped back, relaxed his stance and rubbed the side of his head. “She will.”

MacInness wondered if Patrick had told Garrick just what took place earlier. He disregarded the thought. His own vassal had given his word not to speak of it and no one would hear how Genvieve came to be in the lake or why he thought she’d gone there. “I’ve got to go,” he started walking.

“Wait.”

He paused.

“Genvieve needs you.”

“She doesna.”

“What if the bastards that attacked her come looking for her?” Garrick said. “Will you be content knowing she won’t likely live through another attack? That you could have protected her?”

The truth of the other man’s words hit him like a blow to his midsection. His breath rasped out as he wondered why God, in His infinite wisdom, saddled MacInness with a woman who couldn’t speak but had still managed to make it plain that she didn’t want to marry him.

He was a propertied man, battle-hardened, but not afraid of hard work. He might not be titled, but he’d have Sedgeworth Keep now, even though he didn’t want it. He’d be able to help feed his clan…

Fighting against it wouldn’t change the inevitable. His shoulders fell in resignation.

“I’ll speak to de Chauret in the mornin’.”