Chapter 11

11

Mary lingered just outside the door to Kiernan’s study, convincing herself to pluck up the courage to step inside. He’s your husband, for goodness sake! I should be able to see my husband whenever I choose…

But, before she could muster up the nerve, she heard voices from within, and she pulled back. She knew she should not be eavesdropping, but she was still so confused about exactly what her husband wanted from her. Sometimes, it felt like the only way she might get to the bottom of his true desires, once and for all.

“Aye, I’ll be in touch with the family in the village to pay their dues,” a voice—Archibald’s, she was quite sure—remarked. Kiernan let out a grunt in agreement.

“Make sure you do,” he replied, and she heard the scrape of a chair, and footsteps heading towards the door. She thought to make a run for it, but she knew she would not have made it far before he had spotted her, and he might have been suspicious had she tried to put too much distance between the two of them.

A moment later, Kiernan appeared in the door to his study and came to a halt when he saw her standing there. A slight furrow appeared in his brow.

“Are ye alright, Mary?”

She liked the way he said her name. There was something about it that she had never heard on the lips of anyone else who had said it before, something just for the two of them. She nodded.

“Yes, I just wanted to come and see you,” she replied, suddenly feeling foolish for even trying. In the week or so since she had arrived at the Keep, she had been struggling to find her feet, or really get a feel of what Kiernan wanted from her. After that first night together, he had left her to sleep in her bedchambers alone, working late into the night in his study. She saw him at dinner time, when she would take her seat next to him at the head of the huge table that served as a meeting place for his subjects and advisors.

Beyond that, her time with him had been scarce. She had visited him in his study a few times, and each time, he had seemed reticent with her, though she could not for the life of her understand why.

And, now, as he stood before her, she got the sinking feeling that the same thing went for this meeting, too. He eyed her for a moment, and she reached for his hand, craving some level of connection with him, whatever it was.

“If there’s anything I can do to help…”

“Ye’re fine, lass,” he replied, giving her hand a slight squeeze. “I told ye, ye need yer rest.”

“I’ve been resting for a week,” she protested. “I need something to do!”

A flash of amusement crossed his face, and his grip tightened on her hand slightly.

“Oh, you do, do ye?”

She felt a flutter in her chest. Here it was, a reminder of the man she had been so drawn to, the man who had given her pleasure she had not even imagined possible just a few days before. She nodded, reaching her hand up tentatively towards his face, and brushing her fingertips along his jaw.

“I… I do…”

Before she could say another word, he kissed her, pushing her up against the wall and gripping tight to her waist. When he touched her like that, it was as though every inch of air vanished from her body, until there was nothing left but room for him. She could feel it, even now, the pressure of him against her, a sure sign of how much he wanted her, no matter what was going on around them. She was distinctly aware that someone could have wandered into this corridor at any moment, and found them locked in this embrace, but the thought of it only thrilled her more; the thought of someone seeing how much he wanted her, that he was willing to risk capture just for the sake of…

But then, footsteps sounded from inside his study, and he pulled back, his mouth still parted slightly. He laced his fingers through hers for a moment, and planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“Ye cannae be distracting me like this, lass,” he told her, half-joking, half-warning. Before she could gather herself enough to find something to say in return, he had turned to make his way down the corridor, leaving her pressed against the wall, her mind a mess.

Just as she caught her breath, a man emerged from inside the study. As she had suspected, it was Archibald, and he greeted her with a slight nod. She managed to smile back at him, though she was sure he could see the burning red on her cheeks.

“Good afternoon, my Lady,” he greeted her, and she winced. She was still getting used to those terms being used for her, though she knew she needed to, sooner rather than later.

“Good afternoon, Archibald,” she replied. She cast a look along the corridor, towards Kiernan, but he had already vanished around the corner. She silently cursed to herself, worried about being left in the presence of one of his men like this. She felt as though she was constantly on the brink of saying or doing something she shouldn’t have, though she was sure it was nothing more than her worry that had her thinking in such a way.

“I’m surprised you remember my name,” he remarked to her, though a warm smile creased up his old face.

“I haven’t spoken to many people here,” she confessed, dropping her chin to her chest. She felt a little pathetic admitting it to him. What kind of Lady was she, if she could not even make conversation with those around her? Truth be told, she had hardly talked to anyone other than Hattie, her lady’s maid, and even she seemed nervous around her. As though she feared that she might say or do something to offend her new charge, and find herself out on her backside before she knew what was happening.

“Aye, seems Kiernan has been keeping you mostly to himself,” Archibald remarked. “Though I suppose that’s to be expected, with newlyweds.”

She managed a small chuckle, though, of course this man knew nothing of what had truly been happening in their respective bedchambers. Did everyone in the Keep know of how he seemed to be keeping his distance from her? Did they think her undesirable? Her mind reeled with questions, and she wished she had the answers to any of them. Or, at least, the distraction from their pressing weight.

“Have ye had much of a chance to explore the grounds yet?” Archibald asked, and she shook her head. She had stayed mostly in her room, hoping that Kiernan might come by again, as he had done on the night of the wedding, but no such luck.

“Perhaps I can show you around,” he remarked, and he offered her his arm. She stared at him for a moment, but then, she pushed the doubts to the back of her mind. It was clear that Kiernan trusted this man, and besides, did he expect her to just stay confined to her room, doing and saying nothing?

She took his arm, and allowed Archibald—who insisted she call him Archie—to lead her along the corridor and towards the stairs that led to the grounds. She had seen something of them from the window of her bedchamber, though it was late enough in the year that the flowers were not blooming as they might in the summer, and the leaves on the trees were turning vibrant shades of red, green, and gold. Various branches dipped down low over the path that led through the grounds, some of them skimming the earth as the odd sycamore seed dropped, twirling, from the trees around them.

“It’s lovely out here,” she remarked, glancing around, and Archie smiled.

“Yes, it’s a bonny wee part of the world,” he replied. “Kiernan’s mother did a fair job with it, when she was alive. I doubt it would be half the place it is now if it wasn’t for her work.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, sensing an opportunity to delve a little deeper into Kiernan’s history. He had done his best to keep her away from the truth of his past, and she supposed that she had no right to go delving, but if she was to be part of this family now, and she was, then she wanted to know the kind of legacy she was stepping into. His father’s, she knew something of, at least, but his mother’s?

“She worked in the garden?”

“Oh, she’d not let anyone else run the place for her,” Archie chuckled fondly. “Even when… even towards the end of her life, she would sit out here, not far from the Keep, and instruct the gardeners on how best to tend to her plants. She liked to grow herbs, ye see, and she took that very seriously. I cannae remember how often Kiernan would come out here and try to get her back inside, to keep her from catching her death of cold…”

He smiled at the memory, and Mary glanced around the place. She felt a little better, knowing that there was some kind of peacefulness in this family, though it didn’t seem to be talk of that which had traveled the lands outside of the Keep. A few sprigs of lavender lined the edge of the path, the fragrant, herbaceous scent filling the air. Mary reached down to trail her fingers along the buds, bringing them to her nose and inhaling their freshness. It felt good to be out of the Keep, she had to admit.

“Here, she had a spot doon this way, next to a wee pond,” Archie told her. “Let me see if it’s still there. I’d bet Kiernan has had the gardeners keep it spotless, just the way she liked it…”

He led her down another path that branched off from the one that led away from the Keep, and, within a few moments, they had come upon a small stone bench that was perched on the edge of a pond carved out of the ground below. Various plants sprung up around the edge, and the sunlight shimmered off the surface.

He perched on the bench and she sat beside him, staring down at the water, which rippled as a few leaves dropped onto the surface. It was so peaceful there, it was hard to believe that this could ever have been the home of a man as dangerous as Kiernan’s father. But, she supposed, he was long gone now. Kiernan remained, running this place as he saw fit, and she needed to trust that her husband was capable of doing what needed to be done.

Even if he seemed intent on doing it without her by his side.

She shifted in her seat slightly, and Archie glanced over at her.

“You cold, lass?”

She shook her head.

“No, just… enjoying the quiet.”

He paused for a moment and nodded, but she could tell there was something else on his mind, though he seemed loath to come out and say it. She peered over at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. There was still so much she had to learn about this place, but a man like Archibald, he had been there for so long, he had to have access to some part of its history.

“Ye should be wary of the quiet,” he warned her, his voice dropping slightly, as though aware that she was waiting for him to speak. “You never know what might be hiding in it.”

She laughed slightly, nervous.

“What could be hiding in the quiet?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Something that doesnae want to be found. Something you’d never see coming.”

His words hung in the air for a long moment, as much a threat, it seemed, as they were a warning. She stared at him, confused. Was he trying to tell her that something was working against her? Trying to warn her to get out of here while she still could? She didn’t know. But the tone to his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she leaned in, planning to ask for more.

But, before she could, he rose to his feet quickly.

“I should get back to the Keep,” he remarked, and, hardly giving her a chance to blurt out a goodbye, he took off once more, leaving her alone on the bench.

She stared down at the water again, at the long ripples spreading out from the delicate leaves that landed on top of it. Those leaves, so frail, still left a mark on the water where they dropped, and she wondered what else might have been hiding under the guise of something so fragile. What else she might need to know about this place, and these people.

And what else was waiting for her behind the closed doors of the Keep that she had not yet had a chance to explore.