Chapter 48

"Why are you living with a man you have not married?" Mother cut into her chicken with precision, the knife flashing in the low light.

My forkful stopped halfway to my mouth. I lowered the utensil and exhaled heavily through my nose, pressing my lips tight.

The fire crackled merrily, mocking the strained atmosphere between us.

"You might have to be more specific," I said with a sweet smile. "There are many men on the estate with whom I have not married."

Mother's lips pressed into a thin line, nearly disappearing into her mouth. I acknowledged her annoyance with a cocky tilt of the head.

"As for Alex, about whom I presume we are discussing, there is an understanding between us. He has proven himself to these lands and these people in a way I fear few others can. He has been a devoted friend and companion. Not only to myself and our family but to all the inhabitants of Ellesmure." I reached for and took a long sip of my wine. "Or do you not know about the ruin father left behind?"

My insolence exposed my contempt. While I was ashamed of my behavior, the rage I felt in being questioned by someone who had displayed nothing but neglect would not permit me to have a civil conversation. I had held back too much for too long. I had spent the afternoon trying to school my emotions into more compassionate, welcoming, easy spirits — but it was all for naught. Hurt, frustration, betrayal, they all played second fiddle to any sense of filial outrage.

"You're nothing like how I remember you," Mother said, shaking her head. "What happened to my sweet girl?"

I snorted. "You never knew me. If you remember a girl that was sweet, she was a creation of your own imagination. A mirage of your own guilt at whittling who I was into a perfect, useless husk."

Mother held my stare, her eyes as hard as mine. With a huff of exasperation, she dabbed her mouth with her napkin and then threw up her hands. "You seem to hold a great crime over my head. If you want to be a vengeful harpy, so be it, but at least inform me of what I am accused of, Eilean."

I scoffed and shoved a roll in my mouth, eating it in one bite. Even now, full of anger, I was a coward. The chewing only bought me time.

"Six years," I said, gulping down the bread. "Not a single letter. Not a scrap of parchment to tell me where you were. If you were alive. No note of comfort or advice or concern."

"War is chaotic, Eilean —"

"You had the presence of mind to send back bodies. Even then, time for a letter could not be spared? No. Just my brothers' names nailed to coffin lids. How was I supposed to know that the rest of you weren't rotting in the sun on some battlefield?"

Standing, needing to move before I combusted, I paced around the length of the room.

"Father was years behind on his debts! There was no food. You took all the men who might plant and harvest, who might have been able to protect us. I begged you in weekly letters for guidance. I needed to know how to manage the tenants and creditors. I needed to know how to feed the thousands of people you had left behind without a thought. Your crime, mother, is exactly as Ian said all those years ago. You made me stupid. You made me useless. And then you left me to die."

Years of suppressed anger burned through my veins. I wasn't screaming. My voice had fallen to a deadly whisper. Resentment made me unfeeling, dangerous, righteous. Maybe mother was innocent of the financial burdens, but in all other matters was I not worthy of the same devotion, attention, and loyalty she had always shown my brothers?

"In father's foolish quest for glory, he sacrificed the very people of the Islands he claimed to fight for. We nearly died. All of us." I braced myself against the table, channeling all my heartache into her slack, stupid face.

"My life has not been so easy, you know. Do not think I did not suffer." Her eyes flashed with grief.

"I know nothing about your life, Mother. You never thought to share it with me."

She only nodded, looking away. Cowed by my fury or her own guilt. I didn't know, didn't care.

"Stormway only stands because Alex arrived. Because I made alliances with the Northern Isles. Our people are only alive because they gave men and food and supplies to us with compassion. I can offer you a warm dinner and a blazing fire and a glass of wine because of the largess of others. I poured my life into this land and I will be damned if you presume to prance back into my home and pass judgment."

Still looking away, her voice small and quiet, she said, "Eilean, I never meant —"

"But you did. Didn't you?" Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I dismissed her for the specter she had always been. My rage guttered, leaving only desolation behind.

"I am sorry," she said, looking at me. Her eyes were full of tears.

"I am too," I admitted angrily, sliding back into my chair before draining my wine glass in one swig.

It was an apology that came too late and was too forced. Maybe, with effort, I could forgive her. I did not want to, now.

The logs in the fireplace popped, punctuating our silence.

Mother straightened her silverware.

I scowled at the wall.

"They're all coming back, aren't they?" I asked finally. Dread settled in my stomach and I itched to pour myself another glass of wine, but I resisted. There was no other reason my mother would be here except to act as a herald. To prepare the way.

"Your father and the regiments are expected by summer."

I nodded. The death knell of my fate tolling in time to the beat of my heart. My mouth went dry.

It was over.

No more Laird Eilean. No more freedom. Back to dresses and dancing and invisibility. I could resit it, but what was one voice against the rest of them? Innis was proof enough of how futile the fight would be.

It was too much. I felt on the verge of a fit. Standing, I turned on my heel, eager to be free from this room, from my mother's presence. My boots slapped against the stones and I muttered, "I wish you had stayed away" as I slammed the door.

In the hall, as I shook off the bite of the slam reverberating through my hand, shame consumed me. Again, that heavy nothingness, my lifetime companion, gnawed at me. Its decaying void filled every nook and cranny of my heart, my mind, my soul.

I stomped all the way to Alex's rooms, pushed open the door, and it bounced off the stone wall with too much force, too much noise. He jumped at my entrance. Sitting at his desk, writing letters, he gave me a once over. A sly smile spread across his face.

"So dinner went well," he baited.

I let out a feral animal growl in reply. He laughed.

"Oh, so very well, then."

"She never should have come back!" I shouted, repeating the only thought that hammered against my skull.

"You don't mean that," Alex said evenly.

"Don't I?" Even as I challenged him, I felt the adrenaline seep out of me.

"Shall I distract you? Would you like to know the exact number of corn seeds we have planted? If not, I know the wheat and potato yields down to the very ounce. Your field hands are very meticulous, you know."

"Damn you," I said, chuckling.

Alex walked toward me and wrapped me in his arms. He kissed me along my jaw.

"Perhaps you're more interested in the performance of our new bull?"

A strangled laugh rasped out of me and I thanked him for his suggestions but declined. Instead, I pulled him toward the bed. "What about a real distraction?" I asked, now the one administering the kisses.

Alex's answering laugh was full of fire.

Tangled up in each other, I let my passions outrun my fury.

After, he rolled to his side and propped his head on his fist. Looking down at me with a cloying mix of amusement and pity, he waited for me to empty myself.

"I don't want to be Miss Eilean," I griped. "Forgotten sister of a hundred brothers. Stupid and mute and idiotic in silk and bows." I toyed with the curling hair on his chest. "I can't be invisible again."

"I know," Alex said. "Would it help if I told you that you were never invisible to me?" His expression was ardent and his smile kind.

"No," I said with a smirk, even if it did make me feel better. I rolled onto my back and covered my face with my arm. "This changes everything."

"Does it have to? You're still Laird by law. You can still be assertive and strong and in charge."

"I don't feel like that person in front of them. Already with mother... it feels so strange. It's like she's a lid, pressing down on me, pushing me into a jar, and I'm thrashing against the pressure. I know who I am but... I'm just falling back into old habits and I can't stop it."

"Are you going to give back your father's title?"

I dropped my arm and groaned. "What can I do, Alex? Look at Innis."

"I don't think your father will try to kill you," Alex said with intensity. "And I would just take you to The Fist if there was a threat of that."

"Fair enough, but I will not fight that fight."

"Whatever you decide, you have my support." He swore.

Lifting my head, I kissed him, savoring the comfort and tranquility he had always brought to me. Alex was quick to respond, lowering himself over me and holding me in his arms. I accepted the sweet oblivion he offered and claimed the distraction of his ardent caresses.