The Highlander's Woman (The Reckless Rockwoods #3) (26 page)

She’d not said anything about the feelings they might have for each other. If she were asking to remain merely out of a belief it was her duty to do so, he wanted no part of that. Before he would agree to her staying, she would need to face her demons. His mind returned to the memory of her reaction to the prospect of guests next week for Muireall’s party.

“Are you asking to stay because you want to, Patience, or are you staying because you want to hide?”

“Hide? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice had gone from the warmth of a summer sun to the frigid chill of a gray winter’s day in the space of seconds. Julian frowned as they stopped in front of his bedroom.

“Then you should think about my question,” he said gently as he crossed the threshold. His back to her, he began to close his bedroom door. “Good night, Patience. I will tell Muireall tomorrow that we will have a quiet family celebration instead of a party next week.”

Julian heard her draw in a quick breath as he shut the door. The moment the latch clicked into place he walked toward his bed, counting each step in his head. He’d barely reached the number three when the door was flung open behind him. As he’d expected, it hadn’t taken Patience long to confront him. He’d known she would not take kindly to his speaking with Muireall about the party. The bedroom door slammed shut behind her as she brushed past him to stand in his way.

“Why are you going to ask Muireall to cancel her party, Julian MacTavish?” The fiery note in her voice made him wish his father could hear her now. There was no doubt as to her Stewart blood at the moment. “Is it because of me?”

“I do no’ recall saying I would speak on your behalf, Patience,” he said quietly.

“Don’t you dare pretend you have any other reason for doing so.”

“As you wish.” He shrugged. “I shall no’ lie that you are my reason for speaking with Muireall.”

“Well, don’t,” she snapped. “You’re not to say one word to your sister about her party.”

“So you’re not alarmed by the prospect of guests here in the castle.”

“Why on earth would I be?” Patience’s exclamation was filled with more than a touch of panic that confirmed his belief she was lying.

“Because every part of you vibrated with fear the minute Muireall mentioned the party.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The sharp note in her voice emphasized her valiant efforts to deny his allegations.

“Then I’ll send for Mrs. Campbell in the morning,” he said determined to force her into facing her fear and not letting it rule her. If she was to stay, it would only be if she loved him and could face the past and its effects on her. In the back of his head, he ignored a voice scoffing at his own hypocrisy.

“Mrs. Campbell?” she asked warily.

“Aye, the village seamstress. You and Muireall will need new gowns. Although, I’m sure it will cost me a pretty sixpence as it’s on such a short notice.”

“I do
not
need a new gown.”

“Since when have you ever passed up the opportunity to buy a new dress? I have paid plenty of seamstress bills where you are concerned,” he said tightly.

“That was different.”

Julian’s jaw clenched with tension. Patience was right. That was in the past. While the two of them had enjoyed getting to know each other better these past few weeks, there was a great deal they didn’t know about each other. But at the moment he was all too familiar with this particular trait of Patience’s.

The Rockwoods hadn’t earned their reputation simply for being reckless. They were known to be headstrong as well. Patience had inherited more than her fair share of her family’s stubbornness. Just as he had the night of the fire, he would have to challenge her and make her angry enough to face whatever truth she feared. The question was whether her confession would make her come back to him, changed, but unafraid to accept herself for whom she was.

“How is it different now than it was in the past, Patience?” he asked quietly.

“Because I…because I needed clothes then.”

“I do no’ understand, Patience. Are you suggesting you do no’ need a new gown for the party?”

“You are deliberately being difficult, aren’t you?” she snapped, and he could imagine the fiery glare she’d be directing at him. “Most husbands would be grateful for a wife who doesn’t drive them into bankruptcy with dressmaker bills.”

“But you are no’ most wives, are you, Patience?” he said fiercely as he stepped toward her.

The moment he sensed her within arm’s reach, he caught hold of her and pulled her into his embrace. With one arm, he held her tight against him then touched her scarred face. A wounded cry welled up out of her throat. She jerked her head away from his touch before twisting in his arms in an attempt to free herself from his grasp. When she failed, she shuddered against him.

Gently, but with tender determination, Julian explored her face with his fingers. Patience trembled violently against him, and he murmured a calming noise as he touched her. Against the pads of his fingers, soft, smooth skin became scar tissue about an inch in front of her ear. The once soft lobe was now rough and scaly from the inferno she’d survived. His fingers skimmed across the burnt skin of her left cheek and downward to the edge of her jaw line before following the trail of damaged flesh across her neck and the curve of her shoulder.

Something wet hit the back of his hand as he stroked her cheek. The teardrop wrenched at his gut, and his heart ached as though it were being crushed beneath granite. Wanting to take some of her heartache away, he bent his head and brushed his mouth over her scarred cheek. The instant he did so, a cry of dismay broke past her lips. With a strength that surprised him, Patience twisted her way out of his arms. As she escaped his embrace, he experienced a bolt of fear that he’d pushed her too hard.

§ § §

Patience put several feet between them and stared at Julian. The expression on his face made bile rise in her throat. Pity. He pitied her. Desperately she fought not to make a sound as tears streamed down her face. Not since the day she’d made Percy send Julian away from Melton House had she felt this alone and vulnerable. One hand covering her mouth, she tried to stop her trembling, but failed.

What had made him touch her like that? Had he thought it would make her feel better for allowing him to know the extent of her injuries? Her fingers trailed across the place where he’d kissed her cheek. She’d done everything possible to keep him from touching her scorched skin since she’d arrived at Crianlarich.

Even when they’d made love, she’d managed to keep him from touching the hard, rough scars that covered almost half her face. There had been something deliberate in his actions a few moments ago. He’d said she wasn’t like other wives. Had he been referring to her scarred flesh? Although she had never been a vain beauty, Julian had always made her feel beautiful.

But she knew how ugly her scars were and how marred her face was. She knew because of the way people recoiled from her or whispered loudly about what a piteous creature she’d become. To think he was suggesting she was different because of her scars was the same as if he’d pierced her breast with a sharp blade.

“What did you mean I’m not like most wives?” she bit out in a stilted voice.

“You are no’ like other women, because you are my wife and you are a Rockwood,” he said quietly. “You possess your family’s stubbornness and sometimes foolhardy nature, but above all you are the most courageous person I’ve ever known.”

Julian extended his hand toward her, and she leapt backward. Her trembling had eased somewhat, but she had no doubt that if he touched her again she would lose complete control of her emotions. Silence hung thick and heavy between them, and Patience blinked the tears from her eyes. Julian was staring at a point past her head and the expression on his ruggedly handsome features had become harsh and unreadable, while his posture was rigid and inflexible.

“Do you know how many times I’ve wished it had been me trapped in those flames and no’ you, my brave lass.” His throat bobbed, and his mouth drew up taut against the low, roughly uttered statement.

Patience’s heart skipped a beat as his words hung in the air between them. An image of Percy preventing Julian from leaping through the flames to reach her fluttered through her head. She closed her eyes for a moment. Julian understood her. He knew her family was a stubborn clan. Their bloodline ensured that trait. It was one of the reasons why he’d taunted her so ruthlessly after Caleb and Devin had fallen into the inferno.

He’d known that if he made her angry enough she would jump across that terrifying gap of flames. Without his taunts she would have died that night. No, not his derisive words, it had been his threat of coming after her that had saved her. She would have done anything to keep him safe. Something she’d failed to do where Caleb or Devin were concerned. Not even her gift had been enough to save them. A draining weariness sank into her pores burrowing deep into her soul.

“I’m tired, Julian,” she said hoarsely as she turned away from him. “I’ll say good night.”

“You can no’ run forever, Patience.”

A wave of panic assaulted her. It rolled over her with an unexpected strength that left her with the sensation of drowning. Why did he feel the need to plague her with the past? All she wanted to do was forget. Deep down a voice mocked her. She would never forget.

“I’m not running from anything,” she bit out. “Unlike you, I simply don’t feel the need to discuss the past.”

“It’s time you did discuss it, Patience,” he said firmly. “You’ve hidden from the world for long enough.”

“I am
not
hiding from the world,” she exclaimed angrily.

“Your family disagrees with you.” Julian glared at a point above her head. “Do you no’ remember all the times Percy and the others urged you to come out of that damn room of yours at Melton House?”

“I wasn’t well—”

“Tell me why you sent me away, Patience.”

The harsh command made Patience’s heart stop before it resumed beating at the speed of a runaway train. How could she respond to that? Was she supposed to lie or tell him the truth? Tell him that she believed he’d always been faithful to her? Should she tell him everything?

“I want an answer, Patience. Why did you send me away?”

This time his voice echoed with the ferocity of the ancient warriors he descended from. It dislodged a small brick from the wall she’d built between her and the past. Like a piece of a dam, the wall began to crack at its weakest point. Desperately, she fought to push her pain and fear back into the void. As she studied his face, her heart jumped painfully in her chest. She didn’t have the courage to tell him the complete truth. The idea of confessing how terrified she’d been of when he’d seen the extent of her scars appalled her. How could she begin to explain her fear that he would look on her and find her revolting like so many others? He frowned angrily.

“
Tell me
,” he ordered, and his voice ripped away the wall holding her emotions at bay. Pain, regret, fear, and grief flooded her senses.

“Because I didn’t want your pity,” she cried out as her emotions erupted viciously inside her.

“My pity?” An odd expression darkened Julian’s features.

“
Yes
, pity,” she cried out with a fury that shadowed the pain spreading its way through her. “I knew before I even looked in the mirror what a hideous creature I was. How could you feel
anything
but pity for me?”

“Do you deem me of such low character that I would have only pity for my wife, Patience MacTavish? The woman I loved?” His voice was clap of thunder in the room. She gasped at his reaction to her words. In the back of her mind she noted he’d spoken in the past tense, and it intensified the sensation of pain from the brittle glass-like shards slicing into her.

“
No
, that’s not what I meant.” She took a step toward him then stopped as disgust slashed across his face.

“Do no’ mock me, my lady,” he snarled. “What else could you have meant?”

“The woman I was died in that fire. The creature I’ve become is reviled,” she said coldly. “I couldn’t bear having you look at me with…with disgust.”

“If I were concerned solely with my wife’s appearance, I would no’ have spent two weeks at her bedside or waited
six months
for her to send for me, which she never did.” His voice was icy with contempt as a thunderous cloud of dark anger settled on his face. “You are a hypocrite, my lady. You would no’ allow me the chance to prove myself to you, and yet the minute you learned of my affliction you raced back to Crianlarich. For what—to act as my nurse? Would you have come here if I could see?”

Patience stared at him in horror. Was that why she’d come back to Crianlarich? Was it simply because she knew Julian wouldn’t be able to see the terrible scars on her body. He’d asked a fair question, and in the back of her head she didn’t like her answer.

“
Answer me, damn you
,” he roared, and the violence in his command made her flinch.

“No,” she whispered.

“No
what
?” he snarled.

“No, I wouldn’t have come back to Crianlarich,” she said clearly as her heart pounded painfully in her chest.

“I think that’s the first honest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“That’s not true,” she gasped.

“Get out, Patience,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion. Although he was pale, his face was an implacable mask of scorn.

“Please, Julian, I didn’t—”

“
Now
, Patience.” The emphatic command dared her to disobey. Frozen where she stood, Patience realized her attempt to make Julian fall in love with her again was dying a painful death.

“Julian, please. Let me—”

“
Get out, Patience
,” he roared.

The fury in his voice made her recoil from him. Her heart breaking, she turned and slowly walked away leaving him standing in the center of the room. A few seconds later, she closed the door between their rooms. Tears streaming down her cheeks, Patience undressed slowly in the dark. She’d made a terrible mistake sending him away.