A Perfect Wife(9)

“Oh,” replied Kiera. She turned to Duff, away from Malcolm. “When I was with Bertie the servants were forbidden to do anything for me. It was supposed to make me feel helpless but I'd cared for myself for years.” She looked down, wringing her hands. “Yet another thing to learn,” she murmured. She blew out her breath and then forced a smile. “Could you tell me of my new home?”

“Ye ken how big it is, aye?” asked Duff. Kiera shook her head. “Did no one tell ye of yer dower home?”

“I found out it was part of my dowry when I heard Dougal Chisholm gloating of what would be his when he married me. My father didna wish me learn of it.”

“Why?” asked Duff.

She looked down to brush off her skirts but Malcolm saw the pink tinge that lit her cheeks. “After Dougal humiliated me, and my other suitors were no different, I wished to have my own home. ’Tis why I married Bertie. When my father discovered I knew of Kinrowan, and that I was eager to get to my people, he forbid anyone speaking of it.” She raised her chin. “It didn’t stop me sending things I’d made.”

“Like the spoons ye carved at the sheiling.”

She nodded to Duff. “And the trinkets I was given by those wishing to bribe me to accept them as husband. I wished no reminders of that.”

Her chin trembled. She looked away, no doubt to hide what she’d seen as weakness. Malcolm hadn’t realized how hurtful it must have been to have men wishing to claim her lands and body while rejecting the woman within. She’d been nothing to them but a means to gain property and a beautiful woman they could treat as they pleased.

MacDougals had nothing but the land and walls of Duncladach. Archibald Campbell, the Earl of Argyll, only wanted it so he could claim the entire southwest of mainland Scotland. It was why he also wanted the land claimed by the Macnaughtons of Dunderaw and the MacGregors.

It was at Kinrowan that Malcolm first experienced men wanting to curry his favor. He would have dismissed them with disgust but MacKenzie explained how such men would be insulted. It could turn them into an enemy, one with a smiling face and a dirk eager to stab in your back. So he’d learned to listen gravely to their concerns, nod wisely, and say he would think on it.

MacKenzie said it was best to always speak true yet promise nothing. It also worked well for those with suggestions. Most meant well, the ideas not to feather their own nests but to improve life at Kinrowan. He learned much from them, whether he agreed or not. He’d learned at Castle Leod to temper his first impressions with knowledge before deciding on action. It was the same at Kinrowan, only more so. As he was their laird, if he absently expressed a wish for something it could lead to people believing he’d given an order. Luckily he rarely spoke without thinking of the consequences.

Now he was a laird, the consequences could be dire. The men and women of Kinrowan looked to him to lead and guide them, caring for them as a father would his children. But they were not children. They were fighting men and strong women who would defend him and Kinrowan to their own deaths. It was a priceless gift, one that lay heavy on his shoulders. He did not wish to think on that now. He’d held back on his need to hold Kiera due to the servants, but they were gone.

“They are good people,” he said to Kiera. The tremulous smile she gave him warmed his heart. “I did not mean to speak harshly.”

He beckoned, and she came to him. She wrapped her arms around his chest, sighing in contentment as she held him tight. His arms came around her as if made for that purpose. She felt so good he let his tension ease. He’d looked forward to sinking into her heat, thinking that was the only way he would find ease. But merely having her hold him, trusting he’d care for her, met a different need. He was her husband and her laird. It was his right and duty to care for her, protecting and providing for her.

While he was responsible for dozens at Kinrowan, and appreciated their trust in him, this was far different. Kiera was a part of him now. The connection was strong. Though it was different from what he felt with his twin, it was no less potent.

“Oh, I have missed you, husband,” she murmured, squeezing him.

“Aye,” he admitted.

“I feel safe in your arms, as if I can let go of everything and just be.”

She sniffled. Was she going to weep? Her father said tears were common while women were growing a babe. Was it only the babe, or did her trust in him allow her to release that tough mask she wore to protect herself from insults? He knew about masks. Since they were lads Duff had acted the laughing fool while he was the opposite, cold and grim. Only with each other had they shown their true selves.