Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(70)

So Morton had his uses, it would seem.

As did she.

Perhaps Rolfe didn’t care for her taking risks, but he was standing there, and she soaked up the sight of him before she turned and contemplated the setting sun. Day surrendered to darkness as she felt herself accepting the harsh reality of Rolfe’s nature. It had always been his devotion to his honor that had attracted her to him. Yet she’d been foolish not to realize that the trait that enamored her would trap her if she stayed with him.

He’d not accept a hellion as his wife.

No, she’d be expected to be as graceful as Ailis and Helen. Taking her place and learning to obey her husband.

She couldn’t do it.

Honestly, it wasn’t a matter of wanting to or not; she simply didn’t know how. For the first time, she realized her education was lacking. Severely so. No one had taught her to run a house, to keep the books, to ensure there was enough food stored to last through the winter. There were memories of such lessons back in her childhood. That only served to shame her. She had always thought of her stepmother in harsh terms, yet Bridget Hussy had made sure her stepdaughter had tutors.

It all left Katherine feeling as if she were standing in a puddle and the rain was pouring down on her, threatening to make the puddle much deeper. The question was, how long would she be able to stay there before it became unbearable? Would it be long enough for the rain to stop? The uncertainty ate at her.

“He’ll come to terms with it, lass.”

She jumped, so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized Adwin had ventured after her. The captain gripped his wide belt, clearly not accustomed to soothing a female’s melancholy. He offered her a bundle, and she saw it was a dress, rolled in a length of McTavish plaid.

Katherine took it, feeling as though it were as heavy as chains.

“Rolfe has more devotion to honor than most,” the captain continued, searching for words he thought a woman would like to hear. It was a strange pairing to say the least, with the bushy, dark beard that went from his face to his neck, the scars that decorated his cheeks, and the two breaks in his nose. He was a hardened Highlander, suited to his environment and thriving on the challenge of living in the northern country.

“It’s to be expected that he’d be less than…gracious about accepting help. Seeing as how he did vow to protect ye at yer wedding.”

And she had promised to be obedient, submissive, and meek.

“Perhaps it was a mistake,” she muttered. “For us to wed.”

Adwin tilted his head to one side, clearly perplexed by her words.

“Since his father detests me,” she continued. “And now Rolfe is vexed.”

There was no arguing with the two points she had made. Katherine watched Adwin try to think of something to say. “It was kind of you to try to soothe me, Adwin.”

She started to turn away, realizing the best she could do was to release the man from any feelings of obligation to her unhappiness. No, it was hardly his fault she was unsuited to the task of being Rolfe’s wife, or that she was English.

Adwin reached out and caught her upper arm. It surprised her, drawing her attention back to his face.

“I will no’ forget.” His tone was deep and hard. She watched a look of respect cross his eyes. “Ye might have left him in chains, and no one would have blamed ye because ye are a woman.” He released her and nodded firmly. “I will no’ ever forget ye kept him from that fate. No McTavish will curse yer name in me hearing.”

A man such as Adwin only gave respect to those who earned it. At least she seemed to have done something right. In his eyes, she witnessed the belief that she had.

“Well, except for your laird.” She’d meant it as a way to lighten the mood. A mild jest, something to take her mind from the turmoil her emotions were in.

Adwin nodded again. “Well, as ye say, except for Laird McTavish. I can nae be smashing him in the jaw.”

“Do not smash anyone on my account,” she implored him. “I did what was correct.”

Adwin snorted. “Ye did it because ye love that lad. Do nae deny it. I see it in yer eyes.” He looked back toward Rolfe. “The lad is young, and blind. He’ll come ’round.”

She tried to let the confidence in his tone soak into her. Adwin took it as a sign she’d accepted his reasoning on the matter. He tugged on the corner of his bonnet before he turned and returned to the camp.

The fire illuminated the faces of the men as they talked. It wasn’t that she felt they would send her away if she ventured toward them, but they would change their demeanor. Right then, they were relaxed, teasing one another as they shared stories of a nature they’d deem unfit for her ears.

And yet she’d heard them.

Still, time had caught her firmly in its grasp, making it so she was no longer in their world. At least not as one of them. As a woman, yes, and along with that came the expectation for proper behavior.

Hellion…

Truly, it was what she was.

She’d been naive to believe Rolfe would accept her as such. She was far from the first bride who’d discovered the courting finished once the soiled sheet had been flown. She belonged to him now, and a man who could not control his wife would never be followed by men.

That hopelessness returned. She settled down and pulled the skirt of the dress around herself. She was being perverse in refusing to use the plaid, but she wasn’t in the frame of mind to be objective. The dress was made of wool and warmed her, luring her off to sleep as she floundered in a sea of unruly emotions.