“Damn ye, Adwen. Ye are an ignorant fool. Ye’ve only known Jane a few moons. Would ye say ye love her less than ye did Orick?”
There was no one he loved more than Jane. She had captured him from the first moment. With Orick, he felt he had lost a piece of his very soul. “No.”
“Aye, I know. And the others loved him deeply as well. And what of me, Adwen? Do ye think that I doona have feelings? I was raised with Orick just as ye were. He was my brother and Griffith’s as well. Da will feel he’s lost a son when he learns. I’ve sent riders for them, but ’twill be ages before we hear from them.”
Of course, Callum grieved for Orick. He’d only been too lost in his own pain to think of it. “I’m sorry, brother. I know ye loved him and he, ye. Do ye mean to make me feel more guilty than I already do? I’m in enough pain without ye giving me more.”
“Ye are arrogant and selfish. Someone needs to tell ye so ye will wake up. Is that why ye sent her away—ye felt guilty? Ye should. Ye’ve torn the lass to pieces for no reason. Why did ye tell her that ye knew she couldna have children? I told ye that so ye’d comfort her, let her know that ye doona care. Instead, ye used it to send her away. I doona think ye are the sort of man who would find fault in a lass for that. Did ye mean what ye said to her?”
It had hurt him to lie to her, but he’d thought it necessary. She was as stubborn as him. He knew she’d not leave unless wounded. “No, o’course I dinna. I’ll love her ’til my last breath leaves me, but she deserves someone who willna destroy her.”
Callum shook his head, laughing at him in disgust. “Yer grief has made ye daft. Ye will only destroy yerself if ye doona stop this foolishness. Ye may feel destroyed now because ye are, but ye willna be forever. Doona make choices now in the midst of yer sadness that will alter the path of yer life. She was meant for ye, Adwen. But ye are no ready for her. No if ye would treat her as ye did this day.”
Adwen sat down, the ache in his chest returning. He knew that. “Aye, so ye see why I did what I did. Now, leave me be.”
“No, ’tis no my job to coddle ye. Orick may have been a man of great patience, but if he saw the way ye treated Jane this morning, he would kick yer arse out of this room just as I’m about to.”
A small, painful chuckle escaped him—the first time he’d seen humor in anything since the accident. “Ye are no capable of it, Callum.”
“Do ye no think so?”
Callum approached him where he sat. Before Adwen could stand, Callum’s foot slammed into him, knocking him to the floor.
“Get up and gather yer things and get out of the castle.”
Adwen stood, too stunned to rise to anger. He rubbed his bum as he stared with wide eyes at his brother. “What?”
“Ye doona wish to be laird. Ye shouldna be either. Even with Jane by yer side, ’twould make ye bitter to stay locked here in this castle. Give me the land, and I’ll be laird. Leave here, deal with yer grief and make peace with yer guilt. Be alone in this world for a time. Ye’ve never truly been so, and ye willna be ready for a lass like Jane until ye have. Then, when ye’ve gained some perspective, go to her and beg for her to take ye back. Each day between now and then, pray to all the saints that she doesna find someone better than ye before ye become a man worthy of her.”
*
Adwen rode away from Cagair Castle unsure of where to go but, as his horse crossed the bridge, he knew it was right to leave. He could never heal at Cagair Castle—not when the memory of that horrid day came rushing back with every glance outside.
He would take the time he needed. Then he would make the journey back to Jane.
CHAPTER 44
McMillan Territory
Three Months Later
I stood at the doorway of Gregor and Isobel’s meager stables, watching for Cooper’s small pony to crest the top of the hill. He appeared at the same time he did each morning and, as he rode down the hill toward me, Eoghanan broke the hill a good but reasonable distance behind him. I waved to let him know he could return to McMillan Castle. It was our daily ritual, and I looked forward to Cooper’s arrival at the inn every day.
I’d never been someone who cared much for routines. In my old life, I delighted in the freedom of not knowing what each day would bring. Everything was different now. Since our return from Cagair Castle, routine was all that could get me through each day without breaking down in a mixture of guilt and regret. The daily rituals of sweeping and baking semi-edible bread and waiting for Cooper to come and join me—I needed those now. The dependability that each day would be much like the last helped me to stop hoping.