“That’s all he has said?”
“No.” Marion’s scowl deepened. “He said it was none of our concern, so I needed to stop prying and to let things happen as they may.” An affronted look crossed Marion’s face. “As if I would meddle!” She suddenly cocked her head as if she just recalled something very important. “Iain told me the extent of Graham’s injuries and that you stayed by his side the whole time Iain was here preparing to depart for England to rescue me. Iain seems to think you care for Graham and that you will marry him.” She gave Bridgette an expectant look.
“Is this ye nae meddling?”
Marion arched her blond eyebrows. “I know well you hold no tendre for Graham because Lachlan has your heart!”
Bridgette tensed. “I hope ye did nae tell Iain that.”
“It is not my secret to share, but he has eyes. He will see!”
“He’ll nae see because I will show nothing. I’m going to forget Lachlan and marry Graham when he is well.”
Marion’s mouth parted in surprise. “Bridgette, you cannot! Your heart belongs to Lachlan.”
“Shush! Dunnae say that ever again. Graham almost died trying to save me! I owe this to him.”
“You owe him your thanks,” Marion responded. “Not your future. You do not love him.”
“I will grow to,” Bridgette said, hoping she sounded sure, though she was anything but. “I dunnae wish to argue with ye. Lachlan is pledged to Helena, and even if he were nae, he dunnae have special feelings for me.” Marion opened her mouth to reply, but Bridgette kept talking to make Marion see the truth as Bridgette now saw it, as she needed to accept it. “And even if there were nae this pledge and Lachlan declared he worshipped me, he’d nae act upon it and hurt his brother, even if Graham did nae make known his feelings for me. Ye ken that as well as I do.”
“I know that’s all true,” Marion said, “but I simply know you and Lachlan should be together!”
The bedchamber door swung open and Iain strode into the room, saving Bridgette from having to respond. The tall, muscled Scot stopped mid-stride and blinked at Bridgette and then his wife. Love and heated longing filled his blue gaze as he stared at her. Bridgette stifled a giggle at his obvious lust for Marion. They likely had not had much time alone in the last two months, traveling as they had been with such a large party and a demanding king.
Bridgette cleared her throat. “It’s good to see ye, Iain.”
He dragged his gaze away from Marion and smiled at Bridgette. “I’m glad to see ye, as well. I’ve just come from talking with Graham.”
Iain’s stare turned inquisitive, and she shifted with unease. The man was keen. She feared he might see the truth of her heart on her face as Marion had insisted. “Graham said that he told ye he intended to ask ye to marry him when he is well.”
“Aye,” she said slowly, wondering where this was leading.
Iain cocked his head to the side. “I did nae ken ye held affection for Graham. I’m surprised I missed it. I’m usually verra mindful.”
Bridgette shot Marion a pleading look, and Marion rushed to Iain’s side and slipped her arm through his. “If you’re so observant, then you should know I want to be alone with you this instant.”
Iain grinned down at his wife. “Ye ken my greatest desire is to please ye always.”
Bridgette made haste around Iain while his attention was on Marion and started through the door to make her escape.
“We can finish this discussion later, Bridgette.”
“I can hardly wait,” she muttered, slipping out the door and making her way to her own bedchamber.
When she was in the privacy of her room, she flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. How had things become so tangled and different from what she had always dreamed? She could not imagine being Graham’s wife, nor living near to Lachlan and the beautiful Helena. She squeezed her eyes shut and huffed out a long breath. She had to make her heart accept what her head knew was so. She and Lachlan would never be.
Later that night, the noise in the great hall roared around Bridgette. Graham’s arm rubbed against hers as he turned to talk to Rory Mac about the battle in England. A wistful note filled Graham’s voice as he asked questions about how the battle had been won and what tactics the English had used against the MacLeods. Bridgette shoved the food on her plate around with a fork, not hungry in the least despite the fact that she’d eaten nothing but a hunk of cheese today. Her stomach was like knotted twine ever since she’d seen Lachlan, and she could not get the unsettled feeling to leave her.
“Why are ye nae eating?” Alanna, Rory Mac’s wife, asked Bridgette.
Bridgette held her finger out to Moira, Alanna’s bairn. The chubby-cheeked infant grabbed hold of Bridgette’s finger with a coo of delight. “I’m nae hungry, ’tis all.”
“When I first fell in love with Rory Mac,” Alanna said, tossing her curly red hair over her shoulder, “I had little appetite.”
Heat immediately warmed Bridgette’s neck and face. She knew very well Alanna was speaking of Bridgette and Graham. She gripped the edge of the bench until her fingers throbbed. She wished to heaven she was in love with Graham. She respected him and she liked him very much, but she was afraid she may never feel for him the sort of passion she felt for his brother. The burning need that promised great love. She shoved the useless worry away. Love would grow for Graham, and it would be steady and good. Bridgette stared down at her food and hoped her lack of response would prompt Alanna to leave the talk of love be.
Instead, Alanna moved Moira to her other hip and leaned closer to Bridgette. “Ye’re verra lucky, ye ken.”
