“Ian taught me a word as well,” she admitted. “Though I do not believe I can say it to you now.”
“Did he?” Marian leaned forward. “Tell me. Go ahead. Say it.”
She thought of Ian. Of his rejection. And of what they’d been doing when he had taught her this very word.
“Go on.”
Màiri took a deep breath and let it out. “Fuck.”
Both women burst into laughter, Màiri testing the word again. Ian had said she could use it in many different ways.
“Fuck him,” she tried.
Ian was right. It was indeed a powerful word. Màiri already felt a bit better.
24
“What the helldo you mean, gone?”
Perhaps it wasn’t the kindest way to speak to his sister-in-law, but it wasn’t every day a man’s sister-in-law informed him that his wife had left him.
Of course, he had no one to blame but himself.
All morning, Ian had felt unsettled. Màiri hadn’t come down to the meal the night before, not that he was surprised. Grey had tried to talk to him about it, more than once, but he’d carefully avoided his brother by sitting as far from him as possible at supper. He’d gone up to their room, hoping to find her, but she hadn’t been there either. The door to her attached dressing room had been locked, so he’d assumed she was inside and ignoring him. It had remained locked this morning, and not wanting to wake her, he’d gone down to the training yard—and proceeded to get his ass kicked by his grandfather.
That guy didn’t mess around. Granted, Ian hadn’t spent his whole life training with a sword. But still. He worked out religiously, always had. And yet, his grandfather had disarmed him so quickly he could still feel the vibration from the clash of metal ringing down his arm.
Admittedly, he’d been distracted.
He’d obviously messed up. Again. And he couldn’t leave things the way they were. He needed to talk to Màiri.
So he’d left the training field, ignoring the taunts of his clansmen, and headed to the great hall. Surely she’d come down by now.
But there was no sign of her. Other than a few servants milling around, he only saw Marian sitting calmly before the hearth in the hall, knitting of all things. He hadn’t ever seen her knit before.
She’d looked up and said calmly, “She’s gone.”
Which was when he’d promptly lost his shit.
In response to his rude comment, she clarified, “Gone. Left. Is no longer here.”
“Where is she?”
Ian was trying to stay calm. But unlike Marian, he had no idea where the hell his wife had gone.
“She went home.”
“Pardon, my lord.” A servant stepped around him as they began to prepare for the midday meal. He could already smell meat roasting from the kitchen behind the hall. But Ian wasn’t hungry. He was terrified.
“Home? Is she traveling alone? When did she leave? What did she say?”
Marian nodded to the wooden bench beside her.
Ian sat, heart hammering in his ears.
“She said it was your idea. You suggested she should not wait for Shona and the others to arrive.”
“Tell me someone went with her.”
