Page 107 of Kidnapped by a Rogue
After another mile, he thought about the miscarriage she suffered during the Battle of the Causeway. It can’t have been easy for her to share her pain from that day, and all he could hear at the time was that she was not barren. He thought she’d lied to him.
For the first time, it occurred to him that perhaps she had not rejected him because he was not good enough or because she did not care, but because she was afraid. Afraid of being under a man’s authority again. Afraid of being mistreated and taken advantage of. Afraid of losing a child again. Afraid of being abandoned.
After what she’d been through, he should have known, but he’d been blinded by his own past. Though he pretended his family’s rejection and Curstag’s betrayal did not affect him, they made him believe he was unworthy of love and could never truly belong.
What if Margaret was with child now? His child. Surely many women who had miscarriages also had healthy children.
God knew he never expected to be a father, and Gilbert had set a poor example. But Finn would try his best. He wanted to be the kind of father he did not have. The kind who saw the good in his children, who laughed with them, and who was always there for them when troubles came.
But if Margaret lost the child, he could not bear for her to suffer alone. He needed to be with her, no matter what happened.
He leaned into the wind. The storm had not let up, and it was full dark now. He could not explain it, but an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. A warrior learned to trust his instincts, and his instincts told him Margaret was in danger.
He started to run. He did not stop until he reached Helmsdale. He was out of breath as he passed through the gate.
“Finn—” The guard tried to speak to him, but Finn ignored him and continued across the yard without pausing.
Though he tried to tell himself he had no cause to fear for Margaret’s safety, his pulse pounded,find her, find her, FIND HER!He burst into the hall, but she was not there. He took the stairs at a dead run.
When he opened the door to their chamber, it was empty. His stomach dropped to the floor when he saw that all her belongings were gone. He opened the door to Una’s chamber and found it empty too. He sat down on the bed he’d shared with Margaret and held his head in his hands.
She had left him.
He was overwhelmed with regret. Regret that he had not told her he loved her. Regret that he had not made the most of every moment he had with her. Regret that they would not live to old age together and watch Ella and the other children they might have grow up.
The dog poked his head out of the bag and nudged Finn with his paw, as if prodding him to get up and do something. Here he was wallowing in remorse when Margaret could be in danger.
Even if she still wanted to leave him, she promised not to go before he returned. Something must have happened to make her decide she could not wait for him. Margaret would not break her word lightly, so that something must have been serious and unexpected.
Andhowdid she leave? A beautiful woman like Margaret could always persuade some man to take her where she wanted to go. But would the man she chose keep her safe? Wouldhebe a danger to her? Margaret was altogether too trusting.
Finn needed to find her and make sure she was safe. If she did not want to come back with him, he would see her safely to the MacKenzies himself. He started for the door, but something on the floor just under the edge of the bed caught his eye.
His hand shook as he picked up Ella’s rag doll. The wee bairn had carried it across half of Scotland and could not sleep without it. They must have been in a terrible hurry to leave without it. He examined the room more closely now, looking for clues, and found Margaret’s cloak wedged between the bed and wall.O shluagh, she had gone out on this cold and stormy night without it.
He was more certain than ever that something terrible had happened. Moving quickly, he tucked his axe in his belt, gathered her cloak and the other things he might need, and ran down the stairs to the hall.
“Has anyone seen my wife?” he shouted at the group gathered around the hearth.
Everyone, except for Isabel and Curstag, shifted their gazes to the floor or the ceiling, anywhere but at him. Curstag gave him a pitying smile and drew him aside.
“How well do ye really know this Maggie?” she asked.
“Why would ye ask that now?”
“I want ye to hear this from a friend who cares about ye,” she said. “I’m afraid there’s speculation about her since she disappeared tonight.”
“Speculation of what?” he demanded, though he could guess that they all thought she’d run off with another man.
“I’m not saying I believe it,” Curstag said in a hushed voice, as if everyone in the hall did not already know what she was about to tell him. “I like to see the best in people, but her sneaking away does appear to prove it.”
“Prove what?” Goddammit, would the woman not get to the point?
“That your mysterious bride is the one who did it, of course,” she said.
“I’ve no time for your games.” Finn resisted the urge to shake her. “Speak plainly.”
“They’re saying Maggie is the murderer,” Curstag said. “She used ye, and now that the black deed is done, she’s gone and left ye.”
