Lucy Monroe - Moon Craving

And it probably wouldn’t work anyway.

As he stared at her, a look of horrified understanding dawned in Guaire’s usually warm green eyes. The horror turned to unmistakable pity as she felt the color drain from her face.

Talorc knew. They all knew. Her affliction had been laid bare.

Somehow Talorc had realized the truth of Abigail’s infirmity at the lake and he had brought her back here to test his new knowledge in front of his warriors. Darkness played at the edges of Abigail’s vision, but she refused to give in to the weakness. She would not faint.

But it took several deep breaths before her body was in agreement with the conviction of her mind.

Pain lancing through her, she faced her husband in silent entreaty.

But there was no mercy to be found in him. His countenance was so dark with anger she flinched away from him.

A look of disgust crossed his features. “Have you kept so much of yourself hidden you do not know me any better than that? I will never hit you.”

The words were harsh, but his expression was harsher.

It was just as she had feared. He knew she was deaf and now he hated her. She was flawed and he did not want her anymore. Like many in the Church, he believed her infirmity deserved punishment rather than compassion.

“You are deaf,” he said with clear antipathy, confirming her fear.

Everything inside her stilled as hope drained away to leave her hollow. The time for acknowledging the truth had come. “I—”

“Dinna lie to me,” he said, interrupting her confession. “Though that is all you have done since the moment of our meeting.”

She shook her head. That was not true. She had hidden her affliction, but she had not lied about anything else. Not ever.

His glare turned sulfuric. “You cannot deny it. I shouted a warning when I heard the swine coming through the forest, but you did not react in any way. Then, just now, I had my soldiers yell a war cry and you did not so much as twitch though such a noise would have sent even a seasoned warrior running.”

“I was concentrating on my pleats.” And she had not been looking at him to read his lips. She did not care about what had just happened. He had only been testing the new knowledge, not discovering it.

“There were many signs, I cannot believe it took me so long to realize the truth.”

“I had many years’ experience learning to hide my affliction.” And she had had a compelling reason to keep it hidden, one that grew more important each day—her love for and desire to stay with the man who now hated her.

“How is it that you speak?” he demanded.

“I did not lose my hearing to a fever until my tenth year.”

“And you have lied about the truth of your condition since then?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Emily.”

“I should have known.”

“Don’t you denigrate her. She was the only one who cared enough to try to save me. She worked with me, hours every day, so I would continue to speak normally. I learned to read lips with her help and constant guidance. No one in our keep knew of my affliction except my mother and stepfather. And eventually, my sister Jolenta.” She hated sharing the pain of her past but owed her husband as much truth as she could give him.

He did not ask if her deafness was why her mother hated her so. He must realize it was.

“I told Osgard there was no deception in you. I was a fool.” She could have stood it if only anger showed in his eyes, but hurt lurked there as well.

Abigail’s heart broke. “No.”

“Yes! Perhaps your bitch of a mother convinced you to lie to me initially, but you have had ample opportunity since then to admit the truth.”

“I was afraid.”

“Just like the rest of your countrymen, liars and cowards, every one of them.”

“No, it’s not like that.”

He looked at Guaire. “Take her to our chamber.”

“Talorc, please.” She grabbed his arm, but he shook her off.

“You have already made a fool of me, will you add to my humiliation by disobeying me in front of my warriors?”

“Why not? You revealed my secret in front of them.”

“You deceived them as well; they deserved to witness the truth, too.”

“I wanted a chance to fit in.” She didn’t expect him to understand or care. The only one who ever had was Emily, but she told him the truth anyway.

“There is no place in our clan for deceivers and cowards.”

She felt the words like blows and went to her knees from the pain.

A gentle touch landed on her shoulder. She looked up through eyes swimming in tears to find Guaire’s face covered in compassion.

He put his arm out. “Come, my lady.”

Before she had a chance to take it, she was being lifted with jerky movements into Talorc’s arms. He carried her toward the stairs, his entire body radiating fury and repudiation.

Unwilling to hide from anything any longer and needing to face the full ramifications of her situation, she looked toward the table of Sinclair soldiers. They were glaring at her. The expression on Osgard’s face was one of smug satisfaction, but that did not hurt nearly as much as the revilement she read in Niall’s eyes.

He had been her first friend among the Sinclairs. Now he was her enemy.

Talorc dropped her onto the pile of furs in their bedchamber. “If you value your safety, you will stay here.”

She could think of nothing to say to such a threat being issued from the lips of the man she had come to equate with her safety.

He turned and only then did she realize Guaire had followed them up the stairs. “Stay with her. Allow no one in this room until I return.”

Guaire nodded without a word.

Then Talorc left. Guaire locked the door.

“Am I prisoner?” she asked, making no effort to modulate her voice.

But Guaire heard. He frowned. “Nay. Talorc does not want you hurt. The clan will need time to adjust to the knowledge that you have been hiding the truth about yourself. If you want my opinion, most of the Sinclairs will understand, even the Chrechte. Only those who saw how much you hurt our laird with your deception will hold it against you.”

“I did not mean to hurt him.”

Guaire sighed and leaned against the door. “I believe you.”

“He won’t.”

“I have never seen him so happy.” Guaire looked away from her, though she could still read his lips. “I did not believe he would ever grow to trust an Englishwoman. Not even if she was his wife.”

“I destroyed that trust.” Desolation blanketed her. Would he ever call her his angel again?

“Aye.”

“I did not want to be sent away.”

“He would not send you away, no matter what. You are his true mate.”

“I do not think Talorc considers me his friend any longer.”

“Unfortunately, I think you are right.”

Talorc’s fury was only a thin mask for pain so deep it would buckle his knees if he let it. His wife, the paragon of virtue he claimed as his sacred mate, the woman he had come so close to admitting love to, was a liar. A coward.

Osgard made a sound of disgust echoed among the other warriors at the table. “I guess you canna expect anything better from an Englishwoman.”

“I expected better,” Talorc gritted out.

Just as his father had with Tamara. Talorc had spent years proving himself to his clan, protecting them and being so careful not to share in his father’s act of criminal stupidity.

To discover he had been deceived just as neatly by a woman he had grown to trust hurt more than Talorc would ever admit out loud.

Without a word, Niall pressed a cup of mead in front of Talorc and without another word, Talorc drank it.

Osgard left the table and returned several minutes later with a small cask filled with drink much stronger than mead. Talorc proceeded to imbibe in more than his share over the following hours and through dinner. At some point he called for one of his soldiers to take a message to Scotland’s king, telling him of Sir Hamilton’s treachery and demanding redress.

He was deep in his cups when Barr said, “You’ve got to admire her ingenuity.”

Talorc turned on his second-in-command with a glare.

Barr merely shrugged, not appearing nearly as drunk as his laird. “She didn’t just fool you, she fooled everyone at her father’s keep and within our holding as well. Tamara hoodwinked only your father, and that was only because he was thinking with his little head, not the big one. Our lady is a clever one, not just a woman used to manipulating men with her pretty face.”

“She’s a sight more than pretty,” Earc said, slurring his words. “Our lady is beautiful.”

Osgard probably would have argued, but he was slumped over the table, snoring. He’d never been able to hold his whiskey as well as Talorc’s dad.

“Aye, beautiful and smart,” Fionn intoned drunkenly. “Just like an angel.”

Talorc frowned at his soldiers, Fionn’s words stinging in a way he would never admit. “She lied to us all.”

“She hid a frailty. Like a good soldier,” Barr said. “We do not reveal our weaknesses to others.”

“She is no soldier,” Talorc roared, though perhaps not as impressively as he would have before that last cup of rotgut. “She is my mate.”

“Aye, she is that.”

Airril looked at Talorc blearily. “Did you ask her why she hid her affliction?”

“’Tis not an affliction. She is deaf, not diseased,” Talorc responded angrily.

“He didn’t ask. We were all right here when he tested her.” Earc was looking distinctly green.