“I love ye, Payton,” she said. “More than life, I love ye.”
He did not speak. He did not dare speak. Those were exactly the words he’d longed to hear.
She glanced at her feet. “I canna rightly say why I believed I had to leave. I donna know why I couldna understand that the happiness I sought was here for the taking, if I’d only allowed myself to believe it. Diah, look what I’ve done. I’ve turned away the one man who would love me all me days—”
He gazed at her impassively.
“And I’ve lost the only man I shall ever love. I am so sorry, Payton,” she whispered plaintively. “I’m so sorry that I hurt ye. I would give ye the heavens would it convey how very sorry I am. To the depths of my soul, I am sorry—”
There was a knock at the door. Mared glanced at it, then at him. He looked away. With a sigh, she walked to the door and opened it to the footmen, returning with more pails of hot water. They trooped into the bathing room and emptied them.
“That will be all,” he said as they emerged from the bathing room. Charlie nodded, and the three of them went out, Mared shutting the door behind them.
Payton stood up, hardly sparing her a glance. “I’ll have that bath now,” he said. “If ye are determined, ye might do whatever it is ye do,” he said, gesturing to the room, and walked into the bathing room.
He divested himself of the robe, climbed into the tub and lowered himself into the hot water. And there he remained a few moments, listening to her move about his room. Making his bed, he thought. She was serious, it seemed. She meant to humble herself. Another very large step for a Lockhart.
“Mared,” he called out, absently toying with a sponge.
He heard her move to the open door behind him. “Aye?”
“Ye said ye were sorry for what ye’d done, then, aye?”
“Payton…” She suddenly appeared at his side, her eyes meeting his, beseeching him. “I am very sorry.”
He nodded, pressed the sponge to his shoulder and squeezed. Rivulets of hot water sluiced down his chest. “And are ye sorry for the neckcloths and shirts and linens ye ruined?”
That caught her off guard. “The…pardon, the neckcloths?” she asked uncertainly.
“Aye. Are ye sorry for them?”
“Ah…” She glanced heavenward, bit her lip, then muttered, “No.”
That was the Mared he loved. Unfailingly honest and too stubborn by half. “What of the tales ye told the chambermaids?” he asked. “The tales of ghosts and wicked Douglases? Are ye sorry for that?”
Mared pressed her lips firmly together and shook her head.
The crack in his resolve burst, and a chuckle escaped him. Mared instantly jerked a wide-eyed gaze to him, and Payton laughed. Before she could speak, he reached up and caught her wrist and pulled her down to the side of the tub. “Ye are no’ sorry for any of it, then?”
“No, not the poor housekeeping. How could I possibly be?”
“Then I suppose I will take what I can get,” he said and yanked her into the tub.
She landed with a shriek and a splash on his lap. He silenced any protests about her gown or propriety by putting his arms around her and kissing her with all the anger and hurt and grief and love he’d held for her these many long years. Love he’d not been able to purge from his veins, love that seemed to be hemorrhaging from his heart now.
He at last lifted his head, pulled the tie from her braid of hair and began to unravel it into long, wavy tresses of black.
“I love ye, Payton. More than life, I love ye.”
“Diah, Mared, I’ve waited an eternity to hear ye say it.”
“I know,” she said, and her smile faded as she snaked her arms around his neck. “But now that I have found me way to yer heart, it is too late! I’ll never forgive myself for being such a bloody fool!”
“Too late? It’s no’ too late, lass.”
“It is!” she insisted. “I know about Beitris!”
“Beitris Crowley?” he asked, momentarily confused.
“Aye! Ye’re to marry her!” she cried and with a moan from deep inside her, she closed her eyes, let her head drop back in agony.
“No, no, m’annsachd, no,” he said, caressing her neck. “Miss Crowley is to marry the smithy’s son. She’s to marry Mr. Abernathy.”
Mared’s head snapped up and she opened her eyes. “That handsome lad?”
“Aye,” he said, a smile returning to his face. “That handsome lad.”
“But Mr. Wallace said ye were to marry her! That ye were often in her presence! Ye took her sweetmeats, ye did!”
Payton laughed. “I brokered the offer for the lad. I took sweetmeats to present the offer to her father. They will announce it at services this Sunday.”
Mared blinked. “Then…ye donna love Miss Crowley?”
“Criosd, Mared! No, I donna love Miss Crowley! And Miss Crowley doesna love me. In spite of yer attempts, we determined long ago that we were no’ suited for marriage, and she confided in me then her love for Mr. Abernathy. I merely helped her.”