A Beautiful Lie (The Camaraes) (55 page)

“
Evening, Morag,
”
he drawled, trying to keep a respectable distance away from the woman, just in case anyone saw them together.

“
Lachlan,
”
she simpered, tossing her hair over her shoulder and inching her way closer. 
“
I haven
’
t seen you lately.
”

“
I
’
ve been busy,
”
he muttered, knowing that he should make it clear to Morag that she hadn
’
t seen him because he didn
’
t want to see her. 

However, Lachlan wasn
’
t entirely sure that he wanted to do that now
…
  He couldn
’
t go back to Muira, not now, not after what he
’
d done.  It wouldn
’
t be right.  It wouldn
’
t be fair.  He wanted to sire an heir, but there was time enough for that, and in the meantime he could spare his wife the awkwardness and the humiliation that would surely come with taking her to bed again.

He could and
would
do that for Muria
…
although the thought of giving up the most magnificent lover he
’
d ever had was gut wrenching.  Lachlan wasn
’
t a man who had ever had to go without the attentions of a woman however, and he didn
’
t think he could convert to a life of celibacy.

“
Busy?
”
Morag repeated, fluttering her eyelashes and trailing a finger over Lachlan
’
s chest.  He had to fight hard against the urge to brush her hand away. 
“
You can
’
t be busy
all
the time surely?
”
she whispered coyly. 
“
I miss you, Lachlan.  You always were my favourite,
”
she murmured thickly. 

Lachlan caught Morag
’
s hand as it started to drift lower, edging towards the belt of his kilt. 
“
I may have a free afternoon coming up,
”
he said slowly, dropping her hand, slightly appalled by the way Morag
’
s face lit up with barely contained glee.

“
The Cameron lass not quite to your taste?
”
she smirked.  Lachlan clenched his hands into fists to keep from throttling the woman.  Morag seemed to sense his displeasure because she took a swift backwards step. 
“
Well, I
’
ll hope to see you later then, Lachlan,
”
she promised, flashing him the slow, sultry smile that used to make him burn, but which now left him cold, before turning and flouncing back off into the night.

..ooOOoo..

Muira wasn
’
t asleep when Lachlan returned, a couple of hours after leaving her alone, but she pretended to be.  She listened to him pad quietly around the room, obviously making an effort not to disturb and wake her.  She waited, with her eyes screwed shut, for the mattress to give as he crawled into bed beside her, but she waited in vain.

What did that mean?
  Muria wondered fearfully. 

Despite her refusal to talk to her husband earlier she had missed him once he was gone.  She opened her eyes just a crack, puzzling when she saw that Lachlan had extinguished the lights.  He wasn
’
t going to sleep in the same bed as her?  She bit her lip and swallowed a sob, he wasn
’
t going to sleep in the same bed as a whore, was that the problem?

She turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling.  Fresh tears were gathering in her eyes and slipping silently down her cheeks.  If only she
’
d kept her mouth shut!  If only she hadn
’
t had to pry!  Muira wished so much that she could start the whole day over again.  She didn
’
t believe that things would ever be the same between her and husband.

She
’
d said that she hated him, but Muira hadn
’
t meant it.  She couldn
’
t hate him, not even now.  Not when she considered everything he
’
d done for her.  Had that all been lies though?  Told to ease a situation he couldn
’
t change? 
Perhaps that was what had caused this evening
’
s explosion of anger?
Muira considered.

Muira mightn
’
t hate him, but Lachlan very clearly hated her.  She was nothing more than a Cameron whore.  She was just a vile, worthless slut, who was good for nothing apart from warming his bed.  Well she couldn
’
t live like that!  She was already despised by the entire castle, but that had been just about bearable because she
’
d thought that Lachlan had wanted her
…
now that it was clear he didn
’
t
…
well, there was nothing to stay for, was there?

She
’
d leave.  She didn
’
t know where she
’
d go, or what she
’
d do, but she couldn
’
t stay at Eilean Donan Castle under these conditions! 

Muira lay perfectly still and waited for the hours to crawl by.  Lachlan was a fairly light sleeper, but she hoped to be able to sneak out of the room without waking him.  It would be even more humiliating to tell him that she was leaving and not even have him try to stop her!  Just imagining his relief when he discovered that she was gone was enough to break Muira
’
s already shattered heart into even smaller pieces.

She slipped out of bed just before dawn broke, shucking her soiled nightgown and then dressing as quickly and quietly as she could manage without the help of her maid.  Muira could see just the back of Lachlan
’
s head from his position in one of the fireside chairs, but his breathing was deep and regular, and Muria felt certain that she hadn
’
t woken him.

She couldn
’
t resist stealing a glance at her husband before she left.  He looked so handsome, so powerful sleeping in the chair.  Muira wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.  She found herself worrying that he
’
d catch a chill, that he
’
d wake with a bad neck
…
and then she sternly told herself not to be so ridiculous!  As if he
’
d ever worry about her
…
if only things could have been different
…
if she
’
d been a MacRae
…
if-

Muira stopped herself before she lingered too long.  Her thoughts were broke dreams and nothing more.  She picked up her shawl and darted silently from the room, steeling herself so as not to look back.

..ooOOoo..

There was a moment of dim confusion when Lachlan woke.  He reached for Muria, only to wake with a jerk and find that he was sitting, uncomfortably, in one of his fireside armchairs.  He tried to massage the crick out of his neck as he struggled to remember why he wasn
’
t in bed with his wife.  When he did remember Lachlan longed for the confusion of the moment before to return
…

How was he ever meant to make this up to her?

He twisted and glanced over his shoulder towards the bed.  He
’
d felt awful before, but the sight that met his eyes made his heart clatter to a stop.  Muira was gone.  The blankets were in a rumbled mess, but there was no sign of his wife.  Lachlan
’
s eyes darted around the room fruitlessly.  He jumped to his feet, and walk over to the bed, cursing when he felt that the sheets were cool to the touch.

“
Muria?
”
he called, not holding out much hope of receiving an answer. 

Lachlan searched the room, but couldn
’
t find that anything was missing.  That put his mind slightly at ease.  She won
’
t run without any money, with only the clothes on her back
…
would she?  He remembered her attempt to run away from Castle Cameron and was suddenly less certain.

It wasn
’
t as though Muira had any friends to run to- oh there was Liane and Bridghe he suppose, but Muira wouldn
’
t run to a maid for help, and his sister would have brought her straight back to him.  She could just be wandering the castle alone?  Lachlan clung to that idea.  She
had
to still be at Eilean Donan!  He bolted from the room, still dressed in the clothes that he
’
d slept him, and started to search for his wife.

Only no one had seen her.  Lachlan wasted an hour rushing up and down corridors, poking his head into chambers and generally annoying the other residences of the castle.  It was looking less and less likely that Muira was somewhere inside
…
and more and more likely that she really had left
…