The Damaged Bride

Chapter 18

After knocking on the door, Marcus waited impatiently before being greeted by Rhona, the woman who had once, long ago, been his nanny.

“My dear boy,” she said with familiarity, ushering him inside and seating him in her nicest of chairs. “You have just missed your lovely wife. She is such a sweet girl. Do you know she brought me a poultice for my sore knees?

“And,” she added, returning with a tray laden with a steaming kettle, cups, and wonderful smelling cookies, “she gave me a lovely bit of tea and these shortbread cookies she made with her own little hands.”

“Did she now?” he asked, trying to hide his confusion.

“Oh yes,” Rhona assented, her wrinkled face beaming with a smile. “She comes at least once a week to see that I am well and give me a little something special. Last week it was a haunch of lamb, and the week before that she brought a bag of the loveliest onions.

"You made a good match my boy," she said her smile growing even wider. "I am sure she must make you very happy.”

Seeing her look at him expectantly, Marcus was forced to nod. In truth he knew nothing about her besides what Moira had told him.

He hadn't taken the time to talk to her more than the general pleasantries of day to day life.

“Yes, yes,” he agreed quickly, nodding his head, “she does. Bridgette is an amazing young woman.”

“I have never met anyone who could help me with these old knees, but the poultice she makes has made so much difference,” Rhona said, pointing to her legs. “I was actually able to walk the moors and visit my sister.

“I blame you, my boy,” she continued, pointing an accusing finger at Marcus. “All those years chasing after you while you got up to the worst mischief.”

Laughing heartily, she poured out a cup of sweet smelling tea for each of them.

“I did not behave that badly,” Marcus replied with a mischievous smile.

“You were always getting into trouble, my boy. From running naked through the heather because the Ambet boy dared you to, to baiting O’Flagnery’s dogs with stuffed rabbits. You were always into something,” Rhona chuckled, sipping her tea.

“I guess I was a bit of a handful,” Marcus acknowledged.

“I just want to see what your bairns get into,” Rhona chuckled. “If they are anything like you, you’ll have your hands full.”

Marcus covered his discomfort by taking a deep drink from his cup. How was he ever going to have children of his own when he hadn’t yet spent more than ten minutes in his wife’s company, let alone bedded her.

It was then, sitting with Rhona, that he realized what had been bothering him earlier. He and Bridgette had been married for over a month now and he had yet to bed her. Time was running out and soon O’Flagnery would be demanding a grandchild. If he didn’t provide one, Marcus would find himself a slave to the old bastard.