The door swung out to reveal a red-haired bundle of rage, her chin impossibly high above a stiff neck. She rushed forward to grasp Fergus's outstretched hand and stared at Collin through slitted eyes.
"Jeannie," he croaked.
His name was a curse on her lips.
He glanced to Fergus, back again. "What are you about here?"
Jeannie growled and Fergus tucked her tight beneath his arm to glare. "You'd best see to your own business, Collin, if you're able. It seems to me you have your hands full without bothering yourself with my woman."
"Your woman?"
"Aye."
"Her father will not approve."
"I am right here," she snapped. "Do not speak around me."
"I am aware that her father willna approve. Why in hell else would she be here without a priest's blessing?" She pushed
away from him in irritation and Collin watched her, studying this girl who was like a sister to him, and sighing with a sudden weariness at the whole damned world. "I will speak to him," he finally said.
"I will speak with her father," Fergus barked, and her face brightened even as she shook her head.
"You're both mad. And what are you about anyway?" Her eyes drilled into Collin. "Finally driven your bride away, have you?"
He felt his lip curl, felt his teeth clench in a snarl of frustrated rage. Fergus said her name as a warning, but she pulled away from him and glared in return.
"He has broken her heart, can't you see that? Can't you?" Her jade-green eyes swung back to him, and Collin fought the urge to close his own, to shut out the truth. "You and your stubborn pride. When did you last see a light in her?" Collin swallowed the roughness of her words. "She is your wife, and your responsibility extends further than keeping her under your thumb! She should have left weeks ago."
"Jeannie," Fergus murmured, his voice not a caution now, but a plea.
Tears glinted in her eyes, but she stepped again out of her lover's reach. "She loves you, Collin. She thinks you a good man. And you have made her something less than she was before she met you."
"Jeannie, stop."
The urgency of the words reached him from a buzzing distance, past the thought of Alex's eyes, eyes like blue joy until the daring had slowly seeped away from them. He thought of her laugh and of his helplessness as it had come less and less often and never with him. She smiled so easily with Fergus and that had been the start of it—seeing her more happy with his friend than with her own husband.
Jeannie pressed her face into Fergus's shoulder as his hand stroked over her hair, slow and gentle and steady, just what a man should be for his woman and everything that Collin had not been for his wife. He watched Fergus breathe her in and whisper into her hair, watched as she drew strength from him and grew steadier. He felt shame to see them together, to see their love given with no hesitation. He had been too weak to risk that with Alexandra.
"I'm sorry." Lurching toward Thor, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder before he could mount. He pressed his forehead against the warm strength of the stallion's neck. "I'm so sorry, Fergus."
Jeannie watched Collin's bowed head and fought back tears. She wanted to go to him as Fergus had, but she was still too angry to offer comfort.
"Shall I come with ye?" Fergus asked him. Collin did not raise his head.
"No, it's my own mess," Jeannie heard over the growing wind. "Tell Jeannie that I'm sorry. Tell her I'm happy for you."
Her heart lightened at his words, then threatened to fly away when Fergus spoke. "Will you stand up for us then? Even without Kirkland's blessing?"
As Jeannie walked toward Fergus, Collin eased his head away from the great black stallion. "You would ask me?"
"Aye. You're like a brother to Jeannie and to me." Fergus's arm fit around her shoulders as if he'd always rested it there, or had always wanted to. "And every family must have a mad one about. You can be ours and we'll be glad to have ye."
"Ha. Fine then. If her old man doesn't kill you, I'll host the wedding myself." Collin pulled Fergus into a rough hug, then turned to Jeannie.
"I'm sorry if I caused you any shame, Jeannie," he offered, voice breaking. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "I hope you can forgive me."
'"Tis not I you must worry about, you great lout."