Fooled & Enlightened: The Englishman's Scottish Wife (Love's Second Chance Book 16)

by Bree Wolf

  Broken Beyond Repair

  Seann Dachaigh Tower, Scottish Highlands, Spring 1812

  Ten Years Later

  Maggie MacDrummond, widow of Ian MacDrummond, stood up on the walkway of Seann Dachaigh Tower, a warm cloak wrapped tightly around her as the cold winds tore on her skirts and ripped tendrils from the plait of her auburn hair, tugging them southward. Her eyes stared at the far horizon, and she felt a deep yearning in her heart, urging her toward the south, toward England.

  Toward Nathan.

  Closing her eyes, Maggie swallowed.

  Ten years had passed since she’d come to Scotland. Ten years since she’d last seen Nathan. Ten years since she’d married Ian…and doomed them both to a loveless marriage.

  For although her mother had been right countless times−as mothers often were−she’d been wrong to assume that Maggie’s heart could ever belong to another. It had not mattered whether Nathan loved her or not, neither had it mattered how much time had passed, her heart had remained steadfast in its affections.

  And still did.

  Curse the darn thing!

  Her fingers tensed on the rough stone of the parapet wall as Maggie stared out at the rolling hills of Scotland, a land she’d come to love with all her heart, and wished her mother were still alive to offer her counsel. She’d been wrong, aye, but there was nothing more comforting in the world than a mother’s whispered words of hope and promise.

  More than two years had passed since Ian had died in a tragic accident, freeing them both from a vow they’d come to regret.

  Long ago, he’d been a sweet and kind young man full of warmth and laughter, and Maggie had loved him for it. He’d made her laugh and smile. He’d swept her off her feet, shown her the hidden lochs of Scotland, the fairy hills and the standing stones that whispered of civilisations past. He’d been there every day, taking her small hand in his large one and guided her feet, always watchful, always considerate, always trusting that one day she would love him in return.

  “My heart is broken,” she’d told him once.

  He’d smiled at her then, wrapping his large hands around hers. “Then let me heal it,” he’d whispered and his warmth had called to her, dried her tears and given her hope.

  Maggie had wanted to love him. She’d tried, and for a time, she’d thought her heart had truly changed, so badly had she wanted it to. But in the end, it had been a false hope.

  And Ian had come to see it as well.

  Slowly, day by day, he’d come to realise that he was not the one her heart longed for. He’d seen the faraway look in her eyes when she’d thought of the man she couldn’t help but love. He’d noticed the way she’d avoided his touch when he wanted to draw her into his arms. He’d heard her whisper Nathan’s name in the middle of the night.

  And it had broken his heart as well.

  He’d retreated then, grown reticent and taciturn. Anger had begun simmering in his veins, and he had become a man unlike the one she’d met that day in this very spot up on the walkway. He’d become bitter and hardened. He no longer smiled and laughed, but spoke little and saw deception and betrayal wherever he looked.

  She had done this to him. Maggie knew that it had been her inability to love him that had broken him in the worst way. She ought to know for she had experienced it herself.

  And now he was gone, a life wasted, and Maggie was left with nothing but regrets. And still her heart yearned for Nathan, a punishment that would ensure she suffered until she would one day draw her last breath.

  Her teeth gritted together in anger at the unfairness of the world, and her fingers scraped almost painfully over the rough stone of the parapet wall. Aye, she was to blame for Ian’s heartache. She should never have married him. If she hadn’t, perhaps he would have had a chance to find love, but she had stolen that from him.

  And yet, she too was broken.

  Felt broken beyond repair.

  Even after ten years.

  Would it ever end?

  Still, there were Niall and Blair to consider.

  Ian had loved their children with all his heart. In this one regard, they’d been the same. His children had been his weakness. They’d been the ones to welcome his smiles, his laughter, his gentle caresses and his warm hugs. They’d loved him as he deserved, and he’d always fought to protect them, to see them happy.

  “There you are,” came a melodious voice from the door in her back and, for a second, Maggie wished it could be her mother. Still, when she turned, her gaze fell on her dearest friend, Claudia MacDrummond, an Englishwoman who had come to their clan in marriage as well. In her arms lay her wee son Alex, barely a year old, his slanted eyes closed in peaceful slumber as he rested his head on her shoulder.

  Maggie sighed, willing a smile onto her face. “Aye, I needed to think.” When Maggie had married Ian, she’d severed all ties to her old life in England. She’d become a Scot in every sense of the word, and today, truly little remained of the young, English girl she’d once been.

  Not even her words sounded as they once had.

  Claudia nodded knowingly as she rubbed a gentle hand over her son’s back. “Have you made up your mind? Will you come to England with us?”

  Maggie drew in a long breath, still torn about what to do. After all, her life was here in the Highlands, and yet, her heart still yearned to return to the young man she’d once known. She no longer harboured any hope to claim his heart−that hope had died the day she’d received news of his wedding−but could there be a way to rid herself of his ghost? The thought of him that haunted her day in and out?

  Perhaps she ought to have returned to England after all and attended his wedding ten years ago. Perhaps seeing him wed to another would have broken the spell. Perhaps she could have loved Ian after all.

  Now, it was too late. Too late for her and Ian.

  He was gone, and nothing she did would change that.

  Still, perhaps it was not too late to finally free herself of the tugs she still felt in her heart, of the longing that woke her in the middle of the night, of the sadness and regret that often caught her off guard. If she were to go to England and meet Nathan, see him with his wife, his family, his children, would that break the spell? Would it free her? Or would it simply bring more pain?

  Standing beside her, Claudia reached out her free hand and gently settled it on Maggie’s. Her fingers were soft and warm as they fought to loosen Maggie’s grip on the hard stone underneath. “You cannot go on like this,” Claudia counselled as her blue gaze sought Maggie’s. “One day it will break you,” her brows rose imploringly, “unless you break it first.”

  Maggie drew in a deep breath, aware that a part of her hesitated out of fear. Plain, old fear. Nothing else.

  “Come with us,” Claudia urged, softly rocking her sleeping child as she held on to Maggie’s hand. “You can visit your brother and his family, see England again and perhaps make peace with your past.” She smiled at her. “I know this is your home, as it is mine now, and I would never suggest you leave it behind. All I’m asking is for you to come for a short visit. Nothing more.”

  “I know ye’re right,” Maggie whispered on a sigh. “I know ye are. I do.” Her head bobbed up and down, and yet, something inside of her fought against the decision she knew she ought to make. “‘Tis simply that…”

  “You’re afraid,” Claudia finished for her before she pulled Maggie into a warm embrace, her free hand moving to settle around her friend’s shoulders. “I understand why you would be, but fear not. You’ll not be alone. Garrett and I shall be by your side at all times.” A soft chuckle rose from her throat, and Maggie glanced at Wee Alex as he sighed in his sleep. “And if the man proves to be an even greater fool than he already did, it’ll be our pleasure to end his miserable existence. Don’t worry. We’ll make it look like a painful accident.”

  Maggie felt herself warm at her friend’s teasing devotion, and her aching heart relaxed−at least a little. Her gaze travelled back out o
ver the land before her, and her eyes caught sight of red-headed Niall and fair-haired Blair, nine and seven years of age, as they chased each other across the meadow with a couple of friends close on their heels.

  Their eyes were aglow and their cheeks red once again. The loss of their father had hit them hard, Niall in particular as he’d always looked up to his father, thinking him nothing short of a god. But they had recovered. Sadness still lingered, but it no longer darkened their days as it had before.

  Maggie envied them, envied the lightness with which children tackled life’s pitfalls. They had a way of overcoming things that threatened to crush her. If only she knew their secret.

  From the path leading up to the front gate, Garrett strode over, Claudia’s tall, dark-haired husband, their three-year-old son Aiden rushing to catch up, his eyes aglow as he watched the older children. He held back at first, but when Blair waved him over, he joined in, his shorter legs carrying him across the meadow after them.

  “Do not worry about them,” Claudia counselled as her eyes swept over their children. “They’ll do just fine.” A mother’s smile tugged on the corners of her lips before her gaze moved from the rascals racing across the green to her husband.

  As though he could feel his wife looking at him, Garrett turned and his head rose. Then their eyes met, and Maggie could almost see the bond that connected them. It was as though the air had thickened, heavy and warm with the bond that existed between them.

  Maggie swallowed, wishing she knew what it felt like to have such a connection to another. To see with a single glance what lived in his heart. To sense his thoughts and know that her own were as dear to him as his were to her.

  Once she’d hoped to have that with Nathan.

  Then with Ian.

  Now, all her dreams of such a love were dashed. All she could hope for now was peace of mind…and heart.

  “Aye, I’ll come with ye,” Maggie declared as her gaze moved to her children. “We’ll come with ye. I havena seen my brother in too many years, and I think it would be good for Niall and Blair to meet their cousins.” Her gaze rose and met Claudia’s, seeing a proud smile play over her friend’s features. “But ye’ll hold my hand if I need ye to, aye?”

  Grinning, Claudia nodded. “Of course, I’ll hold your hand. I’ll even slap his face or stomp on his toes if you want me to. For everything more drastic, we should speak to Garrett.”

  Maggie laughed, relieved to have such a dear friend by her side. “Thank ye. I’ll never forget it.”

  Claudia chuckled. “We’re two Englishwomen turned Scot; we need to stick together.”

  Maggie nodded, hoping it would be enough. Hoping her heart would survive seeing Nathan again. Hoping that after this trip she would finally have peace.

  It was all she could ask for.

  But it was enough.

  Chapter Two

  Worthless

  London, Late Spring 1812

  The sun had already risen a while past when Nathan Penhale, Earl of Townsend, felt its blinding rays against his closed lids and stir him awake. His hand rose to shield his eyes as a groan left his lips, and he turned away from the large window in Lady Cranshaw’s bedchamber.

  Rolling off the mattress, he stumbled to his feet, his squinted eyes sweeping the large chamber, searching for his clothes. One by one, he located the items in question, his movements a little uncoordinated as he went to dress himself. His head throbbed somewhat, but at least it was only a mild ache compared to the crushing hangovers he was well acquainted with.

  When he finally sat down on the stool in front of the lady’s vanity to pull on his boots, the bed’s remaining occupant began to stir. A small yawn drifted to Nathan’s ears before he saw Lady Cranshaw’s dark curls move across the white pillow. Then her head slowly rose and, a moment later, two squinted brown eyes looked at him. “Leaving so soon?”

  Nathan chuckled. “Soon? I’m afraid the night has come and gone.”

  “Most delightfully though,” Lady Cranshaw replied with a teasing grin as she sat up in bed, running a hand through her dark tresses.

  Married to an older gentleman at a rather young age, Lady Cranshaw had spent ten years under his boot before a slight chill had led her dear husband into an early grave. Finally freed from his oppressive presence, the young widow was determined never to marry again and instead indulge herself.

  Nathan was more than happy to assist her in this endeavour.

  “Will you not stay a little longer?” Lady Cranshaw purred, a suggestive look in her brown eyes. “I could have some food brought up.”

  “As tempting as your idea is,” Nathan replied as he rose to his feet, his right hand reaching to pick up his necktie where it dangled from the back of an armchair, “I’m afraid I’m already otherwise engaged.”

  Her brows drew down in distaste. “This early?” she challenged, a slight pout to her lips that Nathan couldn’t help but dislike.

  He cleared his throat. “It would seem I foolishly promised my sister I’d attend the Elmridge picnic with her and her children.”

  Lady Cranshaw’s pout vanished, replaced by a relieved smile. “You’re a genuinely good man, are you not? And here, I thought you a scoundrel.”

  Nathan laughed and refrained from commenting. Never had he thought of himself as a good man; after all, he saw no need to be someone he was not. On occasion, he did his best to be a good brother, but that was all. Everything he was beyond that was driven by his own selfish desires.

  No, indeed, he was not a good man.

  Perhaps he had been.

  Once.

  But that had been long ago.

  Rushing home, Nathan found his sister and her children already waiting in his drawing room. “You’re late,” she chided in that stern voice of hers the minute he stepped across the threshold.

  More than ten years her brother’s senior, Olivia Portman, Countess of Atwell, had always been more of a mother than a sister. She had been married a year when their parents had suddenly succumbed to a fever, leaving ten-year-old Nathan alone in a large house that had once been a home. Of course, she’d taken him in, all but raised him alongside her own children, but Nathan had always felt as though he didn’t quite belong. He had missed his beloved parents terribly and had not wanted to be an additional burden to his dear sister, who’d only just become a mother herself.

  Somehow, they’d drifted apart over the years, and yet, Olivia was by far too stubborn to allow him to lead the scandalous life he knew was meant for him. She loved him fiercely, chiding him like a mother and comforting him like a sister, while urging him to be more than he was.

  Nathan loved her for her devotion, but he also hated the thought that in the end she would only find herself disappointed. If only she would give up on him.

  He had.

  Long ago.

  “A good morning to you as well,” Nathan greeted her, ignoring the suspicious look that came to her eyes as they swept over his rather unkempt attire. “If you’ll give me but a few moments…”

  Olivia’s gaze narrowed, but then she nodded. “Go and be quick about it.”

  Before Nathan could dash off, six-year-old Josephine pulled on his sleeve, a tooth missing in her charming grin. “Uncle Nathan, there’s a feather in your hair.” A chuckle drifted from her lips as she pushed herself up onto her toes, trying to reach for it.

  Ignoring the scandalous look in his sister’s eyes, Nathan plucked the object in question from his blond hair. How it had gotten stuck up there considering his rather short cut was beyond him.

  “Were you playing with a chicken?” Josephine giggled, her little hands rising to cover her mouth, her green eyes aglow as she watched him expectantly.

  Nathan swallowed, aware of John’s slight snicker. He was his sister’s eldest and had just reached his twenty-first year. He too had inherited his father’s title at a young age; however, he still had his mother and siblings, Josephine as well as Jeremy and Jonathan, age seventeen and fourteen. Both
boys seemed to have at least an inkling why John found the issue of the feather so entertaining while their mother looked positively scandalised.

  “Now that you mention it,” Nathan told his little niece with a sideways glance at his sister, “I do believe I saw a chicken fly by. Perhaps it dropped it.”

  Josephine’s eyes grew round. “You saw a flying chicken?”

  John snorted even louder until his mother elbowed him for good measure. “Nathan, I suggest you go and change,” she told him in a voice that allowed for no argument.

  Grinning at his niece, Nathan darted off, relieved to have escaped with his hide intact. Still, when he reached the large staircase in the hall, he heard his niece’s faint voice say, “Mother, I thought chickens couldn’t fly.”

  A second later, all three of her brothers broke out laughing.

  Nathan could barely suppress a smile himself. Unfortunately, he felt rather certain his sister would find a way to bring this up for years to come. On occasion, the woman had a rather vindictive streak.

  When they finally reached the townhouse of the Marquess of Elmridge, Nathan wished he’d taken Lady Cranshaw up on her request to spend the morning in bed. Instead, he found himself surrounded by families, mothers, fathers and their children, all happy, all smiling, as they ventured in and out of doors, their voices echoing all around him.

  The doors to the terrace had been pulled wide open, allowing the warming air to drift inside, carrying with it the first scents of summer. Refreshment tables had been set up on the eastern side bearing a large number of baskets that could be taken down into the garden to where blankets rested on the green lawn. Families sat here and there, handing pastries to hungry children with wide, glowing eyes as they enjoyed a rather idyllic moment with one another.

  Nathan thought he would be ill.

  “It’ll do you good to see what life could be like,” Olivia muttered beside him, her brows rising for emphasis when he chanced a look in her direction. “There’s more to life than…feathers.”