by Evie North
Lord Tighe had kept his personal bodyguard in those rooms, the men who watched his back in case a knife was thrust into it. Ewen didn’t need a personal bodyguard. He had been greeted with relief by the people and he had his brothers and his own loyal band of men. Dugald had not asked his brother’s permission to make the change—he was still in bed with his new wife—but if there were problems he would talk to him. Ewen, he was sure, would agree with his judgment.
Now Rosina eyed him with those chilly grey eyes as he stood with his arms crossed. “We are not your business,” she told him in a low voice, with a glance toward her daughter. She stepped closer, and he saw that her face was pale and there were shadows under her eyes, while her dark hair was yet to be properly brushed and tidied. A sleepless night? He wondered if she had been thinking about him, and it seemed only fair because he had been thinking about her.
She believed he should have come to her before he left ten years ago. Perhaps she was right, but Dugald had been angry and bitter after their hand fasting had been overturned by the Laird of Tighe. The man had mocked them both, laughing at the fact that Dugald was sixteen and Rosina four years older. As if she had been cradle snatching, when in fact it had been Dugald who persuaded her to marry him.
“Stand beside me,” Dugald had begged her in a pain filled voice. “If we stand together they cannot split us, Rosina. Listen to me.”
She hadn’t even looked at him.
Instead of standing up to the laird and refusing to tear their union asunder, Rosina had agreed to everything her mother and the laird said. It was only at the end that she had looked at him.
“I shouldn’t have agreed,” she’d said, her mouth drawn down, that lush mouth he had kissed over and over. He’d remembered the helpless sounds she made when he was inside her. Dugald had known he was young, and she could never seem to see beyond that, but in his own mind he was a grown man. He had lived a man’s life and taken on a man’s responsibilities, and the number of years since his birth hadn’t meant a thing.
“Rosina,” he had said, and it was a demand.
She had seemed to be struggling to breathe and her voice broke, but there was no mistaking her meaning. “Go. I never want to see you again!”
He wondered now whether she had wanted him to seek her out despite her rejection. Had there been something he missed when he looked into her eyes? Some clue? If there had, he had been too full of his own anguish to notice. His heart had been breaking. He’d turned from her and walked away, and that had been the last time he saw her until he returned with Ewen to claim the castle and all within it.
Rosina must have been upset when she found that instead of being rid of him, she was bearing his child. She probably longed for him then … or cursed him.
Dugald clenched his fists and ground his teeth. He would have stayed by her side, but she had made it clear that whatever had been between them was over. So when Ewen had come to his father and brothers, and told them what had happened when the laird found him and Elspit in her room … They had no choice but to go or face the laird’s wrath, and Dugald had been relieved. He’d packed his few belongings and been out the door before the others.
Now he was beginning to wonder if he had been too hasty.
Rosina’s mother had not been a happy woman, and her dissatisfaction had spilled over onto her daughter. Nothing was ever good enough for her. Rosina was never good enough for her. And then to hand fast to Dugald Campbell, a boy without land or fortune, so far beneath what she considered was right and proper …
Jeanette glared at him now, pulling Mary around behind her as if to shelter her from contamination. Rosina had turned her back and was filling the chest with clothing, not even bothering to fold it. They seemed to believe this was only a temporary measure, but Dugald was determined to keep them within the safety of the castle for as long as he could.
Mary peered around her grandmother’s shoulder at him. Her eyes were his eyes and for a moment it was like looking deep into his own soul. He felt a shift inside him. This was his daughter and he hadn’t seen Rosina swell with her, he hadn’t been there to share the joy and to comfort her during the travail of birth. He had been in the Duke of Arran’s household, and if he was honest, then he had been enjoying himself because he could.
The Laird of Tighe, and Rosina herself, had seen to it that their hand fasting was dissolved, and he was single again, and he had made the most of it.
Although, and it was something he rarely admitted, there had always been an emptiness inside him. A piece of his heart that was missing.
“Lord Ewen’s squire says you are the favourite of the Duke of Arran,” Mary’s voice brought him back to the room. “Of all the Campbell brothers he likes you best.”
Dugald smirked. “He does like me best.”
His daughter cocked her head to one side. She had a manner about her, as if she was far older than her years. Rosina had a similar manner, but Mary also had an air of assurance that Dugald suspected came from him.
“Why does he like you best?” she said
“Because I make him laugh.”
Mary thought about that and then nodded. “You have a nice smile,” she offered.
Her grandmother muttered something in a low voice and Rosina frowned. Suddenly Dugald had had enough. He pointed his finger at Rosina and said, “Come with me.”
She startled and stared, and he wondered if she’d refuse. He was hardly likely to drag her out of the room in front of their daughter, but perhaps she didn’t know that. Over the years her image of him might have darkened.
Rosina glanced at the other two, and said, “Wait here. I won’t be long.”
“Daughter—” her mother began but Rosina walked past her, brushing by Dugald as she did so.
He turned and followed.
She went down the stairs so quickly that he caught only a swirl of her blue skirt as she turned the corner. By the time he reached the bottom and was in the great hall, she was striding toward the door that led into the castle yard.
Outside there were Campbell men everywhere engaged in the usual activity that followed the claiming of a castle. In this case it didn’t look like the losers were bearing any grudges. They seemed very happy with the change of regime.
Rosina had reached the gate, which was open and guarded by one of Ewen’s men, and stopped. She turned to face him, her arms folded, and her mouth was turned down again. Bitterness, unhappiness, anger … it was as if all those emotions circled around her like dark clouds.
“Why have you bullied me into returning to the castle?” she demanded. “You must know it is not where I want to be.”
“Even if it keeps you safe?” he growled.
Her grey eyes narrowed. “Even then.”
“And what of our daughter? Do you not want her to be safe? And your mother? Surely,” and he stepped closer until she had to tilt her head to continue to meet his eyes, “their lives matter to you?”
She scoffed. “No reivers would dare take on the Campbell brothers.”
“You are wrong.” He waited while she glared at him, but she did not respond. “The Laird of Tighe had many enemies, it is true, but some of those enemies preferred a man they could manipulate and steal from, rather than one like my brother who is trustworthy and decent. If they can make trouble then they will. You being out here,” he waved his hand, “is an invitation to such men.”
Rosina stared up at him a moment more, and then turned away. “I don’t have time to argue with you,” she informed him. “Thanks to you I have more of our belongings to bring to the castle.”
He followed her, his long strides soon catching her up as they reached the cottage. He still thought it more of a hovel, and eyed it with distaste as Rosina unbarred the door and went inside. Dugald peered in after her.
The place was gloomy but surprisingly clean. He should not have been surprised but he had been in many such places and they were not always pleasant. Men like Tighe did not care if his people were
poor and starving, as long as he could eat six courses every night and lie in a soft bed.
Rosina was gathering up more of her family’s belongings, using a shawl as a bag, twisting it shut at the top.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
The next moment she had dumped the makeshift bag into his arms, and turned back for more. Dugald strolled to a cupboard and examined the shelving above it. There wasn’t a great deal but he thought perhaps some of the utensils had come from Rosina’s former home.
“Is this Mary’s?” he asked, noting a wooden toy doll that had seen better days.
Rosina glanced at it. “Yes. When she was younger. She is still fond of it so I have kept it.”
“I wish I had known her then.”
She stared at him and then showed him her back. He saw her hands pause over some apples and a loaf of bread.
“Do you really make the duke laugh?”
Her question wasn’t what he was expecting. She sounded curious and the anger had gone.
“When he is inclined to,” he answered her. “He is a busy man with many schemes to keep watch over.”
“Will you return to him when Ewen no longer needs you?”
She still had her back to him but he saw the stiffening of her shoulders, as if she held herself in check, awaiting disappointment.
“Rosina,” he said quietly. He set down the bundle in his arms and stepped up behind her, so close that his body brushed hers, his chest to her shoulders and his thighs to her bottom.
“It is a fair enough question,” she said coldly.
He bent his head so that his breath stirred the hair coiled at her neck. He thought she shivered. “It is a fair enough question,” he said, “and I would answer it if I knew the answer. For now I will stay here, with Ewen, and be of help to him.”
“And then?”
He ghosted his lips against her skin and this time she did shiver. “Would it matter to you if I left again? Last time—”
“You said you wanted to know your daughter. I am merely trying to discover if you were telling me the truth or just making conversation.”
“I am telling you the truth.”
She faced him, eyes searching his, and suddenly he was tired of this distance between them. Why could they not talk like ordinary people? Yes, there were unpleasant memories, and he still felt some of that bitter pain, but it was a long time ago and they were mature enough to be able to have a simple conversation. Dugald had dealt with foreign diplomats and prickly nobles in the duke’s court, and none of them had been as frustrating as Rosina.
“I want to look after your welfare; yours and my daughter’s. I want to see you safe. Is that so terrible? I am no longer a penniless nobody. I am a man with means and I want to use them for your benefit.”
“Why?”
“Because that is my wish.”
She shot him a sceptical look. “Very well, Dugald. We accept your kindness … for now.”
Dugald followed her back to the castle, his arms full, and wondered why he did not feel as if he had won their argument.
Chapter 4
ROSINA
She knew she shouldn’t be angry with him. She shouldn’t despise him as her mother had told her to. Yes, he had made her love him and then left her with his child in her belly, and that was the last time she had seen him until now.
But was that his fault? She had said the things that drove him away, although she had hoped he would see through her. If he had sought her out before he left, if they had had some time alone without her mother’s ears and eyes, she could have told him then why she had behaved as she had. She could have made him understand … But he hadn’t come. It only made her more convinced that he had been too immature for her. Their union had been a game to him and he had quickly moved on to a new life and no doubt a new woman. He’d probably been relieved to do so.
When Ewen had climbed the tower wall to Elspit’s room, Rosina had been there, and she had heard from his own lips that he had lain with no woman since he’d left ten years ago. He had kept himself for Elspit. Dugald had not done the same, but then she hadn’t expected him to. She had rejected him in the cruellest of ways, and he had left her. Being upset with his lack of fidelity was ridiculous of her, and unfair to Dugald.
Sometimes it felt as if her life was being lived under a cloud and she wanted so much to be free of it. She wanted to laugh like Elspit, and love too. She wanted to be the girl she was once long ago. She wanted to be the girl she had been for Dugald because when he was with her the world had felt like a sunnier place.
“Mother, he is looking at you.”
Mary was seated beside her at one of the long tables in the great hall. The main meal was always taken there, and there had been times of poverty in the past when, if they did not eat with everyone else, they had not eaten at all.
Rosina looked up.
Dugald was watching her from across the room. He was with his two brothers, Finlay and Callum. Their father Hamish and Ewen sat at the table on the dais, but it seemed the three other Campbells had decided to share bread with their men. It shouldn’t have surprised her. The Campbells had known what it was to be poor and badly treated.
“Mother,” Mary tugged at her sleeve. Rosina forced her eyes away from the man she had once loved so much that now she wondered if she had a heart left.
“What is it?”
“There are people saying …” she bit her lip. “That that man is my father.”
Rosina went still. She had never spoken to Mary of the identity of her father except in the vaguest of terms, and whenever the subject came up she had simply said he had left, long ago. Dugald returning had changed that. She should have been prepared but what with the overthrow of Tighe and then Ewen and Elspit’s wedding, she hadn’t thought. Now she told herself that soon enough he would be gone again, and she would not need to worry that her daughter might grow fond of him.
“I …” She shook her head. “We will speak of it later, Mary. Eat your food.”
The girl looked as if she might argue, but with a sigh picked up a piece of the coarse bread to scoop up the stew.
Rosina glanced up again and found Dugald still watching her. She would have to talk to him and sooner rather than later. Her heart fluttered and she refused to believe it was anticipation, or excitement. Nothing like that. She could not afford to feel like that about him—there was too much at stake.
After the meal, when Mary had gone with Jeanette to their room, Rosina lingered, making some excuse about needing to speak to Elspit and the other ladies. It was a lie and she felt guilty, but not guilty enough to respond to her mother’s suspicious gaze. She had given up a great deal for Jeanette Gordon, and for many years she had burned with wrath and resentment, but she knew her mother had done what she thought best for her daughter and only child. Being a mother herself, Rosina understood.
As the great hall emptied out, she saw that Dugald was standing by the fireplace, leaning against the mantel, the ashes from last night’s fire still mounded in the hearth. The night was warm enough and they had not needed to light it. Deliberately Rosina walked past him, catching his eye and nodding toward the curtain that led into a small ante room that was used for private meetings, or when they had an overflow of guests needing somewhere to sleep.
She wondered where Dugald slept at the Duke’s castle. Did he have a fine room of his own, where he had a different woman every night? Was he used to the best bed linen? Did a servant help him to dress every morning?
Rosina had barely stepped into the small room when he followed her, allowing the heavy swath of the curtain to fall after him. They were alone, and he waited for her to speak. That was something new about him—before he had always been full of words, teasing her, making her smile, keeping her mother’s bitter voice from invading her head. When Dugald was with her there had been no room for anything but him.
Now, in the silence, her head felt full to bursting with so many memories, and she was struggl
ing to remember why she was here.
“Breathe,” he murmured.
Startled she looked up into his eyes. “Mary has heard gossip that you are her father,” she said bluntly.
He raised his eyebrows. They were dark, like his hair, and the whiskers on his jaw had grown since yesterday. He ran his hand over them with a raspy sound. His eyes were tired, and his mouth was held tight as if he was keeping his feelings in. This wasn’t the carefree boy she knew long ago and suddenly she missed him.
“What do you want me to do about it?” he asked in a clipped voice.
“Go back to your duke.”
He gave a laugh that wasn’t amused. “So you don’t have to face difficult conversations? I have a better idea. We will tell her the truth.”
“I don’t—”
“Too bad.” He took a step closer and he was so big, she only just prevented herself from backing away, but she refused to let him see she was intimidated by his size and his manner. This was Dugald, she reminded herself. Somewhere inside this man was the boy she had hand fasted and then sent away.
He leaned down and spoke quietly, but with that same authority she had heard in his voice when he insisted she move out of the cottage and into the castle.
“As my daughter and Ewen’s niece, Mary will have opportunities in life that the bastard daughter of a lady in waiting would never have had. Do you want to keep them from her?”
His words were brutal and Rosina swallowed. “I am a Gordon,” she began, repeating her mother’s words.
“You are a lady in waiting without lands or fortune, Rosina,” he said. “Whatever your family once was is long gone. In the past. You need to accept that and move on, or you will end up like Jeanette, old and bitter before your time.”
She knew he was right, she often thought the same herself, but she wasn’t going to admit it. Instead Rosina returned to the subject they were here to discuss. “You talk about all the things you can do for Mary, but I want to know if she will become a pawn. A chess piece in a game to be played between powerful men. I remember when I was her age I was already betrothed to a boy I barely knew. I don’t want my daughter to suffer such a fate.”
