“Where is he?” Donnan asked, walking toward the lad who had just spoken. “Where can I find him?”
Donnan well knew that just because he had rescued Camdyn’s family and captured three of Marcus’ smugglers did not mean the man’s operation would fall apart. There were always more men willing to risk life and limb for a few pennies, more so now that ale was so expensive. The malt tax had made it harder for regular folk to afford a drink, and Donnan could imagine men lining up for the chance to afford an extra pint or three.
“I dinnae ken, Laird,” the boy said, begrudgingly using Donnan’s title. “We’ve only seen him once. He sends people to do his biddin’, communicatin’ messages and such. He doesnae concern himself with us lowly folk doin’ the actual smugglin’.”
Donnan sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face in frustration. He could tell the boy was telling the truth, but that did not make things easier. He had to find the man somehow. He had to—
“Me laird?” Camdyn interrupted, knocking on the study door.
“Come in!” Donnan said tiredly, striding toward the door. It opened before he could reach it.
Camdyn stood there with a letter in his hand, which he handed over to Donnan without preamble.
“What’s this?” Donnan asked, turning the envelope over. His stomach dropped when he saw the postmark. It was from England.
Bernadine, he thought as he ripped open the letter. But the writing inside was not script he recognized. Not the lass’, anyway.
“Dear Laird Young,” the letter began.
“I am writing to give you my blessing to take my daughter as your bride. While I know a wedding ceremony has already been performed, I am now permitting you to live with my daughter as man and wife should, in one home, one country. You may come to collect Bernadine at your earliest convenience. My only command is that you take care of her like she is the most precious thing in the world to you, as she is for me.
Yours sincerely,
Lord Nibley.”
Donnan read the letter twice more, hardly believing its words.
Could it really be this easy? Is this a trick of some sort?
But no, as he re-read it a third time, Donnan dismissed that thought. The words were sincere, and he knew that if Bernadine’s father were plotting something, his lass would do her utmost to inform him of the plan.
Nibley must have had a change of heart. Donnan wondered if he had informed Bernadine of his plans. He turned the letter over, wondering if Nibley had added a postscript answering his question, but the back of the page was blank.
Donnan was so stunned he nearly sat on one of the smugglers in his haste to find a seat and collect his thoughts. He was overwhelmed. First finding out that Magnus Payne was behind the smuggling, and now this. It was more than his tired brain could handle.
“Is it good news, Me Laird?” Camdyn asked, his voice hopeful.
“Aye, lad. So it is,” Donnan said, laughing with disbelief. He felt lighter than air, his heart, his body, without the pain of heartbreak for the first time in weeks. They were free, finally. He would leave at once. He could sleep when he got to England, when he finally had Bernadine in his arms once again. He could last until then.
* * *
“Papa?” Bernadine said tentatively, hovering at the door to her father’s chambers. Guinevere had come to the library minutes earlier where Bernadine was lying on the settee, engrossed in a novel. Her former governess had implored her to put down her book at once and come with her, for her papa was asking for her.
Bernadine had been so worried for him these last few days. The doctor had only recently been able to diagnose his ailment, for he had only just awoken from his days-long slumber.
“But why does not wake?” Bernadine had asked as she sat at her father’s bedside only a day before, her face fixed on the pale, shrivelled man next to her.
“Sometimes the body does this when it needs to heal, Miss Nibley,” the man had said gently, clearly trying to calm Bernadine’s heightened nerves.
“But what is wrong with him that he needs to heal?” she had asked, for perhaps the tenth time in as many hours. And, as with every inquiry before that, the doctor had no answer to give her.
But earlier that morning, her father had woken up and been able to explain his symptoms to the doctor, who declared it an ailment of the heart.
“He will need plenty of rest for the next few weeks, perhaps even the next few months. He is not to strain himself in any way,” the doctor had told her and Guinevere.
Which was why Bernadine was so reticent to enter the room. She suspected that the news of her pregnancy had caused her father’s illness in the first place, and though she was not showing yet, she worried that her mere presence would be enough to set off another collapse.
She had not forgiven her father for the pain and suffering he had caused her, but that did not mean she wanted to cause him further harm. There had been entirely too much of that, both emotional and physical, in their family as of late. But when her father lifted his hand to usher her in, calling her name softly, Bernadine was powerless to prevent herself from entering the room and going to her papa.
He looked so fragile lying there in bed. He had always been so healthy, appearing far younger than many of the men of his set, but now he seemed to have aged a decade in the last few days. Wrinkles she had never seen before criss-crossed the corners of his eyes and mouth, and his hair was now completely gray instead of its usual mix of black and silver.
“My dear Bernadine,” her papa said, gesturing for her to take a seat on the chair next to his bed. His voice was soft and scratchy, lacking the vigor it normally had when he spoke. Bernadine wondered if all his yelling over the past few months had finally caught up to him.
She dutifully took the seat he pointed to and instinctively reached out to clasp her papa’s hand in hers, placing a soft kiss on it before sitting up. He looked pleased at the show of affection.
“You called for me?” she asked.
“Indeed, I did. I wanted to tell you, my dear,” he said, pausing to take a breath. “That I have written to your man. The Scot.”
“You’ve written to Donnan?” she asked, shocked. Surely, he was not strong enough to pen vigorous invectives to her love?
“Before you worry, it was not a hateful letter I sent him,” her father said, seeing her distress.
Bernadine breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” she said, blushing as soon as she spoke. “Not that –”
“I know precisely what you meant, my dear, and I deserve exactly those assumptions and more. I have been a despot to you and everyone else these last few months. You do not deserve to be saddled with me any longer, which is why I’ve told your husband to come and get you.”
“You see,” he continued, “I think it’s high time I stopped this nonsense of keeping you two apart, don’t you? After all, love like yours cannot be prevented. I saw that much the day in the woods, when you could not bear to let him go.”
“But, are you sure?” Bernadine could not help asking. Such a change in manner was highly unusual for her father, who was normally so set in his ways. He had spent practically his whole life hating the Scots.
Can he really have changed his mind so quickly?
“I know what you are thinking, my dear,” her papa said, chuckling to himself. His chuckle turned into a cough, and for a moment he was overcome, hacking away until it looked as though he could hardly breathe.
Bernadine was frightened at the blue tinge to his face as he coughed, and quickly jumped up, going immediately for the jug of water perched on a table by his bed. She poured him a glass and held it up, silently asking if he needed a sip. Her papa nodded, and she brought the glass to his mouth.
The water seemed to dislodge whenever had been caught in his throat, and when the glass was empty, her papa sat back, his color mostly restored.
“As I was saying,” he continued, his voice slightly hoarse. “It is time you join your husband. I
was wrong to keep you away from him, to lock you in your room and assume you mad just because you were in love with a Scot. My prejudice blinded me. I never did try to do better like I told you I would. I only got worse, it seems,” he said, an embarrassed frown on his face.
“I forgive you, Papa,” Bernadine said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “And I suppose looking back, I can understand some of your concerns. I am sure it was not easy to see your only daughter fall in love with the man who kidnapped her, particularly one belonging to a group you have long rallied against. But I can promise you, Papa, that Donnan is a good man. He saw the error of his ways early on, and since then has treated me far better than I deserve. And the Scots are good, kind, generous people. Not so very different from us English folk, really.”
“You are far too good, my dear,” her father said. “I was horrible, to you, to your Scot, to our servants. I’m not surprised half of them quit after that day in the woods. I don’t know what came over me. Or rather, I do, but I do not like to admit it.”
Bernadine waited. She needed to hear her father say it, hear him confess his wrongs so she could forgive them, so they could mend their relationship and start fresh.
“I have spent my whole life in control, Bernadine. I control my business, I have great sway in Parliament, and I control our household. And in many ways, I controlled you,” her father said, looking sheepish with the admission.
“Of course I raised you to be independent, let you choose your husband and take your time with suitors, but I knew that you would eventually settle down with someone I approved of. That you would live the life you were expected to. But when you left…” he said, stopping as he heaved a great sigh.
“When Donnan took you from me, I lost that control. I didn’t know where you were, and then when I found out that not only had you been taken, but by a man I hated, and I hadn’t been able to prevent it…well,” he said, shaking his head.
“I went mad. And it only got worse when I found out you loved him. Everything was falling apart. I lost control. I nearly ruined your life. I think my illness was a blessing, really. It stopped me from doing irreparable damage.”
“Oh, Papa,” Bernadine cried, standing up and gently leaning over to embrace her father. She let the tears she had been holding in while he spoke, free. She cried in relief, and sadness, and a thousand other emotions, letting it all pour out, the weight finally lifted.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered when she eventually drew away, taking handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbing at her eyes.
“I forgive you, Papa,” she said, kissing his cheek.
“Go, now. I need rest, my dear. Go and pack. Your Scot is no doubt on his way to you even now,” her father said, and Bernadine was delighted to see her father smile even as he mentioned Donnan. There was hope, for herself, her family.
Her father was himself again, Donnan was on his way, and soon she would be back in Scotland. All was well, or so she thought.
Chapter 33
Donnan watched Bernadine embrace her father and Guinevere, bidding each of them farewell before they set off for Scotland. He well knew it was a bittersweet moment for his love, being reunited with him as she had to say goodbye to her family. Though he had invited her father and Guinevere to Scotland with them, they had declined.
“My health is not what it once was before I… before my collapse,” Lord Nibley had told him, looking uncomfortable at the mention of his illness. He had been seated on a couch in the sitting room, the morning sunshine streaming in through the windows. “I do not think I am up for such a trip, at least not yet.”
Donnan understood the man’s discomfort. Lord Nibley cleared fancied himself the protector of the family, being the only man in the house, and no doubt he was embarrassed at being brought so low by his illness. Donnan found himself almost feeling sorry for the man.
But he could not entirely forget the way Nibley had treated not only him, but more importantly, Bernadine. It would take some time for those wounds to heal, for him to feel that he could trust her father again. At the moment, the pain was still far too fresh for him to feel much sympathy for the lord.
“And I feel it my duty to stay and take care of his lordship,” Guinevere had added from her perch on the settee. “It would not feel right to abandon Lord Nibley so soon after his collapse.”
Donnan had guessed that it would be nearly as hard for Bernadine to say goodbye to her governess as it would be to bid farewell to her father, and he was right, if the tears running down the women’s faces was any evidence.
“Please take care of each other,” Bernadine implored as she wiped at her eyes.
“And you as well,” Guinevere said, patting Bernadine’s arm affectionately. “Plenty of rest and good, proper food, yes? Make sure that castle cook feeds you right. Try to take in what you can even when you feel nauseous.”
Donnan saw Bernadine nod subtly to Guinevere, the governess’ eyes widening in response. She looked embarrassed, sputtering slightly before saying, “Well, time to be off with you!” rather too loudly.
“Nauseous? Ye didnae tell me ye were sick, lass,” Donnan said, halting Bernadine as she walked toward the door, a footman just behind her with her trunks.
“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about,” she said flippantly, but Donnan saw a glint of anxiety in her gaze. Something was wrong, and he had days in the carriage ahead to find out just what.
* * *
Bernadine woke to find the windows outside the carriage dark, the seat beneath her cold. The moon had just risen, and she could see the light of a posting inn just ahead.
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked on a yawn, raising her arms above her head and stretching. Her back was full of knots after being curled up for so long, but she could still feel the exhaustion in her bones. Carrying a baby did make a body tired.
“Five hours,” Donnan replied shortly, causing Bernadine to turn toward him.
“Is something the matter?” she asked, staring at him curiously. He had an odd look on his face, almost suspicious, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
“Why are ye nauseous, lass?” he asked.
Bernadine paled. She had planned to wait to tell Donnan until after they returned to Scotland, when things felt a bit more settled. She doubted he would be happy about the news; after all, they had barely been married two weeks, and all of that time had been spent apart.
No man would want to be saddled with a babe that soon into a marriage, no matter how in love with their wife they might be. She wanted to wait, therefore, until life was calm. However, her plan did not seem as though it was going to work, because Donnan was looking at her like he very much knew what her answer would be. There was no use lying to him.
“I am with child,” she said, her hand automatically going to her belly in a protective gesture. She braced herself for his outburst, his anger, but instead of irritation or fury, as she had expected, she was instead picked up from her seat and deposited in Donnan’s lap, where his arms wrapped around her and he began kissing her all over.
Her eyelids, cheeks, nose and neck were all covered before he moved to his mouth, locking her lips with a deep kiss that set warmth down to her very toes.
“Och, lass, ye’ve no idea how happy I am,” he said, laughing as he kissed her forehead and settled his chin atop her hair, squeezing her tighter to him.
“You are?” Bernadine asked, her cheek smashed against his shirt, muffling her voice slightly.
“Of course I am!” he shouted, like it was preposterous she think otherwise. “I’ll admit, I didnae think we would have bairns so soon, but I cannae help bein’ excited, lass. Ye’ll make a great mother, ye will, and I’ll do my utmost to make sure the little ones are loved as they ought to be.”
“So you’re not angry or upset?” Bernadine asked, needing clarification. This was all too much. One minute she was asleep, the next she was curled into Donnan’s arms, the man’s smile so wide, his happiness so keen, she co
uld practically feel it in the air.
“Upset? Lass, ye already made me the happiest of men when ye married me. That yer givin’ me bairns only sweetens our union,” he said, laughing as he tipped her chin to look at her.
“Hear me, Bernadine. Nothin’ ye could do would anger or upset me, lass. I love ye. For now and always. In sickness and in health and all the words we said that day in the chapel. I’m just happy to have ye back in my arms. That yer givin’ me this too,” he said, placing a hand over hers where it rested on her belly. “Well, I cannae described how I’m feelin’ except to say that I dinnae think my smilin’ will ever cease.”
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