Her Reluctant Highlander Husband (Clan MacKinlay)

by Hanson, Allison B.

  This earned Bryce’s ire, and not because he felt guilty. “Ye think me cruel because I did what you asked of me? Provided her a home? Clothing, shoes, food? Saw to her comforts? Mayhap you thought to make a love match. I’m sorry to disappoint you in your matchmaking. I didna ken you had turned into an old woman.”

  “I thought you might grow to be friends with her at least.”

  “That was not what you ordered me to do. You said it was my duty to wed her. Ye said nothing of being friends.”

  Lachlan frowned but gave up when Cameron and their women joined them at the table.

  Bryce wouldn’t be made to feel guilty. Especially when he knew Dorie was better off without him in her life. He was miserable; there was no sense making her miserable as well.

  Chapter Five

  Dorie muttered a few curses at her latest attempt to make bread. It hadn’t turned into anything remotely close to bread. Again.

  In fact, nothing she’d attempted so far had been edible. The cheese was gone and she’d eaten the vegetables raw. She would never complain, though. She’d eaten much worse when she lived with the McCurdys, but her stomach growled at the thought of the meals they must enjoy up at Dunardry Castle.

  Even Rascal had taken to begging up at the castle for his meals rather than rely on her. Which was why she hadn’t been given proper notice that visitors were on their way until they’d reached the door and knocked.

  A few more curses whispered across Dorie’s lips as she answered the door with a smile. Once inside, Mari and Kenna looked around.

  “What are ye baking?” Kenna asked as she stepped closer to the mess on the table. Her brows pulled together while Mari frowned. She set down a basket filled with bannocks and preserves, and Dorie’s mouth watered.

  Dorie let out a sigh and shrugged. Not just because she didn’t speak, but because even if she did, she wouldn’t have a name for whatever the mess should be called. Except failure.

  Tears filled her eyes and she sat on one of the chairs with her head in her hands. She hadn’t had high hopes for her life when she came here, but she’d hoped not to be hungry for the rest of her days.

  “Oh, dear,” Mari said, coming to pat her shoulder in a comforting way. “It’s no shame if you don’t know how to cook or bake. I didn’t know either when I arrived. I was a duchess, after all, and duchesses are forbidden to enter the kitchens. But I’ve learned a bit since I’ve been here helping the women prepare the meals.”

  “Aye.” Kenna held up the basket. “We brought something to share for now. And mayhap you’d like to join us in the morning? We’ll be making tarts and stew.”

  Dorie wiped her tears and nodded enthusiastically. She remembered the rare occasions when there were tarts at Baehaven, back when her mother was alive.

  But it wasn’t just the tarts that caused excitement to settle in her stomach. Being invited to the kitchens meant she’d be with people. She was bored to misery in her little cottage. Even though the door didn’t lock her in, she’d felt like a prisoner just the same.

  Rascal was growing like a weed and offered companionship, but he didn’t offer much in the way of robust conversation.

  She wiped her tears away when there was another knock at the door. She opened it so wee Gordon could enter with an armload of wood to put with the growing pile in the corner. He asked if she was well. She nodded as she had each day he’d come. He bowed to them and turned to take his leave.

  “Has Bryce sent you to check on Dorie?” Kenna asked the lad as Dorie poured them all a bit of ale to go with their light meal.

  “Aye. I come every day to bring wood and see that she is well.”

  “Yes, I see that.” Mari frowned as the boy took his leave.

  “Bryce should be ashamed of himself for leaving you here and not checking on you himself.”

  Dorie appreciated Kenna’s ire on her behalf, but she didn’t begrudge Bryce for not coming to visit. He’d hired the boy to check in. Bryce didn’t want her. That was clear. But he’d provided for her. That was all that could be expected. And she was grateful. It was more than she’d had in recent years.

  “Fear not,” Mari said with a smile. “We’ll see that you’re cared for.” The woman looked Dorie over and frowned yet again. “Is this the dress he had made for you?”

  Dorie nodded and crossed her arms. The woman who’d come to measure her complained about the extra fabric needed because of Dorie’s height and skimped on the length and other places that made Dorie uncomfortable.

  “This looks like the work of Sarah. The stingy old crow. She probably charged him for a full gown and had enough material left over to make a second.”

  Dorie tugged at the garment in an effort to cover more of herself and the seam ripped.

  Kenna let out a breath. “Tomorrow when we’re done in the kitchen, we’ll go to the solar and start sewing you something decent to wear. Do you sew?”

  Dorie nodded, though her skills were more functional than fashionable. She knew how to darn a sock and mend her ill-fitted gowns, but she wasn’t able to embroider or create any embellishments. Life at Baehaven had lacked embellishment of any kind.

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll see you in the morning.”

  She squeezed the women’s hands as they prepared to leave, hoping to convey her gratitude. Mari and Kenna had treated her as a friend. Dorie couldn’t thank them enough.

  “Everything will be fine soon,” Kenna promised. “We’ll see to that.”

  The look the sisters exchanged gave Dorie a moment of worry. They were smiling pleasantly, but even Dorie—who didn’t spend much time with people—heard an undertone of threat in the woman’s voice.

  Dorie pitied anyone who was unfortunate enough to upset Kenna MacKinlay.

  …

  Bryce had just sat at the table when the two ladies next to him turned to glare. He swiveled to see who they were casting their scowls at but saw no one beside him.

  That could only mean…

  Bloody hell.

  “What did I do?” It was best to get clarification first before launching into a defense.

  “We went to visit Dorie today. She’s been in her new home for a few weeks now. Have you stopped by to visit?”

  “Nay. That is to say, not yet,” he quickly revised when their eyes narrowed on him. “I haven’t had the chance.” He winced at the lie and ducked his head when it was clear the women didn’t believe him. “But I hired a lad to check in daily, and I provided more than a month’s worth of food. She should be fine for another week or so until I can visit.”

  “He provided food,” Kenna said to Mari in a deceptively pleasant tone. He knew the sisters were working up to a good dressing down. He wasn’t yet sure if it was deserved. Chances were good he was guilty of whatever fault they found in him.

  He glanced at Lach and Cam, who simply shook their heads in pity. Bollocks. There was no saving him.

  Mari, usually kinder than Kenna, smiled indulgently and tilted her head. “We did notice you provided ample ingredients.”

  “Kind of you, it was,” Kenna added, her eyes snapping with fire.

  He was clearly in trouble. He still couldn’t quite figure out why…

  “It seems…” Mari continued with her index finger poised at her lip in thought. The woman seemed polite and demure, but those hands had killed a duke with a fireplace poker, so Bryce was wise to be wary. “…you might have forgotten to make sure she knew how to use the supplies properly, in order to feed herself.”

  “Or might you have just dumped her there and run off without seeing if she needed anything more?” Kenna accused. “And before ye even think of blaming poor Gordon, he did exactly as you asked. He brought wood and asked if she was well. It wasn’t for the lad to notice she’d hardly used the wood. And even if she nodded in answer to his question, she most certainly isn’t well.”r />
  Bugger. Bryce frowned and let out a breath, realizing he deserved their anger. He was a piss-poor excuse for a husband—but he’d admitted to such before he took her to wife. Still, he should have done better by her. He’d practically shoved her into the cottage and run back to his old life. His life with no responsibilities save feeding himself and seeing to his own needs. Christ, he truly was the selfish bastard they accused him of being.

  In his defense, he had gone to check on her once, but he’d seen her walking in the village with Mari and Kenna and turned back before he was noticed. He’d seen enough to know she was clothed and had shoes.

  “I’ll go check on her tomorrow,” he said quickly.

  “No need. We’ve already invited her up to the castle tomorrow to teach her to cook and to help sew some new gowns for her,” Mari informed him.

  “But I bought her gowns.” In this he could not be judged. He’d even seen her wearing one of them that day in the village.

  “You ordered her gowns from Shifty Sarah McNaub. Those dresses are nothing but stingy scraps, and so thin they’ll never get her through winter. She needs something decent that actually fits.”

  “I bought her shoes,” he noted quietly, but stopped when their glare settled on him yet again. He’d had her shoes delivered instead of taking them to her himself to make sure they would fit.

  Shame turned the tips of his ears hot. He looked at the food on his tray and let out a breath. He couldn’t very well eat it now. Not knowing Dorie might be going hungry. What kind of man had he become? Letting his wife fend for herself in the cottage. Hadn’t he left Maggie and wee Isabel alone only to come home and find them dead? Was that what he wanted to happen to Dorie? He shuddered at the thought.

  She was not to blame for any of Bryce’s pain.

  He gathered some food and lurched to his feet. He gave them a nod before heading out of the hall toward the gate. As he strolled through the village, he remembered the feeling of excitement he used to experience when walking this path.

  Back then, he’d been returning home to Maggie. Even if he’d only been up at the castle for a day of drills she would grace him with a wide smile when he entered their home.

  If her hands were busy, he would walk up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, bending to kiss her neck until she squirmed. By then Isabel would be fretting for him to pick her up. He’d bend down and scoop her up, throwing her in the air to make her laugh until Maggie scolded him.

  It was a happy memory, one that twisted his stomach into knots when he remembered he wasn’t going to live it ever again.

  He reached the new cottage and paused outside to collect himself from the pain the memory had brought on. It was there, standing by the open window, that he heard an angel’s song. The female voice lifted and dropped fluidly with the notes of a happy tune. A dog barked and the singing stopped on a laugh.

  “You naughty boy. You are indeed a rascal. No more meat for ye. Sorry, I need to save it so we won’t starve.”

  Bryce gasped when he peeked through the window to see the only person in the cottage was his new wife. The woman who couldn’t speak.

  Or…didn’t speak.

  Rather than go inside and confront her, he turned and headed back toward the castle. He didn’t know how to manage the feeling in his chest that came from hearing her sing. For a moment, his spirits had lifted and he’d felt at peace.

  But when he realized the sound had come from Dorie, the weight of his duty came back tenfold. Not only was he married, despite his wish to never wed again, but it appeared he was bound for life to a liar.

  Dorie could speak. And not just speak, she could sing beautifully as well.

  Why had she lied?

  What was she up to?

  A frown creased his forehead as several possibilities flooded his mind.

  He hurried away from the cottage. She’d spoken of having meat, so he was assured she’d not go hungry today.

  Meanwhile, he would watch her to see what she was up to before confronting her. If she had been brought to Dunardry to report information back to the McCurdys, his marriage might be over before it could become an even bigger nuisance.

  …

  Dorie tossed and turned, her stomach hurting from whatever she’d eaten that wasn’t fit. Sweat ran from her brow into her hair. She sat up when the dog ran to the door barking and growling.

  Perhaps she’d poisoned her faithful friend as well. Stumbling to the door, she opened it and stepped out into the cool night air.

  A chill ran up her spine where her damp skin met the cold.

  Having moved too quickly, she bent to be sick in the weeds next to the cottage. The dog continued to bark savagely and took off into the trees.

  “And I’d thought you faithful,” she muttered as she went back inside. With her stomach empty, she felt better, if not a bit hungry. Rather than climb back into her sweat-dampened bed, she settled in a chair by the fire to wait for Rascal to return.

  Next she knew, it was morning and Rascal was barking to be let in. She stretched her aching back as she went to the door to let him in. When she gave him a pat he whimpered and her hand came back damp with blood.

  “What’s happened to you?” she asked. When she knelt next to him her balance went off. She felt weak from her sickness in the night. She shook off the dizziness and looked to the scrape on the back of her dog’s neck. The dog was no longer a puppy and seemed to grow a few inches per day. His head was as high as her hip. There was hardly another dog in the village bigger than Rascal.

  “Were you scrapping with some beast who got the best of you?” she asked. “Let’s clean you up. I’ve been invited to the castle today.”

  The dog let out a whine.

  “I know. I’ll miss you. Truth be told, I’m not feeling much up to it, but I don’t want them to think I’m ungrateful and don’t need their help.”

  She skipped the morning meal, unsure of what she’d eaten that had made her ill. Her appetite had not returned yet. Nothing she’d consumed had tasted bad, but she knew that wasn’t always the case. She settled on a few sips of water and left the cottage.

  Wincing up at the morning sun, she put a hand to her throbbing temple. The short walk to the castle felt like a tiring journey. Rascal followed along by her side until they got inside the bailey, and then he ran off after a cat. By the time Dorie arrived outside the kitchen, she needed to sit down.

  “Dorie? Are you not well?” The voice belonged to the one person she’d wished to see every moment in the last few weeks. Well, except for right now.

  Bryce came to stand before her, fear and worry in his eyes. “You’re sick?”

  She shook her head, making the pain worse. She groaned, feeling nauseous again.

  “Why didn’t you send for me if you are ill? I would have sent a healer. Come with me.”

  He lifted her into his arms and carried her inside, stopping to speak to a young man her age. “Liam, go find Abagail and send her to my chamber.”

  Despite the embarrassment of needing to be carried, Dorie knew it would have taken a good day to make it to Bryce’s room in her current state.

  He laid her in his bed and slipped off her new shoes. The movement was too much, and she jumped from the bed just in time to grab a basin and be sick. She coughed, and Bryce wiped her brow with a wet cloth, then helped her back into bed. She was almost too ill to be mortified that he’d seen her cast up her accounts.

  Kenna rushed into the room. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. I sent for Abagail.”

  “She’s gone to Fletcher Castle to see to my brother’s wife.”

  “Do they not have a healer?” His words snapped with frustration, causing Dorie to worry that she looked even worse than she felt. Why else would he be so frantic to have a healer see her?

  “Aye,” Kenna sa
id. “But not one I trust as much as Abagail. I can see to Dorie. Don’t worry.”

  Bryce let out a sound of impatience and turned away from Dorie while running his hand roughly through his hair. She realized then that Kenna was right. He was worried over her. She had to admit, she rather liked the thought of it. Even as much as she wished she hadn’t given him reason to be concerned.

  “She’s weak and I think her head pains her.”

  She looked up at her husband in surprise. How observant he was to have known that from the short time he’d been with her this morning.

  “How long have you been ill?” Kenna asked as she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “She can’t talk,” Bryce was quick to say. He paced once and shook his head. “She doesn’t talk,” he amended.

  His gaze was intent on hers. Perhaps he was even more observant than she’d realized. Had she spoken aloud since leaving her cottage? She didn’t think so. But it was clear he questioned whether her silence was not an inability but rather a desire to stay quiet.

  She looked away first, proving her guilt. She might as well have spoken up right then and told him he was right.

  Her heart pounded, though in truth it had been pounding hard already. Rather than address Bryce’s accusation, she looked to Kenna and motioned in a way to communicate that she’d gotten sick only the night before.

  “Did you eat something that tasted bad?” Kenna asked.

  Dorie gave it a moment of thought, though she’d been considering it since the night before when she’d fallen ill. She shook her head now, after coming to the same conclusion.

  She rubbed her chest as her heart continued to beat uneasily.

  Kenna noticed the motion and came closer to put her hand in the same place. “Your heart is beating rapidly. Did that start last night as well?”

  Dorie nodded.

  Kenna frowned. “Did your beast eat the same thing you ate?”

  Dorie paused before nodding again. She didn’t want Bryce to know she’d fed the food he’d purchased for her to the dog, but she couldn’t let Rascal go hungry. And she didn’t want him leaving to go looking for scraps.