Her Reluctant Highlander Husband (Clan MacKinlay)

by Hanson, Allison B.

  Dorie nodded and looked down at her hands, her fingers twisted. She took a few deep breaths and relaxed. She appreciated her father’s honesty, and no harm had really been done.

  She cleared her throat and looked up at the man who obviously cared about her enough to go to so much trouble and expense to see her happy. What a difference from the horrible man she’d thought was her father.

  “It’s fine, Papa. I know he wouldn’t have come even if you’d not forced him to stay away. It’s foolish of me to waste time hoping he will come when I know in my heart he won’t. Let’s go to the ball. I’ll give Lord Reginald a chance. As you’ve said, it’s time for me to press on.”

  “I’m so sorry. If you’d rather, I can send a letter stating I’ll not support their cause unless he comes to London to see you.”

  She laughed at his change of heart. He was willing to do anything for her, and that brought tears to her eyes. She was loved. She wasn’t loved by her husband. But she was loved by her family.

  “Nay.” She leaned up to kiss her father on the cheek. “But thank you. I wouldn’t want him to come because he was forced to do so. I do have some pride.” She smiled.

  “You are an amazing woman. The men will be lining up to ask me for your hand. I shall sharpen a stick and keep it at hand to fend them all off.”

  She laughed and smacked his arm. “I’m afraid the dancing instructor was far too full of himself to teach me anything of value. You’ll be lucky if we make it through the night without having to replace someone’s shoes.”

  They were still laughing when they entered the hall to find Harriet watching them. Dorie knew the worry on the woman’s face was for her. Even though this woman wasn’t related by blood, it was clear she cared.

  She hugged the woman tightly. “All is well,” Dorie assured her.

  “I’ve confessed my sins and my eldest has forgiven me,” her father said. “Let’s go tread on some shoes, shall we?” He held out his elbow and gave Harriet a smile. He offered his other elbow to Dorie and she took it, eager to get on with it.

  Dorie stepped out of the house determined to find someone who could help mend her broken heart. Or at the very least survive a dance with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “You asked for me?” Bryce said when he entered the laird’s study. Lach was playing with his boys and there was happiness in his eyes when he looked up.

  “Aye.” He stood and placed a hand on each of the bairns’ heads before coming closer. “It’s time for you to go to the Campbell and ask for men.”

  Bryce understood and agreed. He had put it off long enough. It was time to face his father, as well as the memories of another woman he’d lost far too soon. His mother was buried on the Campbell lands. While his father might not still mourn her, Bryce did.

  Lach held out a letter. “Take this to the laird.”

  “Ah, so I’m a messenger now?” Bryce knew better than to snap at Lach. He wasn’t angry with the laird. And he didn’t mind taking the letter with him. His cousin was simply an easy target.

  “I’m hoping you’ll be able to sway your father to help talk the laird into helping us. Lairds listen to their chiefs.”

  Bryce snorted. “Ye don’t listen to a bloody thing I say.”

  “Not true. I listen. I just don’t always agree with what you say. Thus the reason for the letter.” He gave Bryce a swat on the shoulder.

  The truth was, Bryce and Lach rarely agreed on how to handle things. But it wasn’t Bryce’s clan to run.

  “You’ll see this done?” Lach lifted a brow in question.

  Bryce felt a pinch of insult. The laird knew better than to question his loyalty or obedience. Bryce might not always agree or appreciate his orders, but he always—always—carried them through. Even if it had him married when he didn’t want it.

  A familiar pain tightened in his chest at the thought of Dorie. He swallowed and shook it off, grateful he’d managed to keep enough distance from her that the pain hadn’t grown into what he’d felt after Maggie’s death. He was right to sign the annulment. It was the best thing for Dorie. For both of them.

  “You know I’ll do what you ask.” Bryce allowed his irritation to color his tone.

  “Just not without a comment about it.” Lach smirked and Bryce had to admit he was right about that.

  Bryce smiled. “It’s my way. You’d wonder what was wrong with me if I didn’t push you on such matters.”

  Lach was younger, after all. Growing up, Bryce had always been the one in charge of their adventures. And the one responsible for the punishment when those adventures didn’t work out so well.

  Lach nodded. “Godspeed, and know I’ll stand by whatever decision you make.”

  Bryce’s eyes narrowed on his cousin. What did he mean by that? There was no decision Bryce needed to make. He would go to the Campbells and ask for men. He’d either manage an agreement or he wouldn’t.

  The choice wasn’t up to him.

  Not many choices were.

  …

  Since the choice was up to her, Dorie decided Lord Reginald Truman was never going to be her new husband. He was nice enough, and even handsome, but he didn’t make her heart flutter, and she was rather relieved when he walked off to speak to someone else.

  She was grateful that until the annulment arrived from Scotland, she wasn’t free to marry anyway.

  She tried her best to seem impressed by all the sights in London, but in truth, she felt suffocated in the city. The number of people was overwhelming, and she just wanted to take a walk and toss stones into a loch. Not that she could do that in Durham, either, but the country estate was closer to the Highlands than the city.

  “We’re going back to Durham,” her father announced one evening as they were waiting to leave for the theater. Dorie had just reached the door and paused outside in the hall to prepare herself. It wouldn’t do to be overly excited. He might think she didn’t appreciate his efforts.

  It didn’t change the fact that she was overcome with relief at this news. A wide smile pulled up on her lips.

  “So soon?” Harriet asked in surprise from inside the parlor.

  “Yes. In truth, we shouldn’t have come at all. It was premature to bring her here for a match. Not when we haven’t received the signed annulment from Scotland.”

  Harriet pushed out a breath. “Do you really think he’ll sign it? Dorie is such a wonderful young woman. I can’t imagine anyone letting her get away.”

  “I have no doubt that when the man gets his head out of his arse he will regret his decision. But he is likely too bloody stubborn to do anything about it.”

  “I don’t think Dorie is going to get over him. She hasn’t shown the slightest interest in anyone she’s met so far.”

  “Then we’ll just have to try harder. The Duke of Sheffield will be in residence when we return. Perhaps his son.”

  “He’s just eighteen, Dorien. Your daughter won’t want a boy after she’s been married to a man.”

  Her father let out a groan. “I hope you’re not talking of physical pleasure, Harriet. I don’t want to think of such things.”

  Dorie heard Harriet chuckle. And to her surprise she heard the sound of a kiss. In the months she’d lived with her father and his wife, she’d never seen any physical contact between the two of them.

  It was clear there had been. Four children didn’t come from the fairies. But listening to Dorien and Harriet now, knowing they’d shared a kiss, made her think there was more between them than she’d originally thought. Perhaps there was even a chance they were in love but didn’t realize it. Could it be that her father only had the one love with her mother to compare? Maybe there were different kinds of love. Such as familial love, and the love she felt for Rascal. Perhaps there were different levels of romantic love as well. A first love might be stronger or more passi
onate than a more mature love.

  She stepped into the parlor to find them in an embrace with smiles on their faces. It was clear to her that her father loved this woman in some way. It might not be the fiery emotion he’d felt for her mother, but there was love.

  For a moment Dorie thought there might be hope for her to find the same thing with Bryce. But then she remembered he’d not come for her, nor had he written. Chances were he was glad to be alone again.

  She appreciated her father trying to make her happy, but she was beginning to realize that might be an impossible task.

  …

  “The laird’s not available. He might be able to see you in a few days.”

  “Bloody hell,” Bryce complained. He just wanted to get the task done and go back home. He didn’t like being here. It churned up too many memories.

  Good and bad.

  “What do you mean, unavailable? Is he here or no?”

  The man smiled. “Oh, he’s here, all right. But he just got married and he and his bride are tucked away in their chamber, if ye ken.”

  Bryce understood perfectly, but in case he didn’t, the man pumped his hips to make it disgustingly clear.

  Disrupting the laird’s activities with his new wife was a sure way to be sent away with no men to aid their fight. “Who’s in charge while he’s away?” he tried.

  “His son.” The man nodded toward the hall. “Might as well get something to eat until he wakes.”

  “Wakes? It’s near noon.”

  “Aye. The lad likes his drink along with tiring himself with the lasses.”

  “Christ,” Bryce cursed and wiped a hand over his face. “Where’s Thomas Campbell? He’s the war chief now, I understand.”

  “Aye. He’d be in the hall as well.”

  Bryce stepped into the crowded hall and looked toward the main table. He saw his father right away.

  His father saw him, too, and jumped up in surprise. “Bryce, my son!” he yelled, bringing everyone seated to abrupt silence and stares.

  Bryce frowned and made his way to the front table. “Father. How do you fare?”

  “Well, well. And you?”

  “Good.”

  “What brings you here? Are you planning to join us?” The hope in his eyes made Bryce uneasy.

  “Nay.” His father had sent him away when he was fifteen. He was no longer a Campbell, even though he claimed the name. His loyalty belonged to the MacKinlays. “I came to speak to your laird and ask if you would join us.”

  His father looked at the other men around the table in confusion.

  “The MacKinlays plan to take over the McCurdy clan, and we’d like to have the Campbells by our side when we do,” Bryce explained.

  Thomas smiled. “We’ve been waiting for the bastards to grow weaker from lack of coin, but so far they aren’t yielding. They put all the money they have to keeping their warriors fitted out and ready for defense.”

  “Do you think our two armies could take them if we joined forces?”

  His father turned toward him. “Perhaps, but I’m not sure the young Campbell will side with you over the McCurdy. Best to wait to speak to the laird. Jathen is unreliable.”

  “I wanted to have the task done so I could return home. But I suppose I will have to wait until the laird grows tired.” Bryce let out a sigh.

  “You should think of remaining. The laird’s youngest daughter is of age. You could marry her.”

  “Aren’t you wed to the laird’s daughter?” Bryce may have missed news of yet another marriage.

  “Aye. But from a different mother. Our marriage assured my position as war chief. The match has brought a lot of power.”

  “I am already war chief of Clan MacKinlay.”

  “But you and I—together—could sway decisions with the Campbells.”

  “Besides, I’m already married,” Bryce said without thinking. It wasn’t exactly true anymore. He’d signed the annulment. He was free to marry again. Not that he would. Especially not to the Campbell lass. And not just because he was having difficulty figuring out their relationship. Would his stepmother also be his sister-in-law?

  It didn’t matter. He moved on.

  His father’s eyes went wide. “That surprises me. I didna think you planned to wed again after your dear Maggie.”

  “I didn’t want to. But it was my duty.”

  His father nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “I understand. You know how bad off I was after your ma died. But I had to remarry to have someone to take care of you.”

  “Except your new wife didna want to take care of me, so I got shipped off to my mother’s clan instead.”

  “Och.” He waved the comment away. “It was for the best. You just said you’re their war chief. Now tell me of your lass. Was it a good match?”

  And just like that, his abandonment was brushed aside. Bryce didn’t press it. There was no use. Instead, he allowed his father to change the subject.

  “She’s a McCurdy,” he said. That wasn’t exactly true, either, but it was much easier than explaining the confusing truth of it.

  The other man’s lip curled in disgust. He leaned closer and whispered, “I’ll not tell a soul you’re already wed. You can come here and marry again. No one will have to know. Leave the MacKinlays with their own trouble.”

  Bryce snorted at the suggestion. It was just like his father to turn his back on a vow of honor for the sake of convenience. The man lived only for himself and what others could give him. Those who had nothing to offer were discarded and shipped off so as not to cause him any bother.

  Even if they were his son.

  “I’ll wait to talk to the laird. Then I must return.” Even if no one would be there waiting for him.

  “Bah!” Thomas shook his head. “You’re loyal like your ma.”

  “Aye,” Bryce said proudly. A man was only as good as his word. Lach’s father—the old laird—had taught him that. He’d taken up the void left by Bryce’s da, and Bryce felt a better man because of it.

  Bryce was served his meal, and he listened to the men as he ate. They were much like the warriors at Dunardry, speaking of battles and lasses. No doubt, each time they told their tales they sounded better and better, their foes and their women’s breasts both growing larger with each telling.

  Bryce chuckled, thinking he might have been happy here if he’d stayed. Perhaps if he had, Maggie and Isabel wouldn’t have gotten ill and died.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d thought such a thing, but it was the first time he’d thought it and realized he could have made it work. If he’d only tried.

  He swallowed down the guilt and left the castle to go see his mother’s grave. It was too early for flowers so he visited her empty-handed. Sitting on the ground he told her all the things he’d been worrying over.

  “I let her go before she could cause me the type of pain Maggie caused. Or you caused.” That last part came out in a sneer, and it wasn’t until he’d heard the words spoken aloud that he realized he was angry with his mother.

  She’d been the first to leave him.

  “I’m a bitter mess,” he told her. “I don’t want to be like this, but I don’t know how else to be.” He shook his head and smiled. “I hope you’re with Maggie and wee Isabel. Give them a kiss for me. I love you all.” He kissed his fingertips and touched them to her stone before heading back to the castle.

  He needed to stop by the village before he left. There was someone else he must visit. But perhaps not today. He’d dredged up enough ghosts for now.

  He hadn’t seen Walter since he’d been here after Maggie’s death to tell the man his daughter and granddaughter had died. Bryce barely remembered the trip. Cam had come with him. Had guided him when he was so drunk he nearly fell off his horse. At the time, it was the only way he’d been able to function—
by numbing the pain with drink.

  Eventually Cam and Lach had forced him to deal with it another way. They’d allowed him to rage at them, even fighting with swords, until he was so exhausted he could no longer get up. When he’d awoken, he’d felt a change. The pain had lessened enough that he could breathe. But a dull anger had taken its place. The sun hadn’t shone as bright, the sky had no longer been as blue.

  Or at least it hadn’t been until Dorie came into his life.

  But now she was gone, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It was raining again, which did nothing to bolster Dorie’s mood. Her younger siblings had entertained her after the family’s return to Durham, but now they’d been called away for lessons, leaving Dorie to sit and think.

  Thinking led to wishing, which led to hoping and dreaming. All things she’d spent too much time doing in her past. After her mother’s death she’d sat in her prison and wished for someone to come for her. Hoped for someone to care and dreamed of having a husband and family.

  Her time with Bryce had been a mockery of those dreams. She’d thought he might at least miss her enough to send a note. Perhaps see how she fared in her new life. But nothing.

  When someone knocked on her door, she nearly didn’t answer. She wanted to be left alone in her misery. Which was a testament to how much she’d changed. Months ago she would have wanted a visitor more than anything and wouldn’t have wanted to spend another minute alone in her room.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  Her father opened the door and entered. “Are you well?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. I’m just…” She looked out the window as if the end of the sentence lived out there on the lane she’d been watching for days.

  “He’s not coming,” her father said, his voice low and flat.

  “I know,” she agreed. “I thought mayhap he would send a letter, at least. Simply scratch a few words and send them off. Would that be so difficult?”

  He swallowed and took her hand. “I’m waiting for a letter from Scotland as well.”