Everything she’d done to prove she could be more than just a wife had been for nothing. The deepest, darkest part of her swallowed her in a pain so deep her whole body went numb but also ached for what she had lost.
Her sister-in-law’s voice cut through her drowning misery. “Why did you marry the heretic?”
Why would the lass say such a thing? They were friends, sisters.
Silence followed, and she was about to burst into the room to defend herself, but Finlay’s voice cut through the air. “Because of ye two. The hell I went through as a child because ye couldnae see past that I was yer father’s bastard.”
No one responded. She felt herself tilting sideways, although her feet remained planted on the ground.
“I married her because a dead man’s seed grows in her belly, and I didn’t want that child to be treated the way ye treated me.”
Her hand fell to her flat abdomen. She wasn’t with child. Why would he think such a thing?
Now he thought her a traitor and believed she tricked him into marriage for the sake of a child. Henry’s babe. Bile rose to her throat and burned. He could set her aside. Leave her. Break her heart. The rending of something in her chest had her swaying as the world around fell out of focus. Did he not love her in return?
She choked on nothing but air. If Finlay set her aside, her father would chain her to Bruce and send her away with instructions to never let her come back. Her husband would never again hold her in his comforting arms.
Her knees buckled, but before she hit the ground, strong hands caught her waist. She glanced up to see warm, sad, hazel eyes. The Earl of Middlesbrough looked at her with what could have been regret and sorrow. She shook her head and pulled free then picked up her skirts and fled down the hall. She had to find a safe place to think, so she could face this once Finlay had calmed down. There was no use trying to defend herself in a room full of men who all thought her a harlot and traitor.
She just needed to breathe. The lavender fields.
Once she broke out into the yard and sought out the peace of the fragrant flower, she could finally draw air into her lungs again.
Finlay had married her because he’d thought she carried Henry’s bairn, which might have been the only thing that saved her from the fate he had planned. But she had no babe in her belly to prevent him from tossing her aside.
She was already branded a traitor. She wasn’t. But how could she prove it to men who never believed women and thought of them only as bedmates? And how could she prove to Finlay that he had become the most important part of her life? She could no longer imagine a world without her husband, and it would destroy her if he sent her away.
She continued on toward the lavender until a dark figure stepped from the bushes and stopped her in her tracks.
…
Finlay’s father cut into the room. He was all earl and commanded everyone’s attention without saying a word. He pinned Finlay with a fury he’d not seen since his father confronted his brothers about trying to get him kicked out of Oxford. He’d never thought to see his father that angry again and definitely didn’t expect it to be directed at him.
“Do you not have any feelings for your wife?”
Stunned, he didn’t know what to say.
“I haven’t seen a woman so upset since I told your mother I was pledged to another. She looked like her world had just ended.”
His mouth went dry as his pulse quickened. “What are ye talking about?”
“Blair. She was standing outside and heard everything you said.” His father pointed a finger at him. “That she was in league with a man named Bruce and that you had married her because she was with someone else’s child. Did she know that? Because it didn’t appear so.”
Coming from his father’s lips, it all sounded ridiculous. Blair had become his reason for being, and there was no mistaking the way she’d looked at him last night. She would never have done anything to harm him. The loss of blood and his brother’s presence were the only reasons for this madness. She would have a good explanation.
“I have to find Blair.” He couldn’t let her go on believing she didn’t matter to him. She was everything. He bolted for the door.
Rushing past his father, he dashed into the hall and looked both ways. She was gone. Turning back toward the earl, he yelled, “Which way did she go?”
“The kitchens.”
Blair was nowhere in sight, so he darted for the door. He held his hand above his eyes to shield it from the sun as he stumbled down the stairs. About thirty feet away, his wife stood facing Bruce Graham, who was ten feet from her. She was shaking her head and backing toward the house.
Bruce noticed Finlay and ran toward her. “Stop or I’ll kill him in front of ye, Blair.”
His wife froze. She swiveled to see him there, and he noticed sheer terror in her gaze. The arse made his way toward her as she hesitated.
“My lady, get away from him. I won’t let him hurt you again.” Jenny appeared from the direction of the stables. She rushed toward Bruce and Blair, a big stick in her hand.
“Stop,” Finlay yelled at the housekeeper, holding up a hand.
“That man assaulted her in the village.” The housekeeper pointed the club at Bruce.
“Bruce,” he called. “She is married to me. If ye go back to Scotland now, I’ll forgive yer trespass here.” If he reasoned with the man, perhaps he could talk him down. He could sense his family standing behind him, and their presence was reassuring.
“Nae. She’ll be coming back with me. I have no home to go back to without her.”
Bruce’s attention darted between everyone like a caged bird looking for escape. His clothes were dingy, and he’d lost weight and muscle since the last time Finlay had seen him. Desperation from his state of exile must be driving the man. He had to get Blair away.
“Is that why ye set the stables on fire last night? To get to Blair?”
“Nae. That wasnae me. ’Twas her and her friend.”
Finlay looked in the direction Bruce pointed.
Prudence? Her gaze darted between everyone as her calm demeanor flipped to that of a rabbit cornered by a dog.
Impossible. She was the most pious woman he knew.
“She was with the tall man. The one who came to see ye on yer first day back.”
“Mr. Gerrick?” Finlay assumed the man had left town.
“Aye. If that’s his name. I saw him start the fire while the lass snuck into the house.”
A scream rent the air when one of the new servants came out into the yard. His attention was pulled that way for only a second, but when he refocused on Bruce Graham, the man wore a wicked grin and had a pistol aimed at his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Stay away from my wife. Harming me will only see ye to the dungeons,” Finlay said calmly as the Cameron men joined Finlay’s family in the yard. Brodie, Tristan, and Malcolm all pulled sheaths from their backs, readying their claymores in her husband’s defense.
Bruce’s jaw tightened as his hand on the trigger appeared to tense.
Although he didn’t have his sword, Finlay looked like he was ready to charge. At least he was still calling her his wife.
“She will be going back to Scotland with me. She was supposed to marry me.”
“What makes ye think that?”
“Because I need her. The Grahams willnae take me back if I cannae prove useful.” Bruce reached for Blair, but she moved away, keeping just enough distance that his clammy hands couldn’t wrap around her.
“Ye cannae have her.”
All the men followed Finlay’s advance, apparently undaunted by the pistol aimed at her husband.
“Halt.” Bruce waved the gun to both sides, his hand steady as if unfazed by being outnumbered. When they continued to inch forward, he turned the gun toward her, and the men stopped. Sweat dripped down his brow. A breeze blew, and she caught a whiff of something like burnt paper, giving her the impression he’d fired the gun r
ecently. If she’d only held onto that knife, she could drive it into Bruce’s cold heart.
Bruce Graham was either going to kill her or her husband. It couldn’t end any other way.
She was faced with a decision—either take the bullet and save her husband, the man who thought her a traitor, or let him kill Finlay.
There was no choice. Regretting that it would be the only time she’d ever be given the chance to do so, she mouthed the words etched on her heart and hoped Finlay could see she meant them with all of her being.
Rounding on Bruce, she threw her hands into his arm to force him to aim it toward the sky. She thought she heard Finlay scream something, but her head jerked back, and a loud noise rang in her ear, stunning her.
Bruce stopped struggling. He let go of her and gaped.
Red liquid streamed down her face, covering her eye and cheek, then she felt as if the world were tilting.
…
Fear gripped Finlay, holding him in a state of icy paralysis as Bruce aimed the weapon at Blair’s head. Time stood still, and years ticked off his life. His wife stood taller, then stilled, looked at him, and mouthed, “I love ye.”
His heart dropped into the depths of his belly.
“Nae.” The word escaped his mouth, but he was already running. Covering the impossible distance in the blink of an eye, but also so slowly he thought the world would end before he could reach her.
He was halfway there when he heard a bang so deafening his ears rang. His wife fell to the ground just before he plowed into the arse and knocked him to the earth.
When he pivoted and rushed to kneel beside Blair, the Cameron men pinned Bruce to the ground and divested him of any weapons.
Finlay took her head in his lap as blood poured from her wound. Her eyes were closed, and her body lay limp. Nae. Nae. His gut twisted as he fought back the nausea. Och, God, nae, he couldn’t lose her. And he had to tell her he was sorry, and that he’d not meant any of the things that he’d blurted out in his study.
She’d said she loved him. How had he ever doubted her? She couldn’t be gone, but her body was lifeless. And he felt as if he were being ripped in two as his heart struggled to beat.
“Nae, nae.” His eyes stung, the world around him spinning as his focus centered on the only part of his life that mattered, the woman who had made him finally feel worthy.
He placed his head to her chest. The sound of her breath eluded him, but that could be because his own frantic panting was so loud and painful that he couldn’t think. When he lifted her back up, blood stained the front of his shirt.
He had to get help. Had to help her. His gaze shot skyward, praying for anything that would bring his Blair back.
Jenny knelt beside him, tearing the sleeve from her gown. “We have to stop the bleeding,” she said. The lass pulled another strip of fabric as he nodded. “Hold her steady.”
He cradled the base of her skull as the red liquid continued to pour from the wound near her forehead, soaking into his plaid. With all the blood, there was no way to judge the extent of the damage.
“The physician is in the village. I just came from there. We need to take her now.” The housekeeper tied off the strips.
Just as she did, Blair’s eyes fluttered open. Hope flared to life as her eyes started to focus and moved toward him. He was vaguely aware of Jenny shouting at someone to bring him his horse.
His wife gave a small smile, as if to say, good, yer still here. Her eyes closed again. Nae. She had to keep them open. He had to know she was all right.
“Blair.” She groaned but didn’t open them. “Look at me.” Her lids slowly rose again as if she were waking, groggy from an early morning dream. “Can ye talk?”
“Aye.” But the word was weak and raspy.
“I’m going to stand up with ye now. We have to get ye help.”
She dabbed near the injury.
He wanted to tell her to leave it be, but it was good to see her moving.
“Hold her head,” he told the housekeeper as he slid his leg out from under her. Carefully cradling his wife, he lifted her in his arms.
Brodie rode up and held out his arms. Finlay gently placed her there as her eyes continued to open and close.
“Stay awake, Blair,” he whispered to her as he turned to mount Hedwynn and noticed his father and brothers huddled around Prudence.
Brodie lifted Blair and drew her gently in.
“Thank ye.” Finlay started out at a sedate pace, not wanting to rock her head and cause more damage.
But she looked up at him and said, “I’m fine. It’s just the blood.”
He picked up the pace. “Ye have to be all right. I cannae do this without ye.”
A small smile lit her lips, and his heart started back up again. Her eyes misted. “I amnae with child.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry.” A tear ran down her cheek. Nae, nae, nae, he didn’t want to see her cry. “I dinnae have Henry’s child in my belly. I never did. I dinnae ken why ye thought so. I never would ha—” She winced as a jolt from the ride shook her.
“Shh, ’tis all right,” he said as he slowed the pace. But then his words churned in his head. In anger and confusion, he had said awful things, and she’d overheard all of them. And she’d never told him she was going to have a babe. He’d just assumed it. “I didnae mean those things I said.”
“I never would have deceived ye about something like that.” Another tear streamed down her cheek and disappeared into the blood. His chest constricted.
“I didnae mean what I said. I would have married ye anyway. Ye are smart and bonny and a Royalist. Ye’re all I’ve ever wanted in a wife.” His breath hitched. “I’m so sorry. I didnae mean it. Ye are all I’ve ever wanted.”
And, when they had a child, it would be his babe that grew in her belly. He would have loved their bairn no matter what, but the thought of them sharing the whole experience together made his heart soar.
“That makes me very happy,” she said, but she started crying in earnest now, convulsing with the sobs.
“Och, please dinnae cry.”
She laughed then. Thank heaven she giggled. Closing her eyes, she snuggled the uninjured side of her head next to his chest.
“We’ll talk about all this later. Ye are going to be all right, and we’ll have plenty of time to straighten it out.” He said it as much to reassure himself as her, but hell, he was worried, not knowing the extent of her injury.
In the village, he pulled to a stop in front of the physician’s home to discover Brodie, Jenny, and Malcolm already there. Once dismounted, with Brodie’s help, Finlay entered the small space smelling of medicinals and whisky.
The healer said, “I cannot do my job with you in here. You will have to wait outside.”
But Finlay couldn’t leave her. What if…oh God, he couldn’t even think it. He shook his head.
“I’ll be all right.” But, Blair didn’t open her eyes. The words came out strained as if she was fighting the pain and didn’t want him to know it. The healer crossed his arms and glared at him.
“Blair.” He wanted to make sure she could hear him.
“Um hum.”
“I’ll be right outside. Yell for me if ye need me.”
Jenny took his hand and pulled him toward the door. “Ye must let the man do his job. She will be fine.”
Brodie placed a hand on his back and propelled him forward. Finlay went out reluctantly, and the breath once again disappeared from his chest. Pacing outside, he let everything roll around in his head. It was all he could do while he waited to find out if his wife would survive.
He turned to Brodie. “What happened to Bruce?”
“He has been detained. He willnae harm anyone ever again.
He kept pacing. Trying to think of anything except for what could be happening with his wife in that house.
His mind turned toward the other threat. “Bruce said Prudence was with Mr. Gerrick. My account ledgers were miss
ing after the fire.” It couldn’t be Prudence. She’d always been so nice to him.
“She came to Catriona House while you were visiting the king. I saw her looking at your books when I brought refreshments in for her and my lady.” Jenny closed her eyes and shook her head. “I knew there wasn’t something right about that girl.”
Brodie chimed in, “I think yer brothers are questioning her now.”
Jenny went into the house to check on Blair. When Finlay tried to follow, Brodie stopped him. “I ken ’tis hard, but if ye distract the physician, he may no’ be able to help her.”
His eyes started to sting then.
“She will be all right. Head wounds bleed a lot, and she seemed coherent, so I dinnae think there is much damage.”
He prayed the man was right, but all he could do was nod and keep moving, because if he stopped, his world might end.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Och, it hurts.” Gently tapping at the area on her temple, Blair sat up from what felt like hours of torture. The procedure had most likely only been half an hour of prodding and stitching, but it had reminded her of the cat attack in her youth. Thankfully, the physician’s wife had been there to talk her through it. She’d even offered her a dram of whisky to alleviate the pain. She’d drunk it, but she wasn’t sure it had helped.
“Yes, I imagine it does. You are lucky to be alive.” The physician shook his head as he turned and ambled toward the exit after his wife disappeared into another room.
“Is she all right?” Finlay sounded anxious.
“Yes, she just needs a bit of time to heal.”
“Can I see her?”
“Yes, you can take her home.”
Och, but would he want her to go home with him? Her stomach turned, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the drink, the injury, or the thought of being sent away.
Hands trembling, she swung her legs off the bed and started to stand. The physician stepped back, and Finlay rushed to her side. “How are ye feeling?”
“It hurts.” That wasn’t exactly right, it felt like her head had been split open and throbbed as if someone were jumping on it repeatedly.
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