The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1)

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Thank God,” she said. “I would have been sunk without Aunt Margaret and Underhill to safeguard me from . . . well, you know.”

  Whenever Royal thought of the marquess, he wanted to punch something—preferably Cringlewood’s rotten face.

  “I wondered why you wouldn’t stay in Glasgow for Nick and Victoria’s wedding celebration,” he said. “It seemed odd at the time.”

  “I wanted to be there,” she said. “But I was beginning to gain too much weight.”

  He’d noticed she was plumper as soon as he first laid eyes on her in the Glasgow Assembly Rooms in December. She’d carried it well—and still carried it well—but he’d had no idea of the cause. No one had, except possibly Victoria, and she’d never breathed a word.

  “When did you know you were . . .” He waved a vague hand in the direction of her stomach.

  Ainsley blushed. “Well, um . . .”

  Lady Margaret rolled her eyes. “It is beyond me why the young people today are so missish. When I was young, we didn’t mince words on such matters. Ainsley became pregnant at the end of August.”

  Again, it all made perfect sense. “Which means you could give birth at any time.”

  “Not according to the physician,” Ainsley said with a sigh. “He thinks another three weeks, at least.”

  “Good Lord, you’re as big as a house,” Royal said. “Ah, what I mean is—”

  “I know what you mean,” she groused. “It seems impossible that I could get any bigger.”

  “Dr. MacTavish is an imbecile,” Lady Margaret said. “I feel sure you’ll go into labor within the next few days.”

  Alarm spiked in Royal’s gut. “The physician is an imbecile? Then why the hell are you letting him anywhere near Ainsley?”

  “Dr. MacTavish is actually very good,” Ainsley said. She put her teacup on the low table between them and wriggled her body around until she could put her feet on the floor. “He’s been attending to Lady Margaret for years.”

  “And ordering me around for years,” she grumbled. “Telling me not to drink whisky or take snuff. He’s more of an old woman than I am.”

  “Most importantly, he’s discreet,” Ainsley said. “He’s very loyal to my aunt and has sworn to keep my secret.”

  “That’s not the most important thing,” Royal said. “The most important thing is that you have a physician who knows what he’s doing. You should not be endangering yourself in any way, Ainsley.”

  “I’ll be in more danger if my secret gets out.”

  “Christ in Heaven, are you saying your reputation is more important than your life?”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t need to fuss about this, really.”

  “Someone has to,” he snapped. “You’re as pale as a ghost and you’re obviously in pain. I’m writing to Nick tomorrow and having him send our doctor up to see you.”

  When panic flared in her beautiful gaze, he got a bit of a shock. Ainsley looked terrified, and nothing had ever terrified her before.

  “Dr. MacTavish is perfectly capable of attending my niece’s delivery,” Lady Margaret said, reversing course. “Lord knows he’s delivered enough squalling brats over the years, and Ainsley is perfectly healthy. I’m sure there won’t be an issue.”

  “But—”

  “The village midwife is taking care of me too,” Ainsley said. “She’s very experienced.”

  He couldn’t help but worry. Childbirth was a dangerous time for a woman, as he well knew. His own mother had died bringing Kade into the world, and her traumatic death had wrought devastation on his family. If anything happened to Ainsley . . .

  “Royal, please,” she said in a tight voice. “Let it go.”

  He moved to join her on the chaise. She stared up at him, her violet gaze wide and pleading. She was frightened and it was obvious it had nothing to do with her impending labor.

  When he took her hand, her palm was damp. “All right, sweetheart. I’ll let it alone, but only if you promise me that the doctor and midwife really are competent.”

  She sagged forward with relief. “Yes, I promise they are.”

  “There is no need for foolish heroics. I have the matter quite in hand,” Lady Margaret said, making a huffy noise. “I know how to take care of my own niece, sir.”

  “I apologize, my lady,” Royal said. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

  “As if you care about offending people,” Ainsley said. She took up a napkin from the tea tray and blotted her cheeks and forehead.

  Royal eyed her. She’d recovered her equanimity, but she was perspiring and looked utterly worn out.

  She gave him a wan smile. “I’m a little overheated. The midwife says it’s completely normal at this stage.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” he said with a reassuring smile. “So, the midwife is to be trusted to keep the secret as well?”

  “Mrs. Peters wouldn’t be allowed near Ainsley otherwise,” Lady Margaret said.

  Taking in her stern countenance, Royal could believe it. Still . . .

  “Tell me how you’ve been managing these last few months. After all, people do know you’re visiting your aunt. Don’t they wonder why you’ve gone into seclusion?”

  Ainsley shot her aunt a disgusted look. “Aunt Margaret has told everyone I’m suffering from melancholy and occasionally even fall into bouts of hysteria. Dr. MacTavish has recommended total seclusion and complete bedrest.”

  When Lady Margaret flashed him a smug grin, Royal had to chuckle. Ainsley was not a woman prone to hysterics.

  “I’m glad you both find it so amusing,” Ainsley grumbled. “Because I’ll never live it down.”

  “Better than Cringlewood finding out your secret,” Lady Margaret replied.

  Royal’s amusement suffered a quick death. Ainsley refused to meet his eye, but he could sense anxiety curling within her like a tangled skein of yarn.

  “Yes, about that,” he said.

  When the clock on the mantelpiece chimed, Lady Margaret looked surprised.

  “Heavens, look at the time,” she said. “I must be off to bed.” It was only nine o’clock, but her attitude suggested they’d been carousing for hours. “Now, where did I leave my confounded cane?”

  Royal fetched it from under her chair, and then gave her a hand to rise.

  “How nice to have a brawny fellow around the house,” she said. “If I were twenty years younger, I wouldn’t mind looking under your kilt, my lad. Poor Hector is rather long in the tooth for that sort of thing.”

  “And if you were twenty years younger, I might let you,” he replied with a grin.

  “Ugh. You’re both going to make me ill,” Ainsley said.

  “Fah, my dear,” her aunt said. “I know exactly what you’re thinking about this handsome young buck. Not that you can do anything about it in your condition.”

  “Too bad, that,” Royal said with an exaggerated sigh.

  Ainsley stared at them with patent disbelief.

  Her aunt laughed. “We’re just teasing, child. Now, do you want me to ring for Betty? She can help you to bed.”

  “What’s the point?” Ainsley said in a grumpy tone. “It’s not like I’ll be able to sleep.”

  “I’ll keep her company, my lady,” Royal said. “When she’s ready to go up, I’ll ring for the maid.”

  The old woman looked dubious. “Well, I suppose I can leave the two of you alone. Despite our jesting, you can hardly get up to mischief in her current state.”

  I’d be willing to give it a try, though.

  Royal squashed the unseemly thought. “She’ll be as safe with me as if I were a vestal virgin.”

  “For God’s sake,” Ainsley said. “Do you really suppose . . . oh, never mind. It doesn’t even bear thinking about. Please go to bed, Aunt Margaret. I’ll be up shortly.”

  “See that you are, my dear. You need your rest.”

  After her ladyship thumped out, Royal joined Ainsley on the chaise. She wriggled over to make
more room for him.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to ring for Betty?” he asked. “You’re looking rather worn out.”

  “You try carrying all this extra weight and see how you feel.”

  “Gruesome, I imagine.”

  “Especially when the little blighter makes a habit out of drumming its heels on various parts of my insides.” She grimaced. “Quite vigorously, I might add.”

  “Must be a boy,” Royal said. “No girl would dare to be so ill-tempered.”

  She managed a rueful smile. “I’m sorry to be so ill-tempered, myself. You don’t deserve to catch the brunt of it.”

  “You know I don’t mind. And I mean it when I say I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”

  She regarded him with a slight frown. “Yes, I do know.”

  “I admit to quite enjoying your aunt’s company. She’s almost as entertaining as Angus.”

  “Please, do not remind me of your grandfather. He should count himself lucky that I didn’t murder him during that stupid elopement.”

  Royal grinned. “He feels the same about you—not that you had to spend much time with him that day. You were spared that much at least, unlike the twins and their hapless victims.”

  “That’s because I refused to allow him into our carriage,” Ainsley said. “The Kendrick family should be exceedingly grateful to me, because it’s the only reason your grandfather is still alive.”

  After kidnapping Ainsley from a ball, they’d traveled north in two coaches. The lass had made a point of ripping into Angus, berating him over the stupidity of his plan and then ordering the old fellow into the other carriage. Royal and Ainsley had made the rest of the trip alone. Once she’d unburdened her spleen to him, they’d barely exchanged another word until they arrived at Kinglas.

  He took her hand and held it in his lap. “I’m sorry if I made things worse for you. That certainly wasn’t my intent.”

  She glanced up, her eyes wide. “Why do you think you made things worse?”

  “Because I almost ruined your reputation with our benighted scheme.”

  “Your grandfather’s benighted scheme, you mean. I know you and your brothers were simply witless participants,” she said dryly. “But please remember that I didn’t ask you to return me to Glasgow. I was quite happy to travel north to Kinglas, once I thought about it.”

  “You didn’t seem happy. You were furious with me for days.”

  “Recall that I was several months pregnant at the time and not feeling my best.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that, too. It was unfortunate that I put you in so awkward a position.” If he had known of her predicament, Royal would have done his best to convince her to marry him. It wouldn’t have solved all her problems, but at least he could have protected her.

  “Under the circumstances, I certainly couldn’t marry you,” she said. “That would have been horribly unfair to you.”

  He wanted to disagree, but there was little point.

  She withdrew her hand from his loose grip. “I had no intention of marrying Lord Cringlewood, either. I hoped that participating in such a scandalous affair would ruin my reputation, making me entirely unsuitable for marriage to the marquess or anyone else that mattered.”

  When he flinched, Ainsley sighed. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean you.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  She wrinkled her nose, looking adorably rueful. “I couldn’t marry you, Royal. I couldn’t marry anyone.”

  “It doesn’t matter. As it turns out, your reputation was spared by Nick and Victoria riding to the rescue.”

  His brother and Victoria had followed in hot pursuit, surmounting all the obstacles that Angus had placed in their path—including an avalanche triggered by his blasted bagpipes.

  “Yes, all your hard work was for naught,” she gently mocked.

  “It was a stupid plan, and I’m well aware that I should have discussed it with you first.”

  “Or at least made some attempt at courtship before abducting me,” she joked. “That’s generally how it works.”

  “What did you think I was doing all those weeks in Glasgow, you daft woman?”

  “If reading me lectures is your idea of courtship, no wonder you’re still a bachelor.”

  And would forever remain one, as long as Ainsley Matthews refused to marry him.

  “Whether I’m leg-shackled or not is hardly of relevance,” he said. “What is relevant is finding a solution to your problem, and quickly.”

  She winced and tried to arch her back again. “Thank you for that entirely unnecessary reminder. Believe me, I am acutely aware of the moment of reckoning hurtling my way.”

  “Again, what can I do to help?”

  “Aside from causing Lord Cringlewood to meet with an unfortunate accident?”

  Royal clenched a fist against his thigh. “I wish you would tell me what he did to you.”

  “Why, so you can kill him with a clear conscience?” she asked with more grim humor.

  “Ainsley—”

  She waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “It matters a hell of a lot. The man’s the father of your child, and you’re moving mountains to keep that information away from him. Any sane person would want to know why.”

  She threw him a warning glance. “Any sane person should mind his own business.”

  “Too bad I’m more than a bit demented, then.”

  “No, you’re just incredibly annoying.”

  “I work very hard at it, so I’m glad you noticed.”

  She huffed out a laugh but seemed to be considering how much to tell him. Royal forced himself to be patient, not one of his virtues.

  “The Marquess of Cringlewood is not a good man,” she finally said. “By the time I came to that conclusion, it was too late. But I simply cannot marry him.”

  “Not even to give your child the rightful privileges and protections of a father?” he cautiously probed.

  “Not even then.” She met his gaze, steadfast and determined. “And believe me when I say I have fully considered the consequences of my actions.”

  He did believe her. Though Ainsley was imperious, she was not impetuous. “And you’re obviously convinced your parents would not support you in this decision.”

  Her laugh was bitter. “My father would drag me to the altar and perform the marriage himself, if need be. This is the only way, Royal. I’ve thought it through very carefully.”

  He shoved an exasperated hand back through his hair. “Not carefully enough, if you ask me. What the hell are you going to do once the baby is born?”

  “Again, that is none of your business.”

  It was as he thought. She didn’t have a plan for that part yet.

  Here goes nothing.

  “Then I suppose you’d better marry me, after all,” he said firmly.

  She all but rolled off the chaise.

  After Royal hauled her back into position, she glared at him. “You must stop asking me to marry you.”

  “Why?”

  “You couldn’t possibly wish to marry me under these circumstances, and you know it. You’re just being noble and self-sacrif icing.”

  “It wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice.” He was encouraged that she hadn’t refused him outright.

  “If you’re after my money, you can give it up. My father would disown me if I married you.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your money.” He’d take her wearing only the gown on her back.

  He’d take her out of the gown, too.

  She shook her head. “Royal, you are exceedingly generous, but you know we’d kill each other within a week.”

  “Oh, I can think of worse ways to go.”

  Ainsley gaped at him. “Are you blind? I look like I swallowed a cannonball. Two cannonballs.”

  “True, but your bosom has gone from splendid to spectacular. I’m thinking of building a monument to honor your décolletage.”


  For a few moments, she looked like she didn’t know whether to be amused or appalled.

  She chose to be appalled. “That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard. I refuse to sit here and be insulted.”

  “That was definitely not an insult, Ainsley.”

  She made a show of getting up, flopping about for a bit before subsiding with a ferocious scowl. “A gentleman would have helped me up.”

  “When did you get the idea that I was a gentleman? Certainly not from anything I ever did.”

  She let out a grudging laugh. “True enough.”

  He took her hand again. “Ainsley, I meant it when I said I would do anything to help you, including marriage.”

  She peered at their joined hands, as if they presented her with some sort of problem. “Thank you, Royal. I’m afraid it wouldn’t help, though. For one thing, it would simply generate too much gossip.”

  He ignored the hollow drop of his stomach. He’d known she would refuse him, but he had to try. “Then what can I do to help?”

  “I—” She broke off, and then slid him a sideways look so calculating it raised the hairs on his neck.

  “What?” he warily asked.

  She suddenly sat bolt upright. “Something,” she said in a tight voice.

  “Could you be more specific?”

  She pulled her hand free and clutched her belly. “Something that shouldn’t be happening for another three weeks.”

  Royal stared at her with slowly dawning dismay. “You mean . . .”

  “Yes, you’d better fetch my aunt,” she gasped. “In fact, you’d better fetch everyone.”

  Chapter Four

  Ainsley leaned on Royal’s arm as they inched along the upstairs hall outside her bedroom. Three hours had passed since her water broke and her labor had only slowly advanced. She thought of her bed with longing, but the midwife had suggested she keep moving to speed the baby’s entrance into the world.

  Of course, the redoubtable Mrs. Peters was currently down in the kitchen, having a nice cup of tea with Cook, not stumbling about the halls. So far, midwifing had certainly not taken much work on her part.

  Aunt Margaret had popped out for a bit in a flannel wrapper and an enormous frilly nightcap. After hearing from Mrs. Peters that Ainsley still had hours to go, she had departed for bed, after instructing Royal to keep an eye on things. Amazingly enough, he’d been more than willing to do so, and had even instructed Betty to get some sleep, knowing her assistance would be required later.