The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1)

by Vanessa Kelly

  Sighing dramatically, Hector lugged over one of the ladder-back chairs that flanked the front door. Ainsley thanked him and sank down, grateful to be off her feet. She might be sick of lying abed, but her back ached and her legs still felt a bit wobbly. Royal would notice that, of course, and worry even more that she was overexerting herself.

  Soon she wouldn’t have him to worry about her, ever again.

  She sat quietly, watching as he conferred with his coachman and supervised the grooms who were loading the last bit of luggage. As usual, he managed everything with a natural sense of command.

  “That young man is certainly impressive,” Aunt Margaret said as she joined Ainsley. “I confess I will miss him.”

  “You’ll miss the fact that he’s so handsome.”

  Her aunt gave her a sharp look. “You finally realized that, did you?”

  “Aunt Margaret, I always realized it.”

  “Then more fool you for not acting on it. Kendrick would have made a better husband than all those frippery Londoners who hang about your skirts.”

  Ainsley was well aware of that, which was rather adding insult to injury at this point. “It’s water under the bridge now.”

  Her aunt glanced at the baby. “Did you name her yet?”

  “Yes, Tira, after Royal’s mother.” She leaned down and kissed her baby’s forehead. “Do you hear that, darling? You have the most splendid name.”

  Aunt Margaret sighed. “You’ve spent too much time with her, Ainsley. It’s not good for you.”

  She had to swallow before answering. “I know it was stupid. I don’t know how I’m going to say good-bye. It feels impossible.”

  To lose either Tira or Royal. Ainsley had thought that grief for her daughter would push everything else to the side, so it shocked her how much she was going to miss him. She’d come to realize that her heart was much bigger than she’d ever thought, which meant there was that much more to break.

  Her aunt rested a gentle hand on Ainsley’s shoulder. “You will say good-bye because you know it is the right thing to do. You and this child both deserve a good life, a happy life. Thanks to Royal Kendrick, your baby will have one. As for yourself . . . that is up to you, my dear.”

  “As long as Tira is safe, that’s enough for me.” It would have to be enough, because Ainsley knew she would never be truly happy. How could she be, with most of her heart forever left behind at Castle Kinglas?

  “Things will get better, I promise,” her aunt said. “Someday you will find a good man to marry, and you will bear more children.”

  Ainsley looked into her baby’s face, trying to memorize every sweet curve and line. “I don’t want to get married. I only want to be with her.”

  “Fah, now you’re talking nonsense. You were born to marry a great man, my dear, and to take your rightful place in society.”

  She cast her aunt an exasperated glance. “Like you did?”

  Aunt Margaret waved a hand. “That’s entirely different. I was too independent to be married. Besides, I never found anyone who inspired me to even consider fidelity to one man, much less the wedded state.”

  Ainsley shifted, wincing slightly with pain. “Considering what I just went through a few days ago, a life of celibacy sounds fairly appealing at the moment.”

  “Now, what would be the fun in that?” her aunt said.

  Ainsley shook her head in disbelief. If she never had sex again, she would count herself lucky. In her case, the act of creating a baby had been a great deal more distressing than actually having the baby.

  Stays creaking, her aunt bent down to look her in the eye. “Ainsley, you had a terrible experience with a villain, and I’m more sorry for that than I can say. But it needn’t be that way with a man, I assure you. In fact, it shouldn’t be that way.”

  “It’s not something I can think about right now,” Ainsley said, sighing.

  Her aunt straightened up. “I would like to murder Cringlewood with my bare hands. Slowly and very, very painfully.”

  “Get in line behind me,” Ainsley said.

  Royal came back inside, his open greatcoat swinging around the top of his tall, polished boots.

  “The carriage is loaded,” he said. “I’m very sorry, but we must be underway.”

  “Where is the wet nurse?” asked Lady Margaret.

  “Already in the carriage,” Royal said. “I’ll bring Tira out to her as soon as Ainsley says good-bye.”

  Ainsley’s arms tightened around her daughter. Mrs. Monroe was a kind and experienced woman who’d already had three children and had been highly recommended by Dr. MacTavish. While Ainsley knew she should be grateful they’d be able to secure her services, she’d barely been able to bring herself to look at the woman. Knowing that a stranger would be nursing her child made her feel as hollow and as a dried-up, weed-covered well.

  “Then I will make my farewell, Mr. Kendrick,” Aunt Margaret said, extending a hand. “My niece and I can never properly express our gratitude to you or to your family.”

  Royal bowed over her hand. “I’m honored that I was able to be of service, ma’am. Please know that I will always do whatever I can to help you and your niece.”

  “My regards to your brother and his countess,” Aunt Margaret said with a nod, before moving away.

  Royal looked down at Ainsley, somber ghosts lurking in the back of his gaze. “I’m sorry, lass. I’d give anything not to have to do this to you.”

  Ainsley braced herself to carry it through. “No, you’re rescuing us. My aunt is right. I can never possibly repay you.”

  “There is no need,” he said. “Just know that I will always be at your service. Always.”

  His quiet words were a solemn vow, one she knew he would never break. He was a good man and he loved her. And stupid, stupid woman that she was, she’d lost her only chance to love him back.

  “You’re doing the best possible thing for me you could ever do,” she said. “Here, take Tira now.”

  He reached down and carefully gathered the baby up. Cradling Tira securely in one arm, he then helped Ainsley stand.

  She gazed at her daughter, so secure in his strong embrace, and felt tears begin to spill.

  “Och, don’t cry, love,” he murmured, resting his gloved hand against her cheek. “You’ll kill me if you do.”

  Ainsley had to resist the impulse to wrap her arms around them and keep them with her forever—her baby and the man who would rightly be her father.

  Instead, she blinked several times and mustered a smile. “No, I won’t cry anymore, I promise.”

  “Tira will be fine, you may be sure of it. And I’ll send a message as soon as we reach home.”

  She let out a shaky sigh. Since it was less than a day’s travel to Castle Kinglas, she would receive word from him by sometime tomorrow. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  He nodded. “I’ll write every few days to let you know how she does.”

  “That would be wonderful. I’ll be staying with Aunt Margaret for another month. After that I’ll be returning to London.” She rested a hand on her baby’s chest and made herself say the words. “Once I return home, though, you can’t write to me anymore. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  Ainsley no longer trusted her father. He was on Cringlewood’s side and would take any advantage in pressuring her into marrying him. She wouldn’t put it past him to go through her letters or even intercept them.

  Royal’s expression turned hard. “Are you in danger? Because if you are, I’m not letting you return to London. And I don’t give a damn about the bloody scandal.”

  “No, I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I meant that it’s not safe for the baby’s sake. If anyone were to find out . . .”

  He still didn’t look happy but gave a reluctant nod. “Then you and Victoria can write to each other. You’re friends, so no one would think twice about that.”

  That made sense. They’d already agreed that Royal would tell Victoria and Lord Arnprior the tru
th. To be able to hear regularly that Tira was safe and well felt like an enormous and undeserved gift.

  “Yes, that would work,” she said with a grateful smile. “Please tell her to be careful what she says, though.”

  “I will.”

  She kept her hand on Tira’s chest as she stared up into Royal’s starkly handsome face. Though she should say her good-byes and step away, she felt inextricably bound to him, intimately connected by the child he held in his arm. In a very real way, they were now family.

  “I wish we could have spent more time together,” she whispered. “I’ve barely seen you these last few days.”

  He closed his eyes and let out a weary sigh. When he opened them again, her heart throbbed at the pain in them.

  “I’m sorry, lass, but I couldn’t. It hurt too much.”

  “You were angry with me. I understand.”

  His shook his head. “Never at you. At circumstances. At life.”

  “I know exactly how you feel.” The words shredded her throat.

  “I wish I could make it better for you,” he said, his brogue low and rough.

  “You already did.”

  Suddenly, she was flooded with a fierce, overwhelming gratitude for him, one that burned clear into her soul. She knew in that moment that she would kill for Royal Kendrick. She would give up her own life for him, just as she would for Tira. After her daughter, no one would ever mean as much as Royal did.

  One hand still resting on her daughter’s little body, Ainsley curled the other around his neck and tugged him down to meet her lips.

  Their mouths met in a soft fusion of sorrow and love. It was as sweet and tender as the kiss they’d shared all those months ago in London. This one spoke of a thousand broken promises, but also an invisible bond that would hold them for a lifetime, even if they never saw each other again.

  He retreated first, reluctant but clearly determined. “It’s time, love.”

  She blinked the tears from her eyes, gathering herself for the final good-bye.

  “Good-bye, my darling,” she whispered, stroking her daughter’s kitten-soft cheek. Tira snuffled in her sleep, turning her face with instinctive trust into Ainsley’s palm. The sweet pain of it ripped her soul to pieces.

  “Be a good girl for your papa,” she choked out.

  “I will always love her, Ainsley,” Royal said. “All the Kendricks will love and protect her.”

  She bent and pressed a last kiss to Tira’s forehead, breathing in her daughter’s soft, milky scent, one she would never forget. Then she somehow forced herself to step back, even though every muscle in her body shrieked in rebellion. The hole in her heart became a chasm.

  Be strong, for Tira.

  She drew herself up and met his gaze. “Be happy, Royal Kendrick. For my baby’s sake and for yours.”

  “Is that an order, my lady?”

  “It is.”

  He forced a smile that fractured at the edges. “And the same to you, lass. Be happy, for all our sakes.”

  Thankfully, she was spared the need to reply when he turned and strode across the hall, his tall figure quickly disappearing in a dazzle of sunlight through the open doors. The sun hadn’t shone for days, and now it streamed into the hall like a benediction.

  Her aunt moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “The child will have a good life with the Kendricks, my brave girl. And now you can have a real chance at happiness, too. You’ll see. It’ll get better, I promise.”

  Ainsley nodded, even though she knew she would never be truly happy again.

  * * *

  As the carriage pulled into the courtyard of Castle Kinglas, Royal took off his hat and rubbed his throbbing head. Never had he been happier to arrive home and more terrified at the same time. He couldn’t begin to imagine how he could pull this demented plan off.

  He leaned across and touched the arm of the wet nurse, dozing on the opposite bench. “We’ve arrived, Mrs. Monroe.”

  She came instantly awake, peering into the basket on the seat next to her.

  “Tira is still asleep,” Royal said.

  “Thank the Lord. I thought the poor bairn would never go down.”

  Ten minutes after they departed from Underhill Manor, Tira had startled from her slumber. She’d taken one look at her surroundings and started wailing. She’d more or less kept it up for the entire journey, despite their best efforts to soothe her. Mrs. Monroe, who was obviously a competent and experienced nurse, had done her best, rocking her and quietly singing old lullabies for hours on end.

  Only when Tira was feeding did she stop crying, and even then not for long. It felt like she was protesting the absence of her mother, her distress growing stronger with each mile that separated them.

  Royal had never felt more helpless in his life, and he hated himself for what he’d done.

  He’d torn a family asunder and ripped out his own heart at the same time. Like Ainsley, he’d racked his brain for a better solution and, like her, had come back to this one every time. For both mother and daughter, this was the best way to keep them safe. That’s what his head told him, although his heart disagreed.

  Tira had finally fallen into a deep slumber a half hour ago. Royal prayed it would hold until they got her inside and settled under their housekeeper’s competent care. Taffy had helped to raise all the Kendrick brothers and had soothed many a fractious baby over the years. Thank God because the responsibility was monumental, and would require the cooperation of his entire family.

  When the door to the carriage opened, Royal held up a warning hand. The groom nodded and let down the steps as quietly as he could. Royal got out and then turned to take the baby from Mrs. Monroe.

  She lifted Tira from the basket and carefully handed her over. The baby’s cheeks were flushed and her eyelashes still damp from the last bout of tears, but she appeared deeply asleep—probably from exhaustion, poor mite. Royal felt like he’d walked from Cairndow, and no doubt Mrs. Monroe was even more pulled about.

  “I’ll take her if you wish, sir,” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m going to send you off with our housekeeper to have some dinner and get settled. You must be tired.”

  A sturdy, comfortable sort of woman in her late thirties, Mrs. Monroe gave him a cheerful smile. “Och, no. I’ve raised three bairns of my own, so I’m well used to fussy babies.”

  That was obviously true, since she’d handled Tira in a gentle, competent manner. Mrs. Monroe was the wife of a tenant farmer and had served as wet nurse to other aristocratic ladies. Lady Margaret was no doubt paying her a generous fee, but it was well worth it to secure the services of a good woman willing to be away from her own family for at least three months.

  Just as important, Mrs. Monroe could be trusted to keep Ainsley’s secret.

  He led her toward the door of the main tower house. “Well, I’ve got her now, and she seems inclined to sleep. So I suggest you take the chance to have some dinner. I’ll bring her up after you’re settled in the nursery.”

  “Aye, Mr. Kendrick.”

  The door opened before they reached it and Andrew, the youngest footman, hurried out. He took one look at the bundle in Royal’s arms and all but tripped over his feet.

  “Um, is that a baby, Mr. Royal?” His gaze darted back and forth between Tira and Mrs. Monroe.

  “Obviously, Andrew. Now, see to the bags,” Royal said. “Taffy will explain the new arrangements to the staff in a bit.”

  “Aye, sir,” Andrew said, clearly expiring with curiosity.

  Royal mentally sighed, bracing himself for the scene he must now enact for the sake of the servants.

  “You’ve got the story straight, Mrs. Monroe?” he murmured, pausing at the stone porch that sheltered the front door.

  She nodded. “Never fear, sir. I’ll be protectin’ the babe’s secret, ye can be sure.”

  “You have my thanks.”

  Taffy appeared in the doorway, her wrinkled
features softening in a kind smile. She was approaching seventy, but her gaunt, neatly garbed figure was as upright and strong as ever.

  “Mr. Royal, it’s good to see ye,” she said. “All the arrangements have been made. At least as well as I was able to with so little detail,” she pointedly added.

  His letter to Victoria had of necessity been sparse on information. He’d simply asked for the carriage to be sent to Cairndow and instructed the Kinglas nursery to be prepared to receive a newborn baby.

  “Thank you. Is Lady Arnprior about?”

  “I’ve sent a footman to fetch the laird and my lady.” She peered at the bundle in Royal’s arms. “Aye, that’s a wee bairn. I was a mite doubtful of her ladyship’s instructions, but I see she had the right of it.”

  Might as well get on with it. “This is my daughter. Her mother is not a reliable person, so the bairn will stay with us at Kinglas.”

  He winced at the crash behind him. Andrew had dropped Mrs. Monroe’s trunk.

  The housekeeper raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Is that so? Now, that’s a sad situation, if I ever heard one.”

  Royal gave her an apologetic smile. Taffy had always been able to tell when he was lying. But she was loyal to the family and the clan, and would stick to whatever tale he chose to tell.

  Her glance flicked to Mrs. Monroe, who was quietly waiting.

  “And this is Mrs. Monroe,” he said. “My daughter’s wet nurse. If you could get her settled, I would be—”

  “Royal, what the hell is going on here?” his oldest brother barked from the back of the hall.

  Nick strode toward him, looking thunderous. Victoria scurried along in his wake, trying to catch up with him.

  “You really brought a baby here,” Nick said when he reached them. “I could hardly believe my eyes when I read that nonsensical message you sent.”

  “Yes, and if you wake her, I’ll have to murder you,” Royal said in a low voice. The baby had stirred at the commotion but thankfully, still slumbered.

  “I’ll take Mrs. Monroe to the kitchen,” Taffy said. “And then send tea up to the drawing room.”