The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1)

by Vanessa Kelly

  “What good did that pampered life do for me?” she challenged. “It couldn’t keep me safe, or even give me the freedom to make my own choices. If anything, the fact that I’m an heiress has made my life more complicated.”

  He pondered that for a few moments. “I don’t wish to pry, but I’m not sure what the arrangements are regarding your fortune.” He held up a hand before she could reply. “And I don’t give a confounded hang about your money. It won’t affect my decision.”

  She smiled at him. “I know, and I don’t mind telling you. I’ll be worth fifteen thousand pounds a year if I marry an acceptable suitor. Papa will also gift me with a prime hunting box from his grandmother, along with a portion of my maternal grandmother’s jewels.”

  “What if you marry someone not acceptable?”

  “Then my father will ensure that I receive not a shilling.”

  She was rather proud of how unconcerned she sounded, even though she felt sick even saying the horrifying words. But she’d been repeating them in her head for weeks now, so she would get used to it. The idea of being poor and dependent was daunting. But if she had to be dependent on anyone, she would choose Royal in a heartbeat.

  He shook his head. “I always thought your father doted on you.”

  “So did I,” she said dryly.

  “That’s bloody awful.” He hesitated. “You’re truly sure about this? Because you must know it won’t be easy to give up everything you’re used to, including your family.”

  Ainsley stood and joined him by the fireplace. She placed a hand flat on his chest and met his cautious gaze.

  “Royal, I only desire two things. First, I want to be safe from Cringlewood. Even more importantly, I want to be with my daughter. These five months away from her . . .” Her throat went tight, forcing her to pause for a moment. “It’s just about killed me.”

  He covered her hand. “I knew you would miss her, of course, but I thought you’d be able to move on with your life, knowing she was safe with us.”

  “I tried, I truly did.” Her voice cracked. “But I simply cannot go on without—”

  He pressed a kiss to her brow. “You don’t have to say more. I understand completely.”

  “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “It’s shameless the way I’m using you—asking you to agree to a sham marriage just so I can be with my daughter. I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”

  She was so wrapped up in her bout of self-pity that it took several moments to realize he’d turned into a block of stone. “What’s wrong?”

  “You said ‘sham marriage’?”

  Ainsley grimaced. “Oh, blast. I didn’t mean . . . Royal, you must know how fond I am of you.”

  “Thank you. I think.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I suppose that rather sounded like I was talking about my pet pug, didn’t it?”

  He frowned. “Do you have a pet pug?”

  “Heavens, no.”

  “Good, because the terriers would tear it apart.”

  “Oh, I forgot about them,” she said.

  “In any case, this isn’t about the dogs. It’s about how you feel about me . If we have any chance of making a marriage work—”

  “Does that mean you’ll do it?” She clutched his hand with both of hers.

  When he flushed under his tan, she realized she’d placed his hand firmly against her breast. With a weak smile, she let go and began awkwardly fussing with the collar of her gown.

  Royal looked regretful. Then he cleared his throat and got rather brisk. “I will never abandon you, Ainsley, but I would be grateful to know how you actually feel about me, as a husband, that is.”

  She struggled to find the words to explain, desperate not to hurt him. “You must understand that most days I don’t even know how I feel about myself . I’m a mess, if you want to know the truth.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself, sweetheart,” he said softly.

  “Perhaps. But there are some things I do know. I know that I love my daughter and I want to be with her. And I know that I trust you and feel safe with you. You’re the only person in my life who makes me feel that way. When I’m with you, it’s like I’m myself again. Although perhaps not quite as selfish and pigheaded,” she finished ruefully.

  “You were never really selfish, love. Just a little spoiled.”

  “But certainly pigheaded.”

  “That’s why we’re so well matched,” he said in a light tone. Even though they were over the heavy bit, he was still trying to clear the way for her. And that was so like him too.

  She pressed her fingers into the fine wool of his coat. “Royal, I know I’m a bad bargain, but please believe me when I say there’s no one else I would rather be with than you. You are the best man I’ve ever met. After all, I gave you the most precious thing in my life. Would I have done so if I didn’t believe in you?”

  “I suppose not,” he said gruffly.

  “I didn’t ask you to love and protect Tira because it was convenient for me. I did it because it was the only thing in my life that made sense.”

  “You honored me in doing so. But you must be sure about marriage, Ainsley. Once you make this decision, there is no going back.”

  “I’ve done little else these last five months but think about you and Tira, and how much I want to be with you. Both of you,” she emphasized. “Truly, I’d swear an oath to that effect, if it would help. Surely there must be some demented Highland ceremony where we would cut our wrists, mingle our blood, and then twirl around half-naked in the moonlight.”

  His lips twitched. “Well, I’d very much like to see you dancing half-naked in the moonlight.”

  “It would only work if we both did it.”

  “As intriguing as it sounds, I’m no dancer, so we’ll have to be satisfied with a simple church wedding.”

  Her insides jumped. “So, you’ll do it?”

  “Aye.”

  While her legs went shaky with relief, she somehow managed to muster a scowl. “Royal Kendrick, I just poured my heart out, and all you can do is say aye?”

  “Ainsley, I’ve been nursing a hopeless passion for you—with the emphasis on hopeless—for well on two years, and now we’re finally to be wed. If I get any more emotional, I’ll have to ring for smelling salts.”

  She choked out a laugh. “As your grandfather would say, you are a complete jinglebrains.”

  As usual, when feeling emotional they both took refuge in silly jests and mild—or not so mild—insults. It was easier that way, and sometimes safer.

  “You’re stuck with me now.” He steered her back to her chair, plucking up her brandy glass. “Here, you look like you could use this.”

  She took a sip, relishing the reviving jolt. Royal settled into his chair, watching her with quiet intensity.

  “Now that we’ve got everything sorted out, may I see Tira?” she asked.

  “Of course, although I do think we have a few more things to sort out.”

  She cocked an eyebrow.

  “For one, when do we get married?” he asked.

  “Well, it’s Scotland, so we can just pop off and find the nearest blacksmith, can’t we?”

  “As charmingly quaint as that would be, I would advise waiting a few weeks. That will give my family a chance to gather and will allow us time to plan a proper church wedding and celebration.”

  “I don’t need any of that. I want to get married immediately.” She leaned forward, her anxiety sparking again. “We can’t afford to wait, Royal.”

  He took her hand. “I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you or Tira.”

  “But—”

  “No, lass. Running off will only look suspicious and raise more questions. I’ve only just got past the scandal of bringing my by-blow into the house. Marrying you in such a slipshod fashion will only generate more gossip.”

  Ainsley chewed on her lower lip, feeing mulish and afraid.

  “You’re not alone in this anymore,” he said. “You�
�ve got me and the rest of my family. We’ll protect you.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve been dealing with this on my own for so long. It’s hard to give up control.”

  “You’re not giving up control. You’re just letting me help you.”

  Help. She’d wanted that for so long, and now she finally had it. It felt both odd and miraculous. “All right, I’ll defer to you on that. Is there anything else to discuss?”

  He considered for a moment. “I think that’s enough for now.”

  Ainsley breathed a sigh of relief. She felt exhausted and battered by her emotions.

  “I know you’re rather impatient to see your daughter,” he said with a smile.

  “Rather would be putting it mildly.”

  He rose and headed for the door. “I’ll have Angus fetch her right away.”

  “Oh dear, must he?” Angus was the last person she wanted to deal with, especially while finally meeting her daughter again.

  “He’ll insist, I’m afraid.”

  “Then can we delay telling him that we’re to be married, at least for today?”

  He threw her a surprised glance over his shoulder.

  “You know he’ll be furious about it,” she said, “and I’d like to focus on Tira, if I may.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  She flashed him a grateful smile.

  When he opened the door, Angus all but fell into the room.

  “Hear anything interesting, Grandda?” Royal asked sardonically.

  “Not a bloody word,” the old man groused. “Ye both mumble too much.”

  “We’ll talk later,” Royal said. “For now, I’d like you to bring Tira down.”

  Angus gaped at him, thunderstruck. “Doon here? To see her ?”

  “Yes.”

  “But the wee lass is nappin’,” he protested. “And, besides, I dinna ken—”

  “Now, Grandda,” Royal ordered, gently shoving him out of the room.

  Ainsley stood up. “This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?” She couldn’t help wringing her hands. “Angus is going to try to ruin everything.”

  “No need to worry, love. He’s devoted to Tira. He’ll only want the best for her, and that means her mamma.”

  Ainsley was quite sure Angus would not consider that the best thing for Tira.

  She began pacing the room. Thankfully, Royal didn’t urge her to sit or attempt to calm her with silly platitudes. He simply watched her, radiating waves of quiet reassurance.

  The biggest miracle of all was about to happen. She’d finally have everything she’d fought so diligently to achieve—her daughter, and a husband strong enough and devoted enough to protect them both.

  And yet she’d never been more terrified in her life.

  A few minutes later, Angus walked in, cradling the baby wrapped in a plaid blanket. Royal took Tira and came over to Ainsley, who stood frozen like a lump in front of the fireplace.

  “Here’s your daughter,” he murmured. “And she’s a bonny lass, just like her mother.”

  She had to blink furiously as she gazed at the sleeping baby in his arms. Tira had the sweetest, chubbiest cheeks, a wealth of glossy black hair, and the most adorable nose Ainsley had ever seen. In short, she was the most beautiful baby who’d ever lived.

  “Would you like to hold her?”

  Ainsley hardly dared breathe. “May I?”

  Angus popped up behind Royal’s shoulder. “Best not. The lassie’s always a wee bit cranky if ye startle her out of a nap.”

  “It’ll be fine, Angus,” Royal said.

  Ainsley couldn’t help flashing the old man a smug grin. He scowled and uttered a few choice words under his breath.

  “I certainly hope you never talk like that around Tira,” she said.

  “She’s used to it,” Royal dryly said. “Here, take her.”

  Carefully, he eased the babe into her embrace. Ainsley held the soft weight in her arms, amazed at how big her daughter had grown.

  Angus sidled around to stand close to her. “Make sure ye support her neck, or she’ll be floppin’ about like a fish.”

  Ainsley huffed but followed his instructions. While Angus might be a horrible old man, he clearly knew his way around babies.

  “That’s it,” Royal said. “You’re a natural.”

  Ainsley flashed him a grin. “I was very good with her when she was a newborn, if you recall.”

  Although Tira was still asleep, her face was now screwed up in a frown, as if something troubled her. Perhaps it was the blanket, which had twisted a bit under her chin. Ainsley jiggled her more securely in her arm and tried to rearrange the soft wool wrap.

  Tira’s eyes suddenly flew open, and Ainsley found herself staring into a deep violet gaze that matched her own. It was a sleepy gaze, certainly, but a mirror image of hers nonetheless.

  It was astounding and utterly wonderful.

  The baby contemplated her with an indecisive air, as if waiting for something to happen.

  “Hello, darling,” Ainsley whispered. “Remember me? Remember your mamma?”

  Tira’s eyes popped even wider for a moment. Then she screwed up her face, opened her little mouth, and began to screech. Out in the hall, the dogs began to yowl in mournful solidarity, creating an unholy din.

  Ainsley winced. “I suppose she doesn’t remember me, after all.”

  “Welcome to motherhood, lass,” Angus said with a snort. “I hope ye’re ready for it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ainsley eyed the wicker contraption she and Victoria were pulling along the smooth path. “Are you sure this is safe?”

  “Oh, yes. Angus spent a great deal of time working on it. He saw an illustration of a children’s cart in a gazette and worked very hard to improve on the design.”

  “But those carts are generally for older children. And they are usually pulled by dogs, not people, are they not?”

  “Angus originally thought the dogs could pull this,” Victoria said wryly, “but Royal put his foot down. Could you imagine the terriers careening around the park with poor Tira in tow?”

  “The mind reels.”

  Still, the little carriage seemed quite sturdy. Angus had mounted a wicker bassinet on a base that resembled a small pushcart. Lined with blankets, the bassinet served as a comfortable cocoon for Tira to venture out into the world—or at least as far as around the garden square in front of Kendrick House.

  “The pull handles were a good addition,” Ainsley admitted. “But we must look rather ridiculous.”

  They’d received more than a few startled glances from the nannies and nursemaids who were quite sensibly carrying their charges or helping the toddlers walk. Or perhaps they were simply agog at the sight of aristocratic ladies trundling a cart around the square, especially when one of those ladies happened to be the Countess of Arnprior.

  “It’s splendid exercise,” Victoria said. “I hate being cooped up in the house all day.”

  “Yes, splendid.” Ainsley tried to ignore the perspiration trickling down her spine. “Let’s muck out the stables next.”

  Victoria laughed. “Poor Ainsley. But you must agree this outing worked on Tira.”

  “Thank God.” Ainsley twisted a bit to peer into the carriage. “She’s finally asleep.”

  After a week of rainy weather, today’s sunshine had prompted this much-needed stroll. Nicholas and Victoria had arrived in Glasgow a few days ago, and the commotion of their arrival—and the surprise over Ainsley and Royal’s engagement—was only now settling down. Victoria was clearly eager for a private chat, and Ainsley was just as eager to escape from a household full of loud and opinionated Kendrick males.

  Spending quiet time with Tira was a bonus. As grateful as Ainsley was to Royal, she couldn’t get past the notion that he and the other Kendrick men were constantly judging her fitness as a mother and finding her lacking. Naturally, Angus was the worst, offering a stream of comments that detailed the failings of English women in ge
neral and Ainsley in particular. Unfortunately, the old man’s assessment tended to be more accurate than not, and today was another case in point.

  Tira had started fussing as soon as they left the house. By the time they reached the park she’d worked up a full head of steam. Ainsley had done her best to soothe her until finally admitting defeat and handing her over to Victoria. After the countess had rocked Tira through the worst of the storm, they’d wheeled her around the small park and the motion of the cart finally lulled her to sleep.

  It had been another monumentally discouraging episode. At least only Victoria had been witness to Ainsley’s inability to comfort her own child.

  “I don’t suppose we dare sit on that bench,” she said. “If we stop moving, she might wake up.”

  Victoria peeked under the light throw draped over the top of the bassinet. “I think she’ll sleep for a while. She’s exhausted from all that crying.”

  Ainsley sighed. “Whenever I get close it’s like a bell goes off in her head. Even the dogs have taken to hiding when I come to visit, and you know how they usually stick to Tira’s side.”

  “She’s teething, dearest,” Victoria said. “That’s why she’s so fussy. It’s not you, I promise.”

  When Ainsley gave her a look, her friend wrinkled her nose. “Well, maybe it’s you just a wee bit, but only because Tira doesn’t know you yet. And it doesn’t help that there’s been a great deal of commotion at the house.”

  “But it’s been over a week since I arrived. And she positively hated the doll I bought for her,” she added rather inanely, referring to the very pretty and very expensive doll she now held in her free hand. “It’s like I’m cursed, or the blasted doll is.”

  Ainsley had put it in the carriage, hoping to divert her daughter from her tears. Tira had wailed like a banshee until the doll was hastily removed.

  “I’m her mother. She should know me.” When she waved the doll in frustration, the wretched thing’s starched cambric bonnet fell off and landed in a mud puddle.

  “Hell and damnation,” she muttered as she bent to retrieve it. She jammed it back onto the doll’s head, even though it was now a sodden mess.

  “Babies don’t think rationally,” Victoria said. “They’re much like men in that respect.”