The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1)

by Vanessa Kelly

  For a moment, Ainsley could only gape at her mother. She knew that breaking an engagement was a dreadfully serious business that could potentially damage one’s reputation—and financial prospects, if one of the parties was depending on a generous marriage settlement. Since Ainsley’s settlement was more than generous, Cringlewood would feel the sting of losing it. Still, he was a marquess , for God’s sake, and a wealthy one at that.

  She also knew that breach of promise suits were notoriously difficult and expensive to prosecute. It had to be nothing more than a stupid, mean-spirited threat on Cringlewood’s part.

  “The marquess hates scandal as much as you and Papa do,” Ainsley said. “I cannot believe he would court it through legal action.”

  “He hates scandal, but he hates being humiliated and cheated even more. You must return home with me, or else he will proceed.”

  Ainsley shook her head in disbelief. “But why does he care so much?”

  “Some days I do wonder,” her mother said bitterly. “But the fact remains that you committed yourself to Leonard, and he rightly insists you honor that commitment, as do we. I should not have to tell you how damaging the consequences will be for all of us if you do not.”

  At this point, Ainsley didn’t give a damn about herself or her family. But a court case, with all the attendant publicity, would shine a stark light on her actions over this past year and more. That ugliness would eventually find its way to Tira, exposing her to the world.

  In fact, who was to say that her mother wouldn’t try to use the knowledge of Tira’s existence to force her hand? “Mamma, you cannot tell anyone about my child,” Ainsley said, trying to steady her quavering voice.

  “If you return home with me, there will be no need to do so.”

  “I can’t do that.” Ainsley jumped to her feet, battling the urge to race upstairs, snatch her child, and flee with her to safety.

  There’s no place safe.

  Her mother stood. “You leave me no choice but—”

  The door flew open. Royal stalked in, going straight to Ainsley.

  “Is everything all right?” He curled a supportive arm around her shoulders even as he directed a hard gaze at her mother.

  Ainsley’s knees quivered with an unholy combination of relief and panic, forcing her to lock them in place. “Yes, thank you. Mamma was just leaving.”

  “I was doing nothing of the sort. Unless, that is, you are coming with me.”

  “I will come see you later,” Ainsley said. “We can finish our conversation then.”

  “When, exactly?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure. Later.”

  “That is not acceptable. We need to finish this discussion now.” She threw Royal a disdainful glance. “Alone.”

  “Or, you can finish the discussion with me present. Would you prefer that, Ainsley?” Royal asked.

  Ainsley did not prefer. Royal would be furious with her for bringing such a horrific scandal down on their heads, one that could threaten Tira. Under the circumstances, Mamma might even be able to convince him that the best way to protect the child would be for Ainsley to return to London and marry Cringlewood, in exchange for promising to keep Tira’s existence a secret.

  No, Royal would never do that to you.

  Still, she needed a plan to hobble her tormentor before he left the gate. If she could do that, there would be no reason for Royal and the Kendricks to be dragged into embarrassing scandal and expensive legal machinations. Royal had forgiven her so much already, but even he had to have his limits.

  Ainsley was done with testing men’s limits.

  “I have no intention of discussing private family matters with you present, Mr. Kendrick,” Mamma said, glaring at him. “And take your hands off my daughter.”

  Royal left his hands where they were. “Then since we have nothing further to discuss, I suggest you take your leave, my lady.”

  Mortally offended, Mamma snatched up her reticule. “If you were a gentleman, you would encourage my daughter to return home, where she belongs.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a gentleman.”

  “You aren’t fit to marry her.”

  His sudden smile was wry. “I am well aware, madam. Fortunately, Ainsley doesn’t seem to agree.”

  “Mamma, please go,” Ainsley said. “I’ll visit you later today, I promise.”

  For several long seconds, their gazes clashed, her mother clearly reluctant to cede ground.

  “May I escort you to your carriage, Lady Aldridge?” Royal asked, holding out a polite but firm hand.

  Mamma ignored him. “Do not fail me, Ainsley.”

  She turned and stalked to the door, where Victoria now hovered. But Mamma brushed past her without saying a word.

  “Here, love, sit down,” Royal murmured as he guided Ainsley back to the chair. He crouched down in front of her, chafing her hands.

  Victoria hurried over. “Does she know about Tira?”

  Ainsley nodded, her dismay choking her.

  “Do you think she’ll tell anyone?” Royal asked in a calm tone.

  “Probably,” she whispered.

  Victoria grimaced. “What do you think we should do?”

  Suddenly, Ainsley knew exactly what to do. The answer was so simple it was almost laughable.

  She took Royal’s hand and met his concerned gaze. “We should get married, of course. This very day.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Royal glanced at the mantel clock. Most of the servants were already to bed, but Ainsley had yet to reappear. He could only hope she wasn’t still locked in combat with Tira, trying to get the wee lassie to sleep.

  After the bustle of their arrival at Castle Kinglas late this afternoon, peace had once more descended on the stately old pile—except for the nursery, apparently. Normally, Tira would be fast asleep by now, but the frantic rushing about of the last few days had disrupted her schedule. The fact that Ainsley had insisted on putting her daughter to bed was an added complication. Tira was very particular about her nighttime routine, and any deviation resulted in fussing and tears.

  The baby might only be six months old, but she already knew what she wanted. One of those things was Royal or Angus rocking her for a spell whenever she was out of sorts. But Ainsley, now officially Tira’s stepmother, had been so anxious to take up her maternal duties that Royal hadn’t had the heart to gainsay her, even though he’d anticipated another minor disaster.

  Or major, as the case might be, given Ainsley’s luck. He’d never seen his feisty Sassenach as rattled as she’d been yesterday when forced to confront her mother in Glasgow. The state of her nerves had barely improved since then, even though they were now ensconced at Kinglas.

  Even more to the point, Ainsley was now Royal’s wife, and safely under his protection and that of the entire Kendrick family. He would do anything to protect her from those who sought to harm or bully her and finally had the right to do so.

  My wife.

  The truth of it was only just taking hold, and the monumental shift vibrated down to his very bones. That singular moment yesterday in the church, when they’d claimed each other as husband and wife, would be forever engraved on his heart. With Ainsley’s small hand clinging to his, her violet gaze turbulent with emotion, Royal had pledged to worship and protect her. He would fulfill that promise until the day he died.

  Nothing would ever pull them apart again.

  Ainsley was more than a little unnerved by the rapid turn of events, even though their impromptu marriage had been her idea. So unnerved, in fact, that Royal suspected she might be avoiding him tonight—their first night together as husband and wife. After the wedding, Ainsley had returned to Breadie Manor to organize and pack for their trip north. He’d fetched her this morning, and they’d jammed into the Arnprior traveling coach along with Tira, the nursemaid, and an alarming number of bandboxes for a tiring day on the road.

  Given the stresses of the last few weeks, he’d been hoping for a
quiet evening with his bride, but it would seem she preferred spending time with their daughter. While Tira was not all that keen on her mother’s company, Royal was exceedingly keen on spending time with his wife.

  Wincing a bit, he stood. His leg was troubling him, which was not unusual after a day on the road. He could think of a few things that would take his mind off the pain, but the most enticing of those was certainly out of the question for the foreseeable future.

  He glanced up at the elaborately framed portrait of his parents that hung over the fireplace, which was painted shortly after their marriage. Royal’s father was garbed in clan colors, while his mother wore a full-skirted white gown with a Kendrick tartan scarf pinned to her bodice with the family crest. The pose, set against the backdrop of the castle’s old tower house, conveyed the power and wealth of the Earl of Arnprior and the beauty of his young wife.

  But for all that, something shone through the rather stilted pose—his parents’ great love for each other. The artist had captured the pride in the earl’s eyes as he gazed down at his countess, her head tilted into his shoulder, as if she would nestle against him. Royal had studied that painting more times than he could count, but tonight it shimmered with fresh energy.

  For the first time in a long time, he missed his parents with a yearning that felt almost new.

  “It’s my wedding night,” he said to the silent figures above him. “Yet here I am spending it alone. No wife or family to celebrate with.” He thought about that for a second, and couldn’t help laughing. “And I’m talking to my dead parents.”

  It was entirely in keeping with the bizarre state of his life.

  Whisky it is.

  He headed over to the drinks trolley and splashed some of the rich amber brew into a crystal glass. Settling into the leather chair behind his brother’s desk, he cast a negligent glance at the ledgers stacked on the polished wood. Nick had asked him to check a few items having to do with the sale of cattle last month, when he had time. Since Ainsley had either fallen asleep in the nursery or retreated to her bed, Royal definitely had time. Sleep would surely elude him as he imagined his bride slumbering peacefully in the room next to his, clad in nothing but a frivolous nightgown that displayed her ample curves.

  Don’t think about it, you moron.

  As he opened the accounts, he heard a quick footstep on the stone floor in the hall. Royal ignored the leaping of his heart, since it was probably Taffy coming to retrieve the untouched tea tray.

  Ainsley peeked her head around the door. “May I come in?”

  He pushed back and hurried around the desk. “Of course you can. You need never ask.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you were still awake, but it seemed best to check.” She flashed him a wry smile. “After all, tonight is officially our first night together. It would be a poor reflection on my spousal responsibilities if I abandoned the groom without even bidding him good night. You might start looking about for a new wife.”

  “I was beginning to feel quite sorry for myself,” he said, returning her smile. “But instead of drawing up advertisements for a new bride, I’ve been drowning my sorrows in the estate accounts.”

  “How madcap of you.” She glanced at his glass on the desk. “But that’s not the only thing you’ve been drowning your sorrows in, I suspect.”

  “I thought I should celebrate our marriage with a wee dram, even if it was a celebration of one.”

  “Oh, Lord, that is an utterly dreary picture. I am an awful wife, aren’t I? I should probably sit down and help you draw up that advertisement.”

  He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a quick kiss to her soft skin. “Don’t fash yourself, lass. I’m only teasing. I know you want to spend as much time as you can with Tira.”

  “I certainly got to spend some time with her tonight,” she said, stifling a yawn. “She took forever to fall asleep.”

  “I certainly hope she wasn’t crying the entire time.”

  “Only when we put her down in her crib,” she said dryly. “I thought it was me, but she was just as bad with Lucy. So we had to take turns walking with her until she finally dozed off.”

  Royal frowned. Lucy had been one of Tira’s nursemaids from the beginning. “That’s odd. Lucy is almost as good with the baby as Angus. I hope Tira’s not catching a fever.”

  It had been a damp, rainy drive north, so even though Tira had been heavily swaddled to keep out the chill, he still couldn’t help but worry.

  “Lucy suspects she’s breaking another tooth.”

  “But she did let you hold her without crying? That sounds like progress.”

  This time Ainsley’s wide smile was genuine. “She did, although she also got in several good yanks of my hair. I suspect I now have a bald spot.”

  Royal glanced at her perfectly coiffed head. “For a woman who was just mauled by a fractious baby, you are as elegant as always.”

  “You say that now, but I looked alarmingly like Angus after he’s been standing out in a high wind. I had to ask the maid to redo my hair before I dared venture downstairs.”

  “You didn’t need to fuss on my account, sweetheart.” He was eager for the day when he could see Ainsley’s shiny black locks tumbling down around her shoulders. Her naked shoulders, preferably.

  “My lady’s maid was upstairs anyway, since she had to help me change my gown.” When he glanced at her dress, she arched her eyebrows with polite sarcasm. “You didn’t notice, did you?”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. It’s a very nice gown.”

  “You are a sadly typical male, Royal Kendrick. Remind me never to go shopping with you.”

  It was true that he rarely made note of her attire, primarily because he was too entranced by what was inside the gowns to register trivialities like fabric or color. He was always captivated by the swell of her full white breasts over the trim of her bodice, or the lush curve of her delightful backside, showcased by clinging skirts.

  “I promise to be vastly more attentive now that we’re married,” he said. “Every time you change, I will make note of all details, down to the bows on your shoes.”

  “It won’t matter. Here in the hinterlands, I could prance around in a potato sack or a ragged old kilt and no one would take note.”

  “You know us feckless Highlanders. But I promise to don a new shirt at least twice a week, whether I need to or not. Now, tell me why you had to change. Did Tira have another unfortunate incident?”

  Ainsley ruefully nodded. “As usual, her aim is infallible. I wasn’t even holding her, yet she still managed to hit my bodice. Without, I might add, getting anything on Lucy. I swear I’ve become a magnet for baby vomit.”

  “That is an alarming attribute to discover in one’s bride.” Royal steered her over to the chaise in front of the fireplace. “However, you have certainly earned a drink.”

  “Or three,” she said as she collapsed in a graceful heap on the cushions. “Although one will likely put me to sleep in short order.”

  He fetched her a brandy, and joined her on the chaise. “That isn’t much of a wedding night celebration for you, either. I’m sorry about that.”

  After taking a healthy sip, Ainsley let out a satisfied sigh. “Believe me, when I consider what my fate might have been, this seems splendid. I will take a moldy old castle in the Highlands over marriage to Cringlewood any day.”

  “High praise indeed,” Royal said wryly. “But to be serious, I truly regret that we were forced to skulk out of town like a pair of Highland bandits. You deserved better, sweetheart.”

  She grimaced. “No, you’re the one who deserved better. Forcing your hand was most unfair to you and your family. People are bound to talk about how we rushed into this, and that was exactly what you were trying to avoid.”

  “You did not force my hand, and you’re daft if you think I care about any of that for my sake. I have every confidence Nick and Victoria will manage any gossip.”

  “I hope they can also manage my mother. After
reading my letter this morning, I expect she tore over to Kendrick House in a towering fury.”

  “Nick is more than a match for Lady Aldridge.”

  Her gaze slid away, as if she wanted to avoid his eye. “I should have stood my ground and told Mamma myself, but I’m a bit of a coward when it comes to my parents. They can be very determined and more than a little volatile, as you know.”

  After relieving her of the brandy glass, Royal took her hand, weaving their fingers together. “You are anything but a coward, as the last year has shown. And I don’t blame you for not wanting to confront your mother again. The encounter would not have been pleasant, I suspect.”

  “You can be sure of that,” she said quietly.

  He decided to voice the concern that had been nagging at him since Lady Aldridge’s sudden appearance at Kendrick House. “I wish you had let me speak to your mother, love. I would have been happy to explain that I will always provide for your well-being and protection, regardless of your family’s support or lack thereof.”

  When she started to protest, he gently squeezed her hand. “I would have also made it clear that we expect her silence regarding Tira’s parentage. Your mother needs to know that there is nothing to be gained from telling Cringlewood or anyone else the truth about the child.”

  “I know you only want to help,” she said. “But my mother would have seen you as impertinent and interfering, and picked a fight with you.”

  “That was why I suggested I meet with her alone,” he said patiently. “She cannot upset me as she does you, Ainsley.”

  She withdrew her hand, looking tense and unhappy. “Mamma can be rather awful when she puts her mind to it. I . . . well, such a meeting wouldn’t have been good for either of you, Royal.”

  She surely knew he would never hurt or demean her mother. Was she worried about what her mother would say to him? What could Lady Aldridge possibly reveal about Ainsley that he didn’t already know?