The Highlander Who Protected Me (Clan Kendrick #1)

by Vanessa Kelly

  Unbelievably, Cringlewood began to look amused. “Ainsley, who is this pattern-card of gentility, might I ask?”

  Ainsley glared at him. “This is my grandfather-in-law, Mr. MacDonald.”

  “Oh, my poor dear. How far you have fallen. I have obviously arrived in the nick of time to save you from complete degradation.”

  Angus smiled and extended his arm as if preparing to fire. For a stunned moment, Ainsley thought he was actually going to do it.

  Royal suddenly appeared, shoving his way between Henderson and William. “Grandda, put down the pistol.”

  “The bloody bastard threatened the lassie,” Angus protested as his grandson stalked over to him.

  Royal flicked a killing glance in Cringlewood’s direction, but then looked back at Angus and held out his hand. “I’ll deal with him.”

  With an aggrieved sigh, Angus handed over the pistol. Royal uncocked it and placed it on the table before hunkering down in front of Ainsley. He took her hands and began chafing them.

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

  He was hatless, his hair whipped into a tangle and his color high, as if he’d run all the way from his offices. Even though his gaze shimmered with concern for her, there was a lethal calm about him that boded ill for Cringlewood, who, of course, would be too arrogant to realize it.

  The marquess might be a powerful aristocrat, but Royal was a Highland warrior. He would do anything and everything to protect his family and his wife.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  Her shoulder ached a bit, but she shook her head.

  “Only because I stopped him,” Angus said. “Bastard had his hand on her neck when I came in.”

  Royal slowly rose to his feet. “Did he now?” he said, his brogue growing thick. “Then I suppose that pistol will be of use, after all.”

  Cringlewood extracted his snuffbox and helped himself to a pinch. “Best not to do anything until you’ve heard what I have to say about your wife.”

  “I’m not interested in a damn thing you have to say.”

  “Oh, I think you will be. What I’m about to tell you could have a marked effect on the entire Kendrick family.”

  Ainsley touched her husband’s arm. “Perhaps we’d best hear him out.”

  Royal glanced down at her, his gaze troubled. “You don’t have to do this, love.”

  “We need to know everything, Royal.”

  Now that her fate was upon her, calm had once more descended. No matter how bad it was, there would be no more questions or secrets. There was relief in that, at least for now.

  Reluctantly, her husband nodded. “Agreed, but there’s no need for you to stay. I have a few things to discuss with his lordship that I’d rather do in private.”

  Ainsley practically shot up from the chaise. “No!”

  Royal blinked.

  “I appreciate that you want to protect me,” she said. “But I’m not afraid of him.”

  “She’s afraid for you to hear the truth, though,” the marquess said as he snapped shut his snuffbox and stowed it away.

  Ainsley tried to ignore him, focusing on her husband. “Could we please do this without an audience?”

  The marquess let out a soft laugh that made her want to shove him off a very high cliff.

  Royal drew Angus aside and quietly issued some terse orders. Although his grandfather objected, Royal steered him from the room and firmly closed the door. Then he urged Ainsley to return to the chaise, standing behind her and resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “All right,” he said to Cringlewood. “Say your piece quickly and then get the hell out of my house before I throttle you.”

  The marquess sized Royal up with a faint smile. Ainsley recognized that canny expression—he was looking for a chink in her husband’s armor.

  “I take it that Ainsley failed to admit how she was more than willing to have relations with me,” the marquess finally said.

  She again shot to her feet. “That’s a lie.”

  Royal gently pressed her back down. “Cringlewood, I’m on a very short leash. If you value your life, never again refer to the outrage you perpetrated on my wife.”

  The marquess looked briefly disconcerted, but then shrugged. “Fine. I have advised Ainsley that she must end this ridiculous marriage and return to London. It is in everyone’s best interest that she do so.”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Royal snapped. “That’s in no one’s interest but yours.”

  “You’re wrong, Kendrick, because I will sue her family and your family for breach of contract. My lawyers tell me I have an excellent case. And given the size of the marriage settlements previously agreed upon, I assure you I intend to pursue very large judgments. Then there’s the scandal, of course. Extremely embarrassing for everyone.”

  Royal’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “Marriage settlements?”

  “Oh, didn’t she tell you? The contracts for our marriage were negotiated, witnessed by lawyers, and signed before Ainsley foolishly broke our engagement.”

  Ainsley had to struggle to hold back the rising tide of panic. She twisted in her seat to look at her husband, who was clearly taken about by Cringlewood’s declaration.

  “It . . . things might be a bit more complicated than I originally suggested,” she stammered.

  He stared down at her. “The contracts were actually signed?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she weakly replied.

  His reaction was understandable. Marriage contracts were legally binding documents, almost as binding as the marriage ceremony itself. Once the papers were signed, some couples didn’t even wait for the wedding day to consummate their relationship, seeing themselves as already bound. The marquess had certainly made that assumption, even though Ainsley had not.

  Breaking such a negotiated settlement made one vulnerable to a breach of contract lawsuit. In the eyes of the law—and of the polite world—Ainsley and her family would be perceived as the guilty party, deserving of whatever legal and social sanctions were imposed on them.

  Breach of promise suits, while rare, could be ruinous.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the contracts had been signed?” Royal asked her. Frustration seethed beneath the quiet tone of his voice.

  “I thought it unlikely . . . I hoped he would never do something this insane,” she said. “Especially not once you and I were married.”

  Her husband clamped his lips together and shot an angry look at the marquess.

  “So you see, Kendrick,” Cringlewood said with a smirk, “I can and will make your lives a misery, if you do not comply. But there is a simple solution. Ainsley departs this house today, and in six weeks one of you sues the other for adultery. Given that your marriage is obviously a sham, it should be an easy decision to make.”

  “Our marriage is not a sham,” Ainsley snapped. “It’s a true marriage in every way, I assure you.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Royal flinch. When she glanced up at him, his gaze flicked away from her.

  Her heart sank.

  “You cannot be serious,” Cringlewood said.

  “She’s completely serious. Legal and true in every sense.” Royal gave the marquess a taunting smile.

  The marquess clearly had to struggle for a moment before he could continue. “Ah, yes, but then there are those pesky little contracts.”

  “I don’t care if she signed the damn Magna Carta,” Royal growled. “Ainsley is not yours, and she never will be yours.”

  “In any case, my daughter certainly is,” the marquess said with malicious triumph. “It’s Tira, I believe, such an ugly, Scottish name. I’ll have to change that, certainly.”

  Ainsley didn’t remember moving but she found herself on her feet and standing only inches away from Cringlewood, her hands balled into fists.

  “You’ll never lay a hand on her,” she ground out. “I’ll deny everything.”

  “Too late, my dear,
” he said. “Your dear mamma already told me the entire truth. You will divorce Kendrick and return to me, or I’ll take your daughter from you and you’ll never see her again.”

  “That will never happen,” Royal said. “Tira stays with the Kendrick family, no matter what.”

  Tira stays.

  Ainsley’s heart shriveled at the possible meaning of those words. But how could she blame him? Her daughter’s safety must always come first, even if it meant . . .

  “And what if I agree to your demands?” she asked. “Would you leave Tira alone?”

  Royal’s hand closed around her arm. “Ainsley, stop!”

  She shook him off and kept her attention on the villain in front of her. “Well?”

  The marquess gave her that famously winning smile again. It made her want to vomit.

  “I’m sure I could be persuaded to leave her here in Scotland,” he said. “And if you become the biddable wife I know you could be, I might even let you visit her now and again. If you were very good, that is.”

  Royal stepped around her and grabbed the marquess by the cravat, lifting him onto his toes. Cringlewood’s eyes went wide with shock and he started to struggle. Royal shoved him hard against the bookcase behind him, tightening his other hand around his throat.

  “If you ever come near my wife or daughter again, I’ll kill you,” he said in a voice as cold as a Highland winter gale. “On my mother’s soul, I’ll end you.”

  “And if he doesn’t, I will,” said Logan, striding into the room.

  Royal glanced over his shoulder. “It’s about bloody time you showed up.”

  “Took the kitchen boy a while to track me down,” Logan said. “What do you want me to do with the bastard?”

  “Just get him out of here,” he said, shoving Cringlewood away.

  The marquess staggered, coughing. “That was a fatal mistake, Kendrick,” he hoarsely managed.

  Logan clamped a massive hand on Cringlewood’s shoulder and propelled him toward the door. “Let’s have a little chat about mistakes on the way out, shall we? Then we’ll see who’s made one.”

  “Get your blasted hands off me.” Cringlewood shot Ainsley a look of pure hatred as Logan pushed him toward the door.

  After a quick, troubled glance in their direction, Logan hurried out too. In the ensuing silence, Ainsley could hear Royal’s fractured breathing as he struggled to control his anger.

  “Royal, I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “For God’s sake, Ainsley, why didn’t you tell me about those blasted marriage contracts?”

  “I . . . I was afraid.”

  “Afraid that I wouldn’t marry you if I knew the truth?”

  She nodded, even as she struggled not to burst into tears. “Would it have made a difference to you?”

  “No .” He sucked in a breath, making a visible effort to calm himself. “I don’t know, but if you’d told me, I could have planned for it. As it is . . .”

  “I’m sorry,” she miserably whispered.

  “Consummating our marriage . . . was that because of this?”

  She flinched, even though she’d been expecting the question. “In part, but I still wanted to be with you. Still want to be with you.”

  He closed his eyes, looking so weary and frustrated it broke her heart. “Ainsley, when are you ever going to learn to trust me?”

  She had to fight back tears. “I do trust you. I love you.”

  “You’ve got an odd way of showing it,” he said in a bitter echo of his words from the other night.

  When he headed for the door with a noticeable limp, her heart clenched even harder. Had he hurt himself when he shoved Cringlewood against the bookcase?

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to speak to Logan, and then I’ll consult with the family’s lawyer about how to handle this before it spins completely out of control.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No, I want you to stay right here,” he said, throwing her a frustrated glance. “And for once, try to stay the hell out of trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “He’ll never forgive me,” Ainsley said. “Not this time.”

  She plunked her reticule down on the park bench. The dratted thing was heavy, since it concealed a small pistol she’d acquired before leaving England. Royal would have a heart spasm if he ever discovered she sometimes carried a weapon, but experience had taught her to be prepared for the worst.

  “Och, don’t be daft,” Angus scoffed. “Ye just caught him by surprise, and in front of the Sassenach prick, too. Royal was a wee bit embarrassed, that’s all.”

  She stared gloomily at the children playing on the other side of the garden square. “He barely spoke two words at dinner last night, and then he and Logan went off together for hours. I’m not sure when he even went to bed.”

  Actually, she was quite sure, although she would choke before admitting that she’d waited up for him. If he would have given her the chance, Ainsley could have adequately explained the reasons for her secretive behavior and how much she regretted it. Unfortunately, her hopes in that regard had gone unanswered, as Royal’s firm tread had passed by her bedroom door last night without hesitation.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to go after him. He’d obviously reached his own conclusions and needed no explanations from her.

  “The lads are workin’ on a plan to deal with the legalities,” Angus said. “It’s tricky, ye ken. But they’ll figure it out, especially once Nick arrives in town. He’ll deal with Lord Fathead, never ye fear.”

  “Angus, Lord Fat—er, Lord Cringlewood is anything but stupid. Ruthless, conniving, and without principle, but certainly far from stupid.”

  “He’s a jolter-head if he thinks he can take on the Kendricks and come away with his skin intact. Everythin’ will be as right as a trivet in no time. I promise.”

  “I very much doubt that.”

  “Here, stop bein’ such a gloomy guts and take hold of Tira. I can tell she’s wantin’ her mamma.”

  Ainsley arched her eyebrows at that bit of nonsense. Tira was thoroughly swaddled in a soft cashmere shawl, happily snoring away in her grandfather’s arms. Still, the gesture was a measure of the old fellow’s concern for her, and Ainsley was touched.

  She gently pulled the shawl back from her daughter’s face. Tira’s cheeks were sweetly flushed with sleep. Her mouth was a rosebud oval, emitting snores so adorable that Ainsley could hardly breathe. The possibility that she might lose her again wrapped a horrid vise around her chest.

  “I don’t want to wake her,” she whispered.

  Angus rolled his eyes and plopped Tira onto her lap. “Ye could run the Kiplingcotes Derby through this bloody square with no fear. Tira’s a grand sleeper, now that she’s gotten used to ye.”

  Ainsley settled the comforting bundle within her arms. Her daughter snuffled a bit against the ruffles of her pelisse, then nestled closer with a little yawn. Her eyelids fluttered for only a moment before the baby snores resumed.

  “Told ye,” Angus said. “She kens who ye are now, like I said she would.”

  “You never said that. You called me utterly hopeless on more than one occasion.”

  “Aye. I can be wrong—on the rare occasion.”

  “I must engrave this moment in my memory. Angus MacDonald admits he was wrong about me.”

  “I wasn’t wrong about the Ainsley ye was. I was wrong about the Ainsley ye are.”

  “That’s a rather murky distinction.”

  “Makes perfect sense to me. Now, just sit ye quietly and let the lads worry about Lord Sneaksby. We’ll kill the bloody Sassenach bastard before we let him hurt ye or Tira.”

  Since she’d nursed murderous thoughts herself, she couldn’t scold Angus for actually voicing them.

  “The marquess is an influential man, even given his current money problems. He could make our lives exceedingly hellish.”

  “We’r
e used to the English tryin’ to get the best of us, lass. The Kendricks can handle one poncy marquess.”

  “Yes, but—”

  He put a firm hand on her arm. “Ainsley, I ken yer worried, but ye’d best let Royal take care of this. It’s his job to protect ye and Tira.”

  “But I want to protect him, too.” She was terrified of Cringlewood’s vengeful nature, and dreaded what he could do to Royal.

  “Ye’ve got the rest of yer life to protect him. For now, just let Royal and the lads do what they do.”

  The fact that she had little standing under the law, and was almost entirely dependent on Royal and the family to protect her, was a frustrating state of affairs.

  “If you say so, Grandda. But it’s hard to sit and do nothing.”

  “Ye be takin’ Tira and yer old grandda for a spot of fresh air—and trustin’ Royal. I know it goes against the grain, but he won’t fail ye.”

  She carefully shifted Tira and turned to smile at him. “I know, and thank you for spending time with me. I know it’s mostly about Tira, but I still appreciate it.”

  “Fah. Did ye not just call me Grandda?”

  Ainsley mentally blinked. “I believe I did.”

  “There ye go, then. Now, just sit and enjoy the fine day while ye have the chance. The weather will be turnin’ soon enough.”

  “That’s a happy thought.”

  “Yer the one who married a Highlander and moved to Scotland.”

  “What was I thinking?” she joked.

  They sat in companionable silence until they heard raised voices behind them. Angus looked around.

  “Who’s young Will talkin’ to?” he asked.

  Hoisting Tira onto her shoulder, Ainsley stood and peered toward the street that fronted Kendrick House. Royal had made it clear that she was not to venture outside without an escort, not even for Tira’s daily airing in the little square. Ainsley had felt rather silly about the whole thing, with an undoubtedly armed Angus by her side, and the brawny William only yards away. The whole staff of Kendrick House was close by too.

  Still, it was good to be prudent, ergo the pistol in her reticule.

  “I’m not sure.” She studied William and the man in a greatcoat. “There’s a carriage right there. Maybe the man is asking for directions.”