Thorn in My Heart

by Liz Curtis Higgs

  “Good morning, Nephew.” Lachlan put aside the book he was reading, taking his time about it. “Or should I say good afternoon?”

  Jamie balled his fists to keep from hitting him and unleashed his fury in words. “What have you done to me?”

  “Done? A great favor, from my point of view.” Lachlan waved toward the empty chair across from him. “I've provided for your every need for a week, then for a month, then for another seven weeks. Most men would call me generous.”

  Ignoring the offered chair, Jamie stepped closer, his neck thick with rage, his voice meant to convey what his fists could not. “I would call you something else.”

  “Aye, you should.” Lachlan nodded calmly, reaching for his dram of whisky. “You should call me your father-in-law, for that is what I am.”

  “Wheesht!” Jamie knocked the pewter cup from the mans hand, sending a spray of dark liquid across the cover of Lachlan's bed, staining the embroidered fabric.

  “Pity.” Lachlan merely shook his head, ignoring the outburst. “Leana worked long and hard on that bit of needlework.”

  “We will speak of Leana in a moment.” Jamie forced himself to breathe, to keep his mind clear and his temper in check, at least until he had some answers. “But first, we will speak of Rose. And those seven weeks you mentioned. I worked hard, Uncle, mucking out your filthy stables and feeding your starving sheep, every day except the Sabbath. I worked for Rose, for her bride price.”

  “For Rose? I thought you worked for me.”

  Jamie chewed on his words, then spat them out. “We had an arrangement, Lachlan. At the Globe in Dumfries, you told me—”

  “Aye, I remember every word of our short conversation, Jamie. You agreed to work until Hogmanay. You asked, ‘Might I marry Rose then?’ ”

  “Exactly!” Jamie roared, no longer caring if his temper claimed the upper hand. “To which you agreed.”

  “Wait.” Lachlan shook his finger at him. “I did not say aye’ or we are agreed’ or ‘it will be so.’ I simply said, ‘You might.’ There is no promise in the word might, now is there?”

  Jamie sank into the chair in utter dismay. “ Why? Why have you deceived me? All these months thinking Rose would be mine. From the very day I arrived. From the first hour I saw her.”

  “She's a wee bonny lass, I'll grant you.” Lachlan retrieved his pewter cup and poured another dram as though nothing had happened. “Too young for marriage though. We both know that's true. Even Rose knew, but you wouldn't listen to her.”

  Jamie dropped his head into his hands, feeling it throb against his fingers, while Lachlan went on explaining himself, spinning a web Jamie feared he might never untangle.

  “In east Galloway it is not our custom to give a younger daughter in marriage before her older sister is wed. Is it not the same in Monnigaff ?”

  Jamie could only nod at the terrible truth.

  “Well then. You have married a fine woman. Leana loves you, amie—

  “Nae!” Jamie lifted his head, his jaw clenched. “She may love me, but /do not love Leana. What did you tell your older daughter to convince her that I did? Did you use the word might, Uncle? Did you tell her that she might be welcome in my bed, that I might have room for her in my heart and in my life?”

  “Nae, I did not.” Lachlan pressed his lips in a tight line and shook his head firmly. “I only told Leana that the choice was hers to make.”

  “I don't believe you, Uncle. Not for one minute. You filled Leana's head with hopes and dreams and promised her what you could not deliver.”

  “But you delivered it for me, didn't you, Jamie?” Lachlan smiled broadly, revealing a crooked line of teeth that seldom saw the light of day. “Leana needed a husband. Rather desperately after Mr. McDougal put her aside. She wanted you, Nephew. And you complied.” He leaned back in his chair, pressing against the upholstery as though to make himself more comfortable.

  Jamie ground out the words. “I thought she was Rose.”

  When Lachlan laughed, Jamie shot to his feet, his fists clenched against his chest. “How dare you mock me!”

  “You are the one who has made a mockery of your marriage bed, Jamie. When Leana appeared by your side in the wee dark of night—of her own free will, mind you—did you honesdy think she was Rose? Did she look like Rose? Did she sound like Rose? Did she bear Rose's heathery scent or have her sisters soft, lithe hands? Why couldn't you tell the difference between my two daughters, Jamie?”

  “Because I was expecting Rose, not Leana!”

  “Oh?” Lachlan's brows arched. “The way your father was expecting Evan, not you?”

  Jamie's knees gave way beneath him, dropping him onto the chair, nearly tipping it over. “Don't tell me.

  “Aye, but I will tell you. You're a fine one to be blaming me for deceiving you! No one else in this house knows the twisted path that brought you to our door. The lies, the trickery. Wearing your brother's plaid, stealing his inheritance. Your innocent Rose does not know, nor does your wife, Leana. Only I know.” Lachlan leaned forward, thrusting his face into Jamie's. “Do you not see the hand of justice at work, James Lachlan McKie?”

  Jamie only saw red swimming before his eyes. Evan's red hair. A ruddy bowl of broth. Goat's blood in Glentrool's kitchen. A maiden's scarlet blood streaked across his bed linens.

  Lachlan's voice droned on, cutting Jamie's skin with his words, slicing open his heart with the deadliest of dirks. “Did you think that you could lie and steal from your family and God Almighty would simply look away? Turn die odier cheek? Do you not know what the Buik says? ‘Behold, ye have sinned against the LORD: and be sure your sin will find you out/ Did you not learn that verse at your fathers knee?”

  Jamie nodded as best he could. There were no words left.

  “You are angry with me, lad, when you've only yourself to blame. As you have deceived others, so have you been deceived. You fooled yourself into thinking Leana was Rose, just as Alec McKie convinced himself you were Evan.”

  “Leana,” he moaned.

  “Aye, another of your victims. She's ruined forever, lad. That blood can only be spilled once.”

  Jamie lifted his head, the weight of it nearly crushing him. “What am I to do?”

  “Leana is your wife now, Jamie. You made your choice. So did she. You cannot go back.”

  “Aye, but I cannot go forward either.” He glanced away, ashamed of his emotions. “Rose is the one I love. Rose, not Leana.”

  “Do you think the lass will have you now, after the unseemly things you have done?”

  Jamie gathered what hope he had left. “She might.”

  “Aye, that word again. Might. If she does still want you, Jamie, whatever would you do to deserve her?”

  He didn't deserve Rose, not after what he'd done. But he could earn the right to ask for her hand, could he not? “I would work.” He squared his shoulders, wiping at his damp eyes with the heel of his hand. “The lambing season is not far off, then the shearing. I'll work hard—”

  “For me?”

  “Aye, for you, Uncle. But for Rose's hand. Let there be no misunderstanding this time.”

  His uncle chuckled. “Jamie, you canna keep two wives.”

  Heat filled his cheeks, a shame he deserved to have displayed. “Leana will not want me for a husband. Not after…not after what I said to her this morning.”

  “Dont count on that, lad. She loves you sorely, Leana does. Did she not make that clear to you?”

  “Aye, she did.” Abundantly.

  Lachlan stared in his empty cup for a moment, twisting it back and forth in his hand, then he tipped it over his mouth for the last drop and banged it on his desk like a judge about to pronounce a sentence. “You've arranged for a week in Dumfries at the Kings Arms Inn, paid for with Rowena's silver. Take Leana there for her bridal week. Be a husband to her in every sense of the word. ‘Tis only fair when she's ruined for another.”

  “But Rose—”

  “Young as she is, the lass
can easily wait for another seven months, if she's willing. When she turns sixteen on the first of August, seven months from today, you may put Leana aside and marry Rose.”

  Jamie shook his head, incredulous. “You mean divorce Leana?”

  “I do, with my blessing, come August. But first you are required to give Leana seven days of your undivided attention in Dumfries. Undivided. Do I make myself clear?”

  Jamie nodded. It was only fair. “Aye, seven days with Leana.”

  “Then seven months of hard work to earn Roses hand.”

  Jamie exhaled, blotting out the memory of cold mornings in the byre and clothes smeared with dung. “Aye, you shall have it. Seven months of work for Rose.”

  “There is only one thorn in our plan, Jamie.” Lachlan leaned forward, lowering his voice as though curious ears were pressed against the spence door. “If Leana conceives a child—your child—in those seven months, then you are bound to remain her husband. I'll not have a grandson without a father.”

  “You shall not, Uncle.” The corners of Jamie's mouth twitched, tasting his first victory of the new year. Leana could not conceive without him. After her bridal week, she would not have the chance.

  Fifty-Four

  Let none but Him who rules the thunder

  Put this man and woman asunder.

  JONATHAN SWIFT

  Leana missed Neda's skillful fingers dressing her hair, buttoning all the tiny buttons of her gown. But she could not call down the stair for Neda to help her. Could not bear to see the look on the kind woman's face if she overheard Jamie and her father—arguing, no doubt, in the spence—and came to an obvious conclusion. Could not bear to think of the names Neda might mutter under her breath. Hizzie. Tairt.

  Nae. Neda loved her. Neda would not condemn her. Scold her, aye. Lecture her on proper Christian behavior, aye, for hours on end, and deservedly so. But Neda would see the way of things, that Leana had only meant to claim the man she loved and whom she thought, at last, had come to love her.

  I never said I hvedyou.

  His words rang like a deid bell through her weary head.

  And what of Rose? Would her sisters love for her die as well? Please God, may it not be 50/Not dear Rose, the wee lass whom she'd raised with the tender care of a mother all her young life. Rose would understand. Wouldn't she?

  Not if she loves Jamie as I do.

  Leana's busy hands paused, stunned at the possibility. Though she knew her sister considered their cousin braw and likable enough, Leana had never heard Rose confess to actually bving Jamie. Yet what if her feelings had changed? What if Rose genuinely loved him now? Oh, please, Rose. Not my Jamie! Fresh tears poured down her cheeks, already irritated from an hour of weeping. Jamie was her only hope. She not only loved him; she had given herself to him.

  If Jamie would not claim her, she would be alone and unloved die rest of her life.

  It is Jamie McKie, or it is no one.

  “Then it must be Jamie McKie,” Leana whispered to the mirror, wiping away the last of her tears with her handkerchief, then tucking it inside her skirt. The day was young, and Rose had not come home yet. There was still time to make things right with her father and with Jamie. And then with Rose.

  Her resolve strengthened, Leana brushed her hair with firm strokes and pinned up the long locks as best she could. What had her father said a few months ago? Something about having no saicrets in their household? Let him be the first, then, to speak the truth this new year.

  Leana tucked the last of her curls in place, pressed her hand to her chest to calm her quickening heart, and hastened down the stair. The servants greeted her with subdued voices, not looking up as she passed. “The day has eyes, the night has ears,” Neda would say. It seemed the whole household knew. She went straight to the spence and lifted her hand to knock on the door until she realized all was quiet inside the closed room. Had the men left the house, gone for a walk before dinner? She leaned one ear against the door panel to see if she could hear voices, then jumped slighdy when her fathers voice rumbled across the room.

  “You've arranged for a week in Dumfries at the Kings Arms Inn, paid for with Rowenas silver. Take Leana there for her bridal week.”

  Jamie all to herself for a week! Leana grew lightheaded at the thought, resting one hand against the wall to hold her steady, nearly missing what her father said next.

  “When she turns sixteen on the first of August…”

  Her heart sank. Rose.

  “…seven months from today, you may put Leana aside and marry Rose.”

  Put me aside? He cannot mean…

  “…divorce Leana?” Even Jamie sounded shocked. Her knees sagged under the weight of it, lowering her closer to the floor.

  She heard a note of caution in Lachlans voice. “You are required to give Leana seven days of your undivided attention in Dumfries.”

  Seven days. That was all. However glorious that bridal week might be, it would end all too soon, and Jamie would come home to Rose. For good.

  “There is only one thorn in our plan, Jamie.”

  A thorn? She tried to breathe, to stand, but could not.

  “If Leana conceives a child—your child—in those seven months, then you are bound to remain her husband.”

  She straightened, as though filled with air. A child! And Jamie as weil!

  Lachlans voice brooked no argument. “I'll not have a grandson without a father.”

  Nor I a son without one. Leana clasped her hands and pleaded with God, Please let Jamie agree. Please!

  Jamie's words rang out like a benediction. “You shall not, Uncle.”

  Leana threw her hands in the air, spinning in a circle, nearly bumping into the door. Not seven days—seven months! She and Jamie would live as husband and wife after all. There, at Auchengray. Surely she could conceive a child in seven months. There would be no need for a divorce. Please God may it be so. To think that she might be a wife and mother after all! Leana patted her cheeks, willing them to cool, then tapped on the door. The sooner she faced both men, the sooner she and Jamie might put the past hours behind them and move forward.

  “Who is it?” her father barked.

  “ ‘Tis Leana.” Opening the door, she ducked her head around it, hoping her gaze would not give away what she knew. “May I come in?”

  Her father waved her inside. “Your timing is excellent, Daughter. Your husband and I were just discussing you.”

  Jamie gave him a withering look, but Leana would not be dissuaded. Seven months, Jamie. And then, please God forever. “Thank you, Father.” She swept into the room with all the grace she could muster and folded her hands demurely before her. Jamie, his cravat askew, his dark beard showing, looked exhausted, beaten down. Lachlan, pressed and neat as the day before, looked delighted with himself.

  “What news have you for me, gentlemen?” She lifted her brows in anticipation, infusing her expression with all the love and hope that were hidden in her heart, while her father patiendy explained the unusual terms of their agreement. The same terms he'd just spoken in private, she noticed. For once perhaps her father could be trusted.

  “Will you agree to abide by my wishes, Leana?”

  She spoke her vow as clearly as she had in the kirk. “I will.”

  “And you, Jamie? Will you agree, with Leana as your witness, to assume the role of her loving husband for seven days in Dumfries and to work seven months at Auchengray for Rose's hand in marriage?”

  Before Jamie could speak, Leana quickly added, “Unless I am found with child. Then Jamie…” She turned to him, praying he would not change his mind. “Then Jamie must remain my husband and be a loving father to our firstborn.” First of many. Please God.

  Jamie's jaw hardened, though he nodded in assent. “I will.”

  Lachlan clapped his hands together, rubbing them with obvious glee. “It is settled then. Shall we pour a dram to seal our bargain?”

  Jamie's voice was sharp. “We shall not.”

 
; Lachlan shrugged. “Aye, well. No doubt you had whisky enough last night to quench your thirst for a day or two.”

  Jamie's gaze darkened. “Longer than that, Uncle.”

  “Seven months, I'll wager.” Lachlan unlatched the door and gave them both a parting nod. “You have much to discuss and a sister whose appearance you should prepare for momentarily. I expect the two of you to break the news to her. ‘Tis only fair.” He left them standing there, staring after him, the silence in the spence thick with unspoken misery and spent passion.

  Leana closed her eyes and waited. Let Jamie speak first.

  When he didn't do so after a moment, she looked about for somewhere to sit and noticed her neady stitched bedcover had been badly stained. “Goodness,” she murmured, touching the fabric. “Something's been spilled here.”

  “Whisky,” Jamie said with no emotion in his voice. “Knocked from Lachlan's hand.”

  “I see.” The dark, ugly stains would not come out. “It doesn't matter.” She chose the less comfortable of the two chairs pulled close to the feeble hearth and eased into it, not able to look at him yet. “I'll embroider another.”

  Jamie took the upholstered chair—her fathers favorite—and sat down heavily. “What of our marriage bed, Leana?” His tone reeked of sarcasm. “I suppose you'll embroider bedcovers for that as well?”

  She looked up and met his gaze. “You forget. I already have. Some of the linens that fill Rose's bottom drawer were the fruit of my labors, remember?”

  He leaned forward in his chair, his hands pressed against his knees, arms akimbo. “And what of the fruit of your womb, Leana? Yestreen at the kirk we sang about your ‘fruitful vine.’ Is that your expectation? That you will have my child and thereby claim me as your husband?”

  She lowered her gaze, hurt by the edge of anger in his voice, the look of a trapped animal in his eyes. “It is not for me to decide, Jamie. The Buik tells us that children are an heritage of the Lord and that the fruit of the womb is his reward.”