Thorn in My Heart

by Liz Curtis Higgs

  When Leana appeared, her hair neady braided, her dark blue gown complementing her pale skin, he merely nodded in greeting. She took her seat, her expression serene. “Shall we see if their porridge has more to recommend it than the potatoes they dug up for your dinner?”

  Jamie looked at her, suppressing a smile with some effort. “Our host has been instructed to deliver two bowls when you came to the table. Tea and bannocks as well and a rasher of bacon. Will that suffice?”

  “More than enough,” she murmured, folding her hands in her lap. “My appetite is easily sated.”

  He ignored the teasing comment that sprang to mind—a lovers response, not at all appropriate. Breakfast was served and consumed with little discussion, their napkins put aside within the hour. A long day stretched before them. And, since it was the second of January, an even longer night. He looked at her across the table, hiding his feelings behind a mask of indifference. “What are your plans for the day?”

  She did not flinch at the sharpness of his tone. “Whatever you please, Mr. McKie. If it suits you, I would very much like to see what secrets Dumfries might be keeping from us.”

  Secrets?Aye, he had enough for the whole burgh. “And if it does not suit me to accompany you on this cold morning?”

  Her smile was sufficient to warm the room. “Then I will gladly pull a chair to the inns hearth and lose myself in a novel.”

  He could not keep the surprise out of his voice. “You brought a book for your bridal week?”

  “Aye.” She blushed a bit. “Evelina, in three volumes. I was not certain how the…weather might be in Dumfries. As well, I cannot remember when I last enjoyed seven days without working.” She stretched, beaming at the handful of patrons scattered about the inns dining room. “ ‘Twill be a luxury to read without some task being thrust into my hands.”

  Jamie stared at her, taken aback by her calm, almost confident demeanor. Where was the shy Leana he'd met months ago? She was not cheerful, like Rose, but she seemed most sure of herself for a woman who had no future to speak of. Her manner so intrigued him that, before he could stop himself, he offered to take her on a stroll up and down the streets of Dumfries.

  She smiled, amused by something. “I suppose Evelina and her adventures might wait until later.” When Leana stood, he did as well. “If you'll kindly retrieve my cloak from our room, Mr. McKie, we can begin at once.”

  McKie again. He pinched back a frown. “What happened to Jamie ?

  “I've been asking myself that all morning,” she said evenly, her blue gaze fixed on his. “Your formal tone and cold reception suggested I might best treat you as a stranger. For you see, I have one ambition this week, and that is to please you so completely that you cannot imagine life without me.”

  Stunned, he fell back into his seat. “Then our goals are quite at odds.”

  “I am not surprised.” She sighed, as though clearing her thoughts, then turned toward the door. “Shall we walk out then?”

  A courting term. Indeed, that's how it felt, as though they were courting. But that was impossible. He was married to the woman…or not married, if things could not be smoothed over with the kirk session. He was bedding her, yet she called him Mr. McKie. A most unsettling situation. Shaking his head, he hastened up the stair for her cloak and returned to find her waiting for him by the door, which was propped open to welcome the gentry to the King's Arms.

  They fell in step, climbing up the High Street. Though it was cold, no bitter wind tore at their scarves. Instead, they kept a leisurely pace and poked their heads into every establishment with a yawning door. Leana, more at ease than he could ever remember, carried on intelligent conversations with glove makers and apothecaries, greeted fishermen avoiding their boats—for all men of the sea agreed that Fridays bore naught but ill luck—and chatted with opinionated writers at the next table when they stopped at the George Inn for a dinner of roast lamb.

  Leana did not flirt with men, as Rose did without meaning to. Instead, she engaged merchants and tradesmen in thoughtful dialogue, asking perceptive questions. Leana had Lachlan's mind for business but none of his devious ways. No wonder Duncan sought her counsel with the ledgers at Martinmas.

  By day's end she was no more bonny than at the start of it, but Jamie found himself smiling when he should look grim and praising her when he meant to be silent. Supper was a pleasant plate of broth and bread before they retired and found themselves huddled beneath the bed blankets earlier than he'd intended. When he reached for her in the darkness, her response was immediate, her love for him undeniable, though he took care not to speak her name nor whisper any endearments. It was true; he appreciated her attentions. But he did not love her, not in the least.

  Saturday he slipped out before she awoke, leaving behind a note advising her to spend the day with Evelina while he attended to business. It was a ridiculous ploy; he had no business in Dumfries. He simply could not bear another day of misery, torn between his will and his desire, between what he knew to be proper and what he knew to be honest. He returned to the Kings Arms very late to find Leana fast asleep, her book still clasped in her hands, her candle guttering. Relieved, he undressed quickly, only to have her open one eye and smile at him. “Come to bed,” she whispered, and he did.

  The Sabbath morning dawned cold and damp, a steady rain overnight saturating the air. Seagulls soared above the High Street, their long, mournful cries a sad, two-note melody, then a series of short calls, as though the birds had changed their minds and started laughing.

  Jamie glanced at Leana as they walked down the sloping street toward Saint Michaels kirk, wondering if she'd noticed the gulls as well and heard the irony in their call. She tipped her head back to watch them swooping back and forth. “Are they sad or happy, do you think?”

  Leana missed very litde. “I suspect they are both,” he said. Like us.

  The kirk bells began ringing on both ends of the High Street—one for the New Church, as the townsfolk called it, the other for Saint Michaels. Jamie had planned to hear Dr. Burnside at the New Church, but Leana had assured Neda they would worship at Saint Michaels, so he obliged. A small compromise. It was not the kirk in Newabbey, so it hardly mattered. They would see no familiar faces, and their visit would be quickly forgotten.

  They stepped aside to make way for a carriage when the heel of her boot caught on a crack in the paved street, and Leana pitched forward. Without hesitating, Jamie slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him to keep her from falling onto the muddy street. He held her only for a moment until she righted herself but long enough to flood his mind with vivid images. His resolution to make her bridal week a miserable one was crumbling like Nedas shortbread.

  Four more nights and it would end, forever.

  It was best that way; it was right. Rose was still his first love, his only love. He would remind himself of that until he held the young lass in his arms.

  Sixty-One

  I've done my duty, and I've done no more.

  HENRY FIELDING

  They climbed the steps to Saint Michaels, its kirkyard littered with immense gravestones in chaotic array all the way to the front door. As befitted the custom of kirkin, Jamie had walked Leana direcdy there without taking any side streets and arrived after the service had well begun. With some reluctance, he offered her his arm before they entered, bewildered by her eagerness to observe the tradition when it was for naught.

  She tucked her hand in place, close to his heart, and they stepped through the doors. Every head turned, though only for a brief second. The two were strangers, a perfecdy ordinary husband and wife come shamefully late to service. One couple did not turn back though. They smiled and waved the two of them forward.

  Leanas eyes widened. “Neda!” she whispered. “Duncan!”

  Jamie's jaw tightened at the sight of the overseers lanky frame. Duncan Hastings. The one man from Auchengray who could break down his defenses with a single kind word.

  Leana dra
gged him forward to the pew where the couple sat waiting. It was the custom for the bridegrooms good friend to come to the kirkin, and the brides favorite as well, though they'd hardly expected them so far from home.

  “We had to come,” Neda explained in hushed tones, seating the couple between them, then squeezing Leanas hand in greeting. “Quiet now, and give the Almighty his due.”

  Jamie merely nodded at Duncan, not quite meeting the man's piercing blue gaze.

  ‘O Eternal God and most merciful Father,” the minister intoned, “we confess and acknowledge here before thy Divine Majesty that we are miserable sinners.”

  Jamie bowed his head and felt Leana do die same, dieir shoulders and knees brushing against each other in the crowded pew. A sinner. Aye, Leana was that. The worst kind of sinner: pretending she was innocent. Convincing herself on his wedding night that he loved her, wanted her, welcomed her as his bride.

  Yet the more he tried to tally Leana's flagrant transgressions, the more his own assaulted him. He'd sinned when he'd asked Leana to serve as a proxy bride, too impatient to wait for Rose and not caring that the lass might miss her own wedding. He'd sinned when he'd kissed Leana too thoroughly, danced with her too gaily, drunk too freely, and enjoyed her body so completely. The last was her sin as well, but try as he might, he could not put all the blame on her shoulders.

  He'd sinned again by agreeing to Lachlan's despicable plans for his daughters so he might claim Rose for his bride, not caring what it might cost the two women. Selfish. Thoughdess. Sinner.

  Not Leana. You, Jamie.

  And those were far from his first sins. He'd sinned when he'd bartered a birthright. He'd sinned when he'd stolen a brother's blessing. He'd sinned when he'd deceived a beloved father.

  Forgive me. He'd said the words by rote hundreds of times. Forgive me. Yet this time the tightness in his chest was real, and his plea came from not only his lips but his heart as well. Forgive me. Bent with the weight of his shame, his forehead nearly touched the pew before him.

  He felt more than heard the answer: Behold, I am with you.

  Nae. Jamie pressed his lips into a hard line, fighting against the very mercy he'd pleaded for. How could Almighty God remain by his side when he couldn't live with himself?

  The minister droned on, yet his words were alive. “Nothing is able to remove thy heavenly grace and favor from us. To thee, therefore, O Father, with the Son and the Holy Ghost, be all honor and glory, world without end. So be it.”

  “So be it,” the congregation responded.

  Can it be? Jamie lifted his head, troubled by a promise of favor that required nothing of him. He'd stolen a blessing from his father. Was it right to steal one from God as well?

  The precentor led the parishioners in a hymn, familiar yet not. The tune was the same, but the words had been altered in the new edition of the Paraphrases, forcing him to listen carefully. On his left Leana sang with a steady voice, seemingly unaffected by the words. For him they struck too close a chord.

  The wretched prodigal behold

  In misery lying low, Whom vice had sunk from high estate, And plunged in want and woe.

  Aye, far too close. He'd run away from home and found himself up to his ankles in sheep dung. His pockets were empty of silver and his heart full of misery, some of it by his doing. If God was with him, then why had his troubles increased tenfold? His stomach churning, Jamie was grateful when the many verses were finished and even more relieved to have the sermon and prayers over and find himself standing beneath a gray January sky again, his temporary anguish left behind in the pew.

  “May we treat ye both to a kirkin feast?” Duncan asked when they reached the High Street. “Our coin won't stretch far enough to cover the fare at the King's Arms, but we might be able to feed ye proper at the Hole i’ the Wa. Will that suit?”

  “Aye,” Jamie agreed, resigned to play the part of the doting husband, if only for the afternoon. The foursome enjoyed a simple meal at the old inn, then a long winter's walk. It was three o'clock before Duncan and Neda rode off for Auchengray, Neda's skirts modesdy kilted about her. Jamie waved them off with Leana by his side, then steered her through the inn door toward a warm hearth, for the air had grown frosty.

  “I'm glad they came,” she admitted, climbing the steps by his side. “I fear that when we return to Auchengray, nothing will be the same.”

  He paused on the stair, firmly grasping her elbow. “It cannot be the same, Leana. I am doing my duty here, nothing more. See that you dont pretend otherwise, or you will be sorely disappointed.”

  She lowered her gaze and her voice as well. “You could never disappoint me, Jamie. My expectations are such that anything you do delights me.”

  Such a woman did not make spurning her easy. Pleasant by day and passionate by night, she was the answer to every mans prayers except his, constandy putting his resolve to the test. One minute he was grateful for her companionship; the next he was furious for allowing himself even the smallest measure of enjoyment. Wednesday night arrived too soon, yet Thursday could not come quickly enough to end his misery.

  True to her promise, Leana had never groveled or begged for his attention. She'd simply showered him with love. Warm glances, gende touches, sweet words, and an honesty that took his breath away. Leana's love knew no bounds and required no bindings, yet he felt inexplicably tied to the woman. ‘Twas a cord that would need to be sharply cut come the morns morn.

  On their last night in Dumfries, the weather took a turn for the worse. “The hour grows late,” he murmured, extinguishing the last candle. A biting wind from the north rattled the inns windowpanes, the cold air whisding through the cracks and seeping beneath their bedcovers where they huddled in mutual despair.

  “This will be the last then.” Leana spoke without giving away her true feelings.

  “It must be,” he said, not needing to explain why. “I hope that I have…”

  “You have.” She kissed him, and he tasted the tears on her lips. “Jamie, my sweet husband,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you still.”

  Long after the Midsteeple bells rang at ten o'clock, they drifted into a fitful slumber, waking each other throughout the night without meaning to, tossing to and fro, trying to keep warm, trying to stay apart. At dawn they dressed quickly, avoiding each other's eyes, hastening down the stair to break their fast and be on their way to Auchengray. The bitter night had frozen the muddy ground solid, making it easier for the two-wheeled chaise to manage the road from Dumfries. When they paid their toll four miles south of the burgh, Jamie noticed how few coins were left of his mothers gift, though the week had cost him more dearly than silver.

  At least it had not cost him Rose. Her beauty, her laughter, her lively ways would be a welcome change after her plain, quiet sister. Yet Leana had stolen a part of him that he feared he could not retrieve. She'd touched his soul deeply, and Jamie resented her for it. For reaching a part of him he'd kept to himself, for exposing his weaknesses. As they rode in silence, a seed of bitterness grew inside him, turning into a smoldering anger the closer they came to Auchengray's gate.

  They made the final turn east at Lochend about noon. Two short miles remained. He snapped his whip, eager to get home to innocent Rose and away from her older but wiser sister. Whatever had taken place between them in Dumfries was over and best forgotten.

  “I dont want any unnecessary scenes,” he cautioned her. “From the moment we arrive, we are not to be alone in a room together nor to touch in any manner.”

  “As you wish, Jamie.” Leana's cool voice infuriated him. He'd meant to hurt her, to push her away with his heardess request, and she refused to be vexed.

  “If there should be some…unhappy news resulting from our time together, I trust you will let your father and me know as soon as you are certain.”

  She regarded him evenly. “Would a son be unhappy news to you, Jamie?”

  A son. There could be no better news in the world. But
not like this. He shrugged to hide his feelings. “I am thinking of Rose and how her hopes for the future would be crushed, along with mine.”

  “But if my hopes are crushed, that is without consequence to you?”

  “I cannot please two women, nor will I try to.” There. He'd ruffled her feathers. Let them stay so and keep them farther apart. Leana knew him too well, and that made her dangerous.

  Rose was waiting for him at the window when they brought the chaise to a halt near the front door. “Jamie, Jamie!” She ran out the door without coat or hat, her cheeks pink from the cold, her long braid flying behind her. Like a child. His spirits lifted at the sight of her. My sweet Rose! She practically pulled him out of the chaise, ignoring her sister. If Leana climbed out on her own, he did not notice.

  Duncan, Willie, and several of the others who labored in the farm steading strolled up, hiding something in their midst. “Dinna be walkin awa from us, lad.” Duncan produced a wicker creel weighed down, not with fish, but with stones. “In case ye dinna know, today marks yer first day back to work. Or have ye been workin hard all week?” Duncan winked at the others, whose good-natured laughter made Jamie's neck grow warm. “Ye must face yer creelin, Jamie McKie. Come, let me strap this basket on yer back. If ye ve been a worthy husband and assumed yer manly role, yer wife can cut ye free of it.”

  Jamie asked Rose to wait for him, then walked toward the group, hiding his irritation. Such customs were for common working folk, not for well-bred gendemen. And which are you, Jamie?Wixh a grimace he offered his back to Duncan, who took his time strapping the creel on his shoulders while the others taunted Jamie about his manhood. “A more ridiculous wedding custom could not be found in all of Scodand,” Jamie fumed, which only made them laugh harder. When the weight of the heavy basket was frilly on his back, he fought to keep his balance, refusing to bend more than necessary.