Laird of Ballanclaire

by Jackie Ivie

  “I doona’ think that sort of information will be necessary, Barrister Blair,” MacVale said.

  “An annulment can only take place if there was nae consummation of this union, especially in regards to the girl’s tender age and probable virginity. You ken the law. The king is demanding forfeiture of BalClaire and Haverly, with all adjoining properties, along with the fine of thirty thousand pounds if this marriage stands. I have to ask the questions. You ken that. If it was consummated, we have new issues. I will ask again.”

  Constant took a deep breath to control her emotions and her tears. She knew she had to lie. She just didn’t know if she could do it well enough. She moved her hands away from her face. She was grateful to be sitting. She feared she’d have fallen, otherwise.

  “What was the question again?” she asked.

  “Did you and Lord Ballanclaire consummate your union?”

  “I—”

  “Doona’ answer it, Constant!”

  Kameron’s words stopped her.

  “Lord Ballanclaire! One more word and you will be removed from the proceeding!”

  “The lass ruined her reputation for me! She deserves accolades and gratitude, and what does she get? Someone trying to ruin her again. Well, I refuse to allow it!”

  “Torquil, fetch more men!”

  Kameron was guarded by six men already, and they wanted more? Constant opened her mouth and said his name, and that seemed to stop everything. He looked across the room at her.

  “What will they do to you?” she asked in the silence that seemed to descend and hover over the room.

  He flinched. “Why? So you can sacrifice yourself for me again? I’ll na’ allow it! Give them the bloody annulment if that’s what you want, and end this! I canna’ stand much more, I tell you.”

  “If that’s what I want?”

  “Lord Ballanclaire! You will na’ say one more word!” yelled the portly Mr. Blair.

  The throng of men around Kameron shifted and moved to subdue him. Constant caught a glimpse of Kameron yanking his arms and swiveling his shoulder as he resisted. If he didn’t stop, he’d be breaking his collarbone again—or worse.

  “Doona’ just stand there, Torquil! Get more guards!”

  The servant man was at the door. Constant spoke quickly to stop him. “Wait! Please. Wait. You won’t need more men. I agree to an annulment. I will sign documents to that effect. I will. Please.”

  “And you’ll answer the question?”

  “What was it again?” Constant asked.

  “Was the union consummated?”

  “Damn you, Blair! When I’m duke—”

  “No.” Constant said it loudly, halting Kameron’s words as well as the guards’ efforts to hold him. When Kameron cried out, two of the guards stepped away.

  “You agree to an annulment, based on the fact that nae consummation of this union took place?”

  Constant looked back to the portly lawyer. “Yes,” she replied quietly.

  “You are agreeing to this of your own free will?”

  “Yes,” she replied again.

  “You will also accept the sum of one thousand pounds, paid yearly to you until such time as your death?”

  They were paying her off? Oh no. Never. Her stomach even revolted at the thought. She opened her mouth to tell them no, and then from out in the hall she heard the distinct sound of Abigail’s crying.

  Oh, dear God, no! Horrified and panic-stricken, Constant stood. “Do you have the documents ready to sign?” she asked.

  “You agree to the sum and will never impress yourself on Duke Ballanclaire, or his heirs, or any of his assigns?”

  “Yes. I agree. I do. Yes. Hurry.”

  The crying was getting louder. Constant raced to Barrister Blair’s side and reached for the quill.

  “Do you wish to read through the document you are about to sign?”

  “No. Give me the pen. I agree to everything that’s written. Just hurry.”

  She’d finished and was lifting the quill to blow on the ink when someone knocked at the door. Her heart fell to the bottom of her belly. She looked up, locked glances with Kameron for an instant, and then turned toward the door as it opened slowly.

  Martha stood there, looking small and insignificant and frightened. She had a twin in each arm. She looked ready to cry, too.

  “I’m so sorry, mistress. I tried everything. Abigail wouldn’t hush and she woke her brother. I’m so sorry. I’d never disturb you in a conference, but they wouldn’t calm for me. They want their mother.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Everything happened at once. Constant’s mind wasn’t capable of absorbing it. The moment realization hit Kameron, he shoved through his guards and slammed aside obstacles to reach the twins, and then he just stood there, breathing heavily as he looked down at them. Abigail was squalling even louder. Benjamin had joined her. And Martha burst into tears that rivaled the babies’. The guards reached Kam next and formed a partial wall about him. Someone yelled. Something dropped with a thud. Someone else gave a cry for order. And Constant stood rooted in place, the quill dripping ink down her arm, while she watched all of it happen.

  “My God, Constant! You had my child? I mean children? You had . . . twins? And one is . . . my son? You had my heirs?”

  His voice choked with emotion. She couldn’t reply. There wasn’t anything she could say. He was searing her in place with those golden-brown eyes. They were glazed over with moisture and thoroughly dazed. And then they narrowed.

  “And you weren’t even going to tell me?”

  Constant’s cry came a moment before she fell. Her last conscious thought was that she hadn’t been breathing shallowly and quickly enough.

  “This changes everything,” someone whispered.

  The response was just as soft, but argumentative. “It changes naught. She agreed to the annulment. She signed the documents. We have what the duke requires.”

  “She was under duress.”

  “She testified otherwise. There is no further issue here. We have her testimony that the marriage was na’ consummated.”

  “Any fool can see that’s complete nonsense.”

  “So?” It was the portly one again. “It will na’ be the first time a child is declared illegitimate based on the annulment of his parents’ marriage. King Henry the Eighth did much the same to his firstborn. And please recollect, we have nae choice. The Princess Althea still lives. Spain is requiring the alliance take place. His Majesty is demanding a fortune in land and silver. We have nae choice. We have to file the annulment document.”

  “We canna’ do that. It’s too obvious it was consummated, despite her testimony.”

  “Just because a woman possesses children, does na’ make it a foregone conclusion they’re a product of her marriage.”

  “You canna’ be serious. Another man siring those bairns? They’re the image of His Lordship. Nae court in the land would decree otherwise.” MacVale clucked his tongue.

  “What do you suggest, then?”

  “Perhaps the forfeiture of properties and the fine of thirty thousand would be worth it to His Grace.”

  “What? Losing BalClaire alone would be ruinous. It’s been the seat of Ballanclaire clan power for five hundred years! As for the fine? It would bankrupt Their Graces. We have to think of something else. Too much is at stake.”

  “There is another option. I have just thought of it.”

  That was the thin barrister again. Constant held her breath.

  “What?”

  “Her death.”

  Constant was afraid she gave away her feigned unconsciousness with the minute slip in her breathing. She couldn’t believe she’d heard him right.

  “Her death? Even I would na’ go that far, MacVale.”

  “Nae! Think! I doona’ mean her actual death.”

  “I begin to see . . . You’re thinking if we get documentation of her death, then His Lordship can wed Princess Althea, as required. Better yet, ther
e is already an heir to Ballanclaire. This has potential. It does. I dinna’ ken you had it in you, MacVale.”

  “We’ll also need to do some hiring. We’ll need wet nurses, nannies, and such, and I ask you—is na’ the perfect candidate here already?”

  “You’re thinking to hire her?”

  “Why na’? She’s been attending to them until now.”

  “His Lordship will never agree. You heard him. He’s barely under our control now, and that’s with two dozen men.”

  “Then he is na’ to know.”

  “I’m na’ certain I follow your train of thought, MacVale, but I am intrigued.”

  “Hush! She’s waking.”

  Constant scrunched up her nose and groaned. She blinked her eyes open next and tried to sit up. That’s when she saw she was still in Madame Hutchinson’s parlor, although someone had moved her to a settee. She shifted into a sitting position and moved her legs back to the floor. And looked out into the room.

  Constant located Kameron easily. He was sitting in the chair she’d vacated, two guards on either side of him. He had a baby in each hand that he then supported atop a knee. He was rotating them slightly back and forth and staring from one to the other in turn as if mesmerized. He wasn’t the only one. The twins were almost four months of age, and focused easily now. They normally fretted and cried with strangers, but hadn’t any qualms about Kameron. Quite the opposite. Constant watched as they both went from staring at him to giving him lopsided smiles, and then first Benjamin and then his sister started making bubbles as they cooed up at their father.

  Constant couldn’t help smiling. Every other person in the parlor seemed to have the same expression, except Kameron, who still looked stunned.

  “My word, Constant, they’re the most beautiful bairns I’ve ever seen. You ken?”

  He turned to look over at her. She gulped, thought of any lie she could invent, discarded them all, and finally nodded.

  “And look. They even have my eyes.” He turned back to the babies to watch as they followed his face.

  Constant sighed. “They take after their father, Kameron. It isn’t a far stretch to see where their beauty comes from.”

  “That maid spoke of Abigail and Benjamin. I have one of each? Is this one my daughter, then?”

  He put the babies against his chest and stood. Constant watched as he walked over to her and sat beside her. The guards formed a corridor of sorts to allow it. The twins weren’t used to being carried on a man’s forearms, but neither one seemed to mind, she noticed, as Kameron put them back atop his knees. The guards moved, forming a semicircle behind them around the settee, hovering. Watching. It was an odd feeling.

  Kameron rolled his hand, moving Benjamin. “Is this one my daughter?”

  “No.”

  “This one is . . . my son, then?”

  His voice warbled. Constant reached out to stroke Benjamin’s hand. His fingers closed on one of hers.

  “Yes. This is your son. His name is Benjamin,” she answered.

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  “No son of mine has only one name. I actually have six.”

  “I know. I just heard them,” she replied.

  “We’ll correct it when he’s baptized.”

  “Pardon the interruption, my lord, but there seems to be a bit of difficulty with that plan.”

  “Difficulty?” Kameron looked up and frowned at the two barristers standing in front of him.

  “Yes. This woman has signed an annulment. The children no longer have your name. They canna’ be baptized and given it. They’re bastards.”

  “That’s nonsense. You ken it as well as I do. My children are as legitimate as they come.”

  “Na’ with an annulment, my lord. We have our orders.”

  “Well, I’m changing them.”

  “You canna’ change them. His Grace was most specific.”

  Kameron looked down at the babies and then he handed Abigail to Constant. She watched as he cradled Benjamin against his chest. Kam looked across at the two barristers. The thin one tugged at his cravat again. The portly one grew red.

  “You have annulment paperwork signed by my wife. Burn it. I’m ordering you,” Kameron said in an authoritative tone she’d never heard him use before.

  “But, the duke—”

  “If my father wishes to see me again, he’ll concede.”

  “You doona’ seem to understand, my lord. You have nae choice. We brought twenty-four men to make certain of it.”

  “You could have brought a hundred. It would na’ stop me. I agreed to this if Constant wanted it and if she was na’ harmed. Well, now I add further stipulation: my children are na’ harmed. Having them declared bastards harms them. Gentlemen?”

  Constant watched as the two lawyers conferred. She knew what they intended. She just didn’t know how they’d present it. They turned back.

  “We have a proposition, my lord.”

  “Verra well. Propose it.”

  “The duke demands that this marriage be annulled. He does not wish to lose your ancestral estates or so much silver to the crown. We were to gain an annulment at whatever cost.”

  “So?”

  “Your father has na’ had the choice of losing his grandchildren put before him. He may come to the same determination you have. We will na’ know unless we ask him.”

  “Then, go. Ask him.”

  They started conferring again. Constant watched with wide eyes. Kameron was willing to turn down a royal bride, lose several estates and the land with it, and pay thirty thousand pounds—an amount she couldn’t even grasp—just to remain wed to her? She was reeling over the amount he stood to lose if he did so. She put her hand on his arm. He looked down at her long enough for her to feel her pulse quicken along with her breathing. Then he turned back to the lawyers.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “We believe the best way to put this option before the duke is to present it as a fait accompli, my lord.”

  “Which means?”

  “We believe if the duke sees the children, he may agree with you. We believe you may have the upper hand in your bargaining if you present it that way.”

  “So the children travel with us? Is that what you propose?”

  “We also propose that the annulment be enforced as if it were legalized, as it will be if your father does na’ agree.”

  “What?”

  Kam stood. He was fortunate he had the compliant twin rather than Abigail. Benjamin simply rested in the crook of his father’s left arm and watched everything from that angle.

  “We are under orders from your father, my lord. He’s our laird. We’re sworn to uphold his wishes. As Ballanclaire clansmen. You ken the law.”

  “What will this mean for me?”

  “The mistress and her children sail with us, but she travels as one of the wet nurses. This is a platonic voyage, and there will be nae marriage in force unless His Grace decrees it so at the end of it.”

  Constant was blushing.

  “That is ridiculous. Worse than ridiculous,” Kameron muttered.

  “Would you rather she became known as your mistress?”

  “Never. She is my lady wife. I will na’ abide that word in any context attached to her name. You use it again at your own peril. You ken?”

  Kam’s threat was stated in the same authoritative tone he’d used earlier. Constant felt an immediate flare of emotion, followed by a glow. Then an infusion of absolute wonder.

  “Please understand, Your Lordship. We have signed paperwork. We have full right to file these documents and make this annulment legal today. We are offering to hold off doing our duty for the time being. We are agreeing to let your father decide the issue, rather than follow his orders outright. Doona’ force the issue. We are still His Grace’s men. Please.” Barrister MacVale was speaking. He looked as though he spoke the truth.

  “You want me to travel with Constant and na’ let anyone ken who she is?
Be unable to claim her as my wife? Not converse with her? Or touch her? Nor claim my marital rights? That is holding me to the extreme, gentlemen.”

  “If there is the creation of another child, it might simply be another bastard, my lord. You will have three children you canna’ claim, rather than two.”

  . . . and the lie about my death would blow up in your faces, Constant supplied in her mind.

  “And I can walk down the street right now, find another magistrate, and marry her again.”

  “You would na’ get through your guards, Lord Ballanclaire.”

  “That sounds like a challenge,” Kam replied.

  She had to do something. It looked as if warfare was about to erupt. His guards had their hands on their swords. Kameron looked tensed and ready. Even with a babe in the crook of his arm.

  Constant stood. “Kameron. If you’re going to fight, hand me Benjamin. Right now.”

  He looked down at the babe as if he’d forgotten him. His features softened.

  “Perhaps we can compromise?” she asked in the silence that followed.

  “With what? Their plan? You’re my wife, Constant.”

  “We’ll be on our way to your country. All of us. It’s more than I had before.”

  “Constant—”

  “How long is this voyage, gentlemen?” she asked, interrupting him.

  Less than a week out, she knew the voyage was too long. To know Kameron was on the same ship, out on the same span of ocean, and be unable to speak to him, ruined what sleep she got and made every meal unpalatable on her tongue. She knew the solution she’d overheard when the lawyers thought she was sleeping was the only viable option. Kameron was living a fairy tale. It wasn’t going to have a happy ending. No duke would accept her as a daughter. She was better suited as a wet nurse. The barristers and the guards saw it clearly enough.

  All of which meant that Constant was being offered the role of caring for her own children. She understood and accepted it. Only at night would her guard drop. By the fifth night, it was punishment to try to sleep. The twins had their own cabin, down the corridor from her. They each had a nanny for the voyage. They had a nurse. There were even two more wet nurses, because the barristers had insisted on hiring them. All of which meant her babies were being loved and fed and crooned to by someone other than her. It was depressing. It was maddening. It was frustrating. And each day it got worse. She endured it only because her children were not suffering. In fact, Constant’s anxiety had caused her to produce less milk, so she was glad her children were well fed.