The Earl's Convenient Wife (Harlequin Romance)

by Marion Lennox

  ‘Hurt?’ He was still eyeing her with incredulity. ‘You hit me and ask if it hurts? If I say no, will you do it again?’ And it was almost as if he was goading her.

  She stared at him, but her stare was blind.

  ‘I won’t...hit you.’

  ‘What have I possibly said to deserve that?’

  ‘You judged me.’

  ‘I did. Tell me what’s wrong about my judgement.’

  ‘You want the truth?’

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ he said wearily and her hand itched again.

  Enough. No more. Say it and get out.

  He wanted the truth? He wanted something he didn’t know? She took a deep breath and steadied.

  Let him have it, then, she told herself. After all, the only casualty was her pride, and surely she ought to be over pride by now.

  ‘Okay, then.’ She was feeling ill, cold and empty. She hated what she was about to say. She hated everything that went with it.

  But he was her husband, she thought bitterly. For now. For better or for worse she’d made the vows. The marriage would need to be annulled and fast, but meanwhile the truth was there for the telling. Pride had to take a back seat.

  ‘I make no profit. I won’t inherit the castle, no matter how married I am,’ she told him. ‘Believe it or not, I did this for you—or for your inheritance, for the Duncairn legacy Eileen cared so much about. But if I can’t see you without wanting to hit out, then it’s over. No lies are worth it, no false vows, no inheritance, nothing. I’ve tried my best but it’s done.’

  Done? The world stilled.

  It was a perfect summer’s day, a day for soaking in every ounce of pleasure in preparation for the bleak winter that lay ahead. But there was no pleasure here. There was only a man and a woman, and a chasm between them a mile deep.

  Done.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked at last.

  ‘I mean even if we managed to stay married for a year, I can’t inherit,’ she told him, in a dead, cold voice she scarcely recognised. ‘I’ve checked with two lawyers and they both tell me the same thing. Alan left me with massive debts. For the year after his death I tried every way I could to figure some way to repay them but in the end there was only one thing to do. I had myself declared bankrupt.’

  ‘Bankrupt?’ He sounded incredulous. Did he still think she was lying? She didn’t care, she decided. She was so tired she wanted to sink.

  ‘That was almost three years ago,’ she forced herself to continue. ‘But bankruptcy lasts for three years and the lawyers’ opinions are absolute. Because Eileen died within the three-year period, any inheritance I receive, no matter when I receive it, becomes part of my assets. It reverts to the bankruptcy trustees to be distributed between Alan’s creditors. The fact that most of those creditors are any form of low-life you care to name is irrelevant. So that’s it—the only one who stood to gain from this marriage was you. I agreed to marry you because I knew Eileen would hate the estate to be lost, but now... Alasdair, I should never have agreed in the first place. I’m sick of being judged. I’m tired to death of being a McBride, and if it’s driving me to hitting, then I need to call it quits. I did this for Eileen but the price is too high. Enough.’

  She took off her shoes, then wheeled and started walking.

  Where was a spacecraft when she needed one? ‘Beam me up, Scotty...’ What she’d give to say those words.

  Her feet wouldn’t go fast enough.

  ‘Jeanie...’ he called at last but she didn’t even slow.

  ‘Take your car home,’ she threw over her shoulder. ‘The agreement’s off. Everything’s off. I’ll see a lawyer and get the marriage annulled—I’ll do whatever I need to do. I’d agreed to look after the castle for the next few weeks but that’s off, too. So sue me. You can be part of my creditor list. I’ll camp in Maggie’s attic tonight and I’m on the first ferry out of here tomorrow.’

  ‘You can’t,’ he threw after her, sounding stunned, but she still didn’t turn. She didn’t dare.

  ‘Watch me. When I reach the stage where I hit out, I know enough is enough. I’ve been enough of a fool for one lifetime. Foolish stops now.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THERE WAS ONE advantage to living on an island—there were only two ferries a day. Actually it was usually a disadvantage, but right now it played into Alasdair’s hands. Jeanie might be heading to Maggie’s attic tonight but she’d still be here in the morning. He had time.

  He needed time. He needed to play catch up. Jeanie was right: if she’d been a business proposition, he would have researched before he invested.

  An undischarged bankrupt? How had he not known? The complications made his head spin.

  The whole situation made his head spin.

  He tried to get her to ride home with him but she refused. Short of hauling her into the SUV by force he had to let her be, but he couldn’t let her walk all the way. He figured that was the way to fuel her fury and she was showing enough fury as it was. He therefore drove back to the castle, found her car keys hanging on a nail in the kitchen, drove her car back along the track until he reached her, soundlessly handed her the keys, then turned and walked back himself.

  She must have spent a good hour trying to figure out how not to accept his help, or maybe she didn’t want to pass him on the track. Either way, he was back at the castle when her car finally nosed its way onto the castle sweep.

  Maybe he should have talked to her then, but he didn’t have all the facts. He needed them.

  Luckily he had help, a phone call away.

  ‘Find anything there is to find out about Jeanie Lochlan, born on Duncairn twenty-nine years ago,’ he told his secretary. Elspeth was his right-hand woman in Edinburgh. If anyone could unearth anything, it was her.

  ‘Haven’t you just married her?’ Elspeth ventured.

  ‘Don’t ask. Just look,’ he snapped and whatever Elspeth heard in his voice he didn’t care.

  Jeanie was back in her rooms downstairs. He was in his sitting room right over hers. He could hear her footsteps going back and forth, back and forth. Packing?

  Finally he heard her trudge towards the front door.

  He met her at the foot of the castle stairs and tried to take an enormous suitcase from her.

  ‘I can manage.’ Her voice dripped ice. ‘I can cope by myself.’

  And what was it about those few words that made him flinch?

  She was shoving her case into the back of her battered car and he was feeling as if...feeling as if...

  As if maybe he’d messed something up. Something really important.

  Yes, he had. He’d messed up the entire Duncairn empire, but right now it felt much more personal.

  She closed the lid of the boot on her car and returned. He stood and watched as she headed for the kitchen, grabbed crates and wads of newspaper and headed for the library.

  He followed and stood at the door as she wrapped and stowed every whisky bottle that was more than a third full.

  The B & B guests would come back tonight and be shattered, he thought. Half the appeal of this place on the web was the simple statement: ‘Genuine Scottish Castle, with every whisky of note that this grand country’s ever made free to taste.’

  He’d seen the website and had congratulated his grandmother on such a great selling idea.

  ‘The whisky’s Jeanie’s idea,’ Eileen had told him. ‘I told her I thought the guests would drink themselves silly, but she went ahead and bought them anyway, out of her own salary. She lets me replenish it now, but the original outlay and idea were hers. So far no one’s abused it. The guests love it, and you’re right, it’s brilliant.’

  And the guests were still here. They’d want their whisky.

  ‘And don’t even think about claimi
ng it,’ she snapped as she wrapped and stowed. ‘I bought the first lot out of my wages so it’s mine. Be grateful I’m only taking what’s left. Alasdair, you can contact Maggie if you want my forwarding address...for legalities. For marriage annulment. For getting us out of this final foolishness. Meanwhile that’s it. I’m done and out of here. From this day forth I’m Jeanie Lochlan, and if I never see a McBride again, it’ll be too soon.’

  She picked up her first crate of whisky and headed to the car. Silently he lifted the second and carried it after her.

  She shoved both crates into the back seat and slammed the door after them. Her little car shuddered. It really was a banger, he thought.

  Alan’s wife. An undischarged bankrupt. Alan... He thought of his cousin and he felt ill.

  ‘Jeanie, can we talk?’

  ‘We’ve talked. Goodbye.’ She stuck out her hand and waited until he took it, then shook it with a fierceness that surprised him. Then she looked up at his face, gave one decisive nod and headed for the driver’s seat.

  ‘I’m sorry about the castle,’ she threw at him. She could no longer see him. She was hauling on her seat belt, moving on. ‘And I’m sorry about your company. On the upside, there are going to be some very happy dogs all over Europe.’

  * * *

  He stood and watched her as she headed out of the castle grounds, along the cliff road towards the village. When she disappeared from view he watched on.

  His entire financial empire had just come crashing down. He should be gutted.

  He was gutted but what was uppermost in his mind right now was that he’d hurt her. She’d hit him but the next moment she’d drawn back as if he’d been the one who’d hit her.

  He had made assumptions, he thought, but those assumptions had been based on facts. He knew how much money Eileen had withdrawn from the company when Jeanie and Alan had married. ‘It’ll set them up for life,’ Eileen had told him. ‘I know Alan’s not interested in the company but he is my grandson. He wants his inheritance now, and if it helps him settle, then he should have it.’

  The amount she’d given the pair had been eye-watering. And yes, Alan’s lifestyle had been ruinous but his death must have meant most of the capital was intact. Surely Alan couldn’t have gambled that much?

  Surely?

  He’d always thought Jeanie’s decision to come back here to the castle was an attempt to ingratiate herself with his grandmother. The contents of Eileen’s will had proved him right.

  The sight of her heading away in her ancient car gave him pause.

  An undischarged bankruptcy...

  If it was true, then the castle was forfeit no matter whether they married or not.

  And with that thought came another. He’d loved the castle since he was a child, even when it was little more than a ruin. Eileen’s restoration had made it fabulous. She’d been overwhelmingly proud of it—and so was he. He gazed up now at the turrets and towers, the age-old battlements, the great, grand home that had sheltered so many generations of his family. That had provided work for so many islanders...

  He was the Lord of Duncairn. Even though he no longer used it, the title, but the castle and the island were still important to him. Desperately important. With her leaving, Jeanie had sealed the castle’s fate. It would leave the family forever.

  He was forcing his mind to think tangentially. If what she’d just told him was based on facts, then it wasn’t Jeanie who’d sealed the castle’s fate. It had been Alan.

  He thought suddenly of the night Alan had been killed. He’d been driving a brand-new sports car, far too fast. A clear road. An inexplicable swerve to the left, a massive tree.

  Jeanie had been thrown clear, suffering minor injuries. Alan had died instantly.

  He’d thought until now it had been alcohol or drugs that had caused the crash, but now... Had it been suicide? Because of debt?

  Had he tried to take Jeanie with him?

  He’d been too caught up with Eileen’s grief to ask questions. What sort of fool had he been?

  A car was approaching, a low-slung, crimson sports car. The couple inside wore expensive clothes and designer sunglasses. The car spun onto the driveway, sending up a spray of gravel. The pair climbed out, looking at the castle in awe.

  And they also looked at Alasdair. He was still in his wedding finery. Lord of his castle?

  He’d lose the castle. Alan had gambled it away.

  And he’d gambled more than the castle away. Jeanie... He’d gambled with her life.

  ‘Hi, there.’ The young man was clearly American, and he was impervious to the fact that Alasdair’s gaze was still following Jeanie’s car. He flicked the boot open and pointed to the baggage, then turned back to his partner. ‘This looks cool,’ he told her. ‘And check out the doorman. Great touch.’ And he tossed the car keys to Alasdair, who was so stunned that he actually caught them.

  ‘This is just what we ordered—real Scotland,’ he continued. ‘Wow, look at those ruins down by the sea. You can put them on the Internet, honey. And check out the battlements. I’ve half a mind to put in an offer for the place, doorman and all. But first, my love, let’s check out this whisky.’ He glanced back at Alasdair. ‘What are you waiting for, man? We need our bags straight away.’

  ‘Carry your own bags,’ Alasdair snapped. ‘I don’t work in this place. I own it.’

  Only he didn’t.

  * * *

  ‘As far as short marriages go, this must be a record.’

  Down in the village, Maggie had chosen a top-of-the-range bottle from Jeanie’s crates and had poured two whiskies. They were sitting at Maggie’s kitchen table, surrounded by the clutter of Maggie’s kids, Maggie’s fisherman husband and the detritus of a busy family. The ancient stove was giving out gentle warmth but Jeanie couldn’t stop shaking. Maggie’s hug had made her feel better, the whisky should be helping, but she had a way to go before shock lessened.

  ‘So the marriage lasted less than an hour,’ Maggie continued. ‘I’m guessing...not consummated?’

  ‘Maggie!’

  ‘Just asking.’ Maggie grinned and raised her glass. ‘You might need to declare that to get an annulment—or am I thinking of the bad old days when they checked the sheets?’

  ‘I can hardly get a doctor to declare me a virgin,’ Jeanie retorted, and Maggie’s smile broadened. But behind her smile Jeanie could see concern. Real concern.

  ‘So what happened? Did he come on too fast? Is he a brute? Tell me.’

  If only, Jeanie thought, and suddenly, weirdly, she was thinking of her mother. Heather Lochlan had died when Jeanie was sixteen and Jeanie still missed her with an ache that would never fade.

  ‘He’s not a brute. He’s just...a businessman.’ She buried her face in her hands. ‘Mam would never have let me get myself into this mess,’ she whispered. ‘Three husbands... Three disasters.’

  ‘Your mam knew Rory,’ Maggie retorted. ‘Rory was no disaster. Your mam would have danced at your wedding.’

  She well might have, Jeanie thought. Rory had been an islander, born and bred. He’d been older than Jeanie by ten years, and he’d followed his father and his grandfather’s way to the sea. He’d been gentle, predictable, safe. All the things Jeanie’s dad wasn’t.

  She’d been a mere sixteen when her dad had taken control of her life.

  Her mam’s death had been sudden and shocking, and Jeanie’s dad had turned to drink to cope. He’d also pulled Jeanie out of school. ‘Sixteen is well old enough to do the housework for me. I’m wasting no more of my money.’

  She’d been gutted, but then Rory had stepped in, and amazingly he’d stood up to her father. ‘We’ll marry,’ he’d told her. ‘You can work in the fish shop rather than drudge for your father. You can live with my mam and dad.’

  Safe... That
was what Rory was. She’d thought she loved him, but...

  But working in the fish shop, doing an online accountancy course because she ached to do something other than serve fish and clean, waiting for the times Rory came home from sea, fitting in with Rory’s life...sometimes she’d dreamed...

  It had never come to a point where she’d chafed against the bonds of loving, for Rory had drowned. She’d grieved for him, honestly and openly, but she knew she should never have married him. Safety wasn’t grounds for a marriage. She’d found a part-time job with the island solicitor, and she’d begun to think she might see London. Maybe even save for a cruise...

  But it had been so hard to save. She’d still been cleaning for her in-laws. She’d been earning practically nothing. Dreams had seemed just that—dreams. And then Eileen had come and offered her a job, acting as her assistant whenever she was on the island. And with Eileen...Alan.

  Life had been grey and drab and dreary and he’d lit up everything around him. But...

  There was that but again.

  ‘Mam would have told me not to be a fool,’ she told Maggie. ‘Maybe even with Rory. Definitely with Alan and even more definitely with this one.’

  ‘Maybe, but a girl has to follow her heart.’

  ‘My heart doesn’t make sense. I married Rory for safety. I married Alan for excitement. I married...this one...so he could keep his inheritance. None of them are the basis for any sort of marriage. It’s time I grew up and accepted it.’

  ‘So what will you do now?’ Maggie was watching her friend with concern.

  ‘I’m leaving the island. I never should have come back after Alan’s death. I was just...so homesick and battered, and Eileen was kind.’ She took a deep breath. ‘No matter. I’ve enough money to tide me over for a few weeks and there are always bookkeeping jobs.’ She raised her whisky to her friend. ‘Here’s to an unmarried future,’ she said.

  ‘Och,’ Maggie exclaimed, startled. ‘You can’t expect me to drink to that.’

  ‘Then here’s to an unmarried Jeanie Lochlan,’ Jeanie told her. ‘Here’s to just me and that’s how it should be. I’m on my own and I’m not looking back.’