by Joyce Armor
Sophie’s face remained blank. And so much for bridging that gap of understanding. Och!
“Ainsley,” he growled, and then looked at Sophie. “I beg yer pardon for my sister’s offensive language.”
The daft woman smiled again, “No offense taken. Ainsley does not know me, so it’s only natural she would be frightened about the situation. And jealous,” she added.” She knew that would frost Ainsley’s gills.
The teen gasped. “I am nae afraid of anything. And jealous? That’s stupid, just like ye are.”
Sophie smiled, knowing it would also irritate the hell out of the young woman. “If you say so.”
Ainsley turned to her brother. “What aboot Catriona. Ye said…”
“I know what I said,” he spat out, sharper than he intended.
Now there was a very large elephant in the room, and Sophie wasn’t sure what to do. She decided to retreat, turning her back to the siblings and stirring the vegetable and potato dish. A minute later, as she started to plate it up, Ainsley headed for the door.
“I’m not hungry,” she said, shutting the door with force as she marched out.
Sophie carried the dishes to the table, her mind racing. Who was Catriona? Was he in love with her? If so, he was making an even greater sacrifice than she thought to marry her. On the other hand, if it was truly to be a marriage of convenience to be ultimately annulled, he could still have his Catriona after that. And why that thought landed like an anvil in her stomach was no mystery to Sophie. She wanted Duncan MacGibbon for herself. For always and forever. ‘Til death do us part.
They ate in a rather tense silence. Sophie knew Duncan was waiting for her to say something about Catriona, and she took an evil satisfaction in not doing it.
He shoveled the last bite of his meal into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully and set his fork down. “Verra tasty indeed,” he said. “Ye’re a fine cook, Sophie.”
“Thank you.”
All right then, Sophie was not going to make this easy. He sighed, and she looked at him with those big, innocent eyes.
“Catriona was the only woman I’ll e’er love.”
Ouch. “Was?”
“She died these seven years past, and to me everlasting shame, ‘twas me fault.”
She leaned toward him and put her hand on his. “Duncan, no. I know you. You would never intentionally harm another person.”
“Ye donnae know me at all, Sophie.”
The sound of a carriage driving up cut through that dire pronouncement and the uncomfortable atmosphere it created. What did he mean by that? It didn’t matter. She didn’t believe him anyway. He was punishing himself for something, though.
“That would be the preacher and the witness.”
Sophie got up. “Witness?”
Duncan smiled. “I was pretty fair and certain Ainsley would not oblige us.” He reached out a hand to her. Let’s go get married.”
Sophie yanked her hand back as she jumped up. “Och! You are out of your mind if you think I am getting married in this, Duncan MacGibbon.”
He looked at her pretty behind as she ran from the room. She looked fine to him, beautiful, in fact, but he supposed she would want to be married in a dress. She was a woman, after all. A captivating woman.
Sophie had sewn a lovely cream gown for her wedding to the devil, as she had begun to think of Charles Shanley. It was quite ethereal and floaty, she thought, simple and clinging in all the right places, with just enough lace to spruce it up a bit. She could hear Duncan chatting with the minister and whoever he had brought with him, yet took her time preparing herself. She planned to get married only once, despite what Duncan thought, and she would not appear until she was good and ready. As she suspected, the dress looked just as good without a corset. So there.
Carefully, she took out her braid and brushed her hair. Though she was tempted to leave it down, she ultimately decided to fashion it into a loose chignon, leaving wisps of hair hanging down her cheeks. And then she searched through her bag and found the little gray pouch with the one remembrance she had of her mother, a gold necklace with a single pearl, which she had kept in the secret compartment of her trunk, lest her guardians take it. After that, she dug out her father’s little knife and placed it in the hidden pocket of the dress. She smiled. She believed her parents would be pleased with her choice of groom. She definitely was.
As she fastened the necklace, she studied herself in the mirror. It was as good as she could do, she decided. Fortunately, her bruises from the fall she took from the horse did not show through the dress and her chemise. She was so pleased she was not wearing a corset and could not fathom a time she ever would again. She took one last look and then got up and walked out to meet her fate. Was she doing the right thing? One could never be certain, of course, yet she felt in her heart, in her very soul, she was. From this day forward, she would work to win Duncan McGibbon’s heart.
She didn’t miss the groom’s intake a breath when he saw her in her wedding gown. So, he’s not immune to me after all. The ceremony was quick and painless. She had half expected Ainsley to burst in with a shotgun, trying to halt the proceedings. It didn’t happen. The bride didn’t even remember saying “I do,” but she must have since they signed the book and made it official. When the preacher had said he could kiss the bride, Sophie’s heart sped up. Duncan leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the lips, a disappointment, to be sure. They enjoyed some biscuits and cider, and then all too soon the preacher and his wife, who had acted as the witness, took their leave.
And now Mr. and Mrs. MacGibbon were alone. There was an awkward moment of silence before Sophie finally spoke. “Why did he call you Doc?”
Duncan crossed over to the mantel and took down the rifle that was mounted over it. As they talked, he began to clean it with a rag. “I’m a doctor.”
Sophie looked stunned. “You’re a doctor?”
“Yes.”
He kept dismantling the rifle while he waited for her to have some kind of reaction—shock, disappointment, disapproval. Again, she surprised him.
“Oh. Well, that might come in handy.”
He couldn’t think of a response to that.
“And it explains why you were so good with my blisters. I can tell you’re a very good doctor.”
Duncan set the rifle down. “You are nae upset that I dinnae tell ye I was a physician?”
“We have a great deal to learn about each other, Duncan.” She hesitated a moment and then added, “I can juggle lemons.” She reached behind her back and started to unfasten her beautiful wedding gown as she talked, and he found himself spellbound. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Several moments went by as Duncan struggled to get his mind back on task. Then he remembered her question. “No reason that I can think of. It just dinnae come up. Mayhaps I dinnae want ye to be friendly because of it.”
She thought about that as she continued to unbutton the gown.
It was such a simple act, yet Duncan could feel his heart pounding as he watched her absentmindedly fiddling with the buttons. He wanted to jump up and just rip those things off, exposing her creamy back and shoulders. This would not do. What was he thinking? He would never betray Catriona. Although, his lusty mind interjected, exercising your conjugal rights without engaging your heart would nae be a betrayal. But then an annulment would be impossible.
Abruptly Sophie turned, exposing some of that creamy back he’d been fantasizing about. Over her shoulder, she said, “I’m going to change into something more appropriate. I have work to do. Have a good day, Duncan.”
She disappeared into his bedroom, and it took all his strength not to follow her. He had to get a grip on his wayward thoughts. And his wayward body parts. Especially his wayward body parts. He pulled down a medical book he had left on the mantel and started researching stomach cancer, although he had already done that multiple times. Try as he might, he could not get himself to concentrate. His thoughts kept traveling to his nubile wife.
Now that he and Sophie were married, he finally decided, everything could go on as it had before. She could move into the loft, he would get his bedroom back and stop thinking of her in it in whatever flimsy nightgown she wore at bedtime and life would go on. He picked up the rifle and placed it back on the brackets over the mantle. He left the book on the dining table.
Looking toward his closed bedroom door, he sighed. He supposed he had better go find Ainsley and try to reason with her. Och! Like that e’er worked. He had an idea where she had gone, across the valley to the picturesque knoll and the grave of Uncle Conall, who always had a way of making everyone around him sore glad, even if he was a lazy old reprobate.
* * *
She was crying, and Ainsley never cried. Duncan’s mind raced as he thought back to when Uncle Conall succumbed to typhus. No, Ainsley hadn’t even cried then. His heart hurt for her. She was so young in many ways and grown up beyond her years in others. He had thought about sending or taking her back when she first arrived. Finally he had decided that if e’er there was a girl who did not belong in boarding school, it was his bonny sister. She was born to thrive outside and had taken to the ranch like she had always been here. He wanted every happiness for Ainsley, eventually a husband and family, but she would have to find someone of her own choosing, a mon who would accept her for the brazen, outspoken, often outrageous and exasperating and loving woman she was becoming.
“Why, Duncan, why?”
He watched as she angrily pulled weeds around the grave marker.
“She needs me protection, Ainsley. Charles Shanley lured her out here to be one of his whores. She thought he was going to marry her.”
“Ye could have just sent her away. Or sent her back.”
“She said she cannae go back. What if it were ye, Ainsley? Would I want someone to send ye out alone, into the world, with no protection?”
“What aboot Catriona?” the girl said stubbornly.
Duncan sighed as he plopped down next to her. “Wheesht, Catriona is gone these seven years. Should I be alone forever then, Ainsley? E’en if I had proclaimed that once.”
He did have the intention of never engaging his heart again, but Ainsley did not need to know that.
“Nay, but her? She’s nae a rancher. She’s nae a nurse. What good is she?”
He smiled. “She’s a good person, Sophie is. Just give her a chance. Did ye think ye would have yer brother alone for eternity, did ye?”
Though Ainsley rolled her eyes, she didn’t say anything. That was as good as he could expect. He squeezed her shoulder, then pushed himself up off the ground and helped her up. “Conall was a braw man, aye? He brought some life to the old homestead. Mayhaps Sophie will do the same.”
“I would nae e’en be here ‘twere nae for him,” his sister said dolefully.
“Aye, he helped ye run away, dinnae he?”
“Not quite. He followed me to the ship. Ye know Papa was going to send me away to…boarding school.”
She made the last two words sound like an obscenity.
He smiled. “Aye, a terrible crime.”
She punched his arm. “’Twas.”
“Well, now that Sophie is here, mayhaps she can help ye with yer schooling. She is verra well-read.”
“Over my dead body,” Ainsley spat out. She marched off ahead of him, ready to do battle with Sophie, no doubt.
He had to laugh, though ‘twas nae a joyful laugh. Och, is life e’er easy?
Duncan walked back to the stable to saddle up. He had rounds to make. He could only hope Ainsley and Sophie would nae kill each other whilst he was gone.
* * *
Before Sophie went to the barn to see what needed to be done, she sat down at the dining table to write a quick letter to her cousins. She had promised Lindy she would let her know as soon as she arrived in Stonehaven and had been remiss.
Dearest Lindy and Per,
I have so much to tell you and will write again when I have more time. I did arrive safely in Nebraska and I am married, but not to Charles Shanley. The man lied about everything. He owns a bordello and abuses women. He did not want a wife but another woman to force into prostitution.
Let mine be a cautionary tale, although it ends well. I married Duncan MacGibbon, a handsome Scottish highlander who owns a ranch and is also a doctor. He saved me from a fate I can only imagine and is my hero. His sister hates me. Och, well, I’ve always loved a challenge, haven’t I?
Write to me soon and let me know your plans. Leaving Pennsylvania was the right decision for me.
Love,
Sophie
She wasn’t about to tell her cousins that her husband did not love her and most likely never would. Even though she knew her admiration for him was already teetering on the edge of love, for now it was enough that he was kind and caring. It beat her former living arrangement by a mile and joining up with Charles Shanley by much farther than that.
She caught Duncan before he left on his rounds, and he promised to mail her letter.
* * *
Smack! The vicious backhanded slap split Carrie’s lip and sent her careening into the wall. Grabbing out to support herself, she knocked over a ceramic lamp, which crashed to the floor, shattering. The only crime she had committed was being too near Charles Shanley when he got the news that Sophronia Wheelright had married the Scottish doctor. He had missed recovering the chit by one day. One lousy day. It wasn’t that he had lost out on one more whore for his stable, and a prized virginal one at that. It was that nobody thwarted Charles Shanley. Nobody bested him. She would be in his stable of painted women; he would see to it. As for the good doctor, he would have to die.
“Go get yourself cleaned up,” the boss ordered his strumpet calmly, as if they had just taken a stroll down the boulevard. And then send Lucy up to clean up this mess. A new lamp will come out of your pay.”
Like there was anything left of her meager earnings after he charged the women for room and board.
He strode past her and out the door. She straightened the bodice on her low-cut, green satin gown and brought a hand to her lip. Yes, it was bleeding. Was it really only two years since she had traveled from Indiana to become Charles Shanley’s bride? He somehow lured women with strained or no family connections, women no one would miss. If only she had the courage to stab him in the back as he walked by. If only she had the strength and fortitude to leave. She remembered Katy then. She had tried to leave and disappeared instead. If only…sure. Hell was paved with “if onlies.”
While Duncan MacGibbon was making his rounds in town and on the area farms and ranches, Charles Shanley was fashioning plans for his demise. Later in the day, then, the bordello owner was shocked to look out the window and see the doctor reining in in front of his establishment. He smirked. Not even married 24 hours and the man was already seeking outside entertainment.
The pimp was even more surprised when he was told MacGibbon had asked for him. He kept him waiting for 20 minutes, just to engender a little insecurity in the man, and then met him in the parlor, which to his way of thinking was elegant and very impressive. Duncan found it gaudy and tasteless. And he looked anything but insecure.
“To what do I owe this honor, Dr. MacGibbon?” He didn’t know why this man made him so uncomfortable. Charles Shanley isn’t afraid of anyone, he kept telling himself. He could get rid of anyone if he wanted to.
Duncan looked at the monster who would have debauched and humiliated Sophie. He had ne’er seen him up close. He was not a big man, six or seven inches shorter than the Scotsman. While dressed impeccably in a tailored black waistcoat and trousers, the chain to an expensive pocket watch crossing his black vest, he was pale. No doubt he had ne’er done a day’s physical labor in his life. His face was rather pointy, sharp and angular, although he was not a bad-looking fellow. If you didnae count his eyes. It was those eyes that put Duncan off the most. They were empty. Och, he should have known that already.
“’Tis certain, I am, that ye
know I married Sophie Wheelright today.”
Shanley seethed, barely concealing his anger. “So I heard.”
Duncan pulled out a pouch out of his pocket, handing it to Shanley. “’Tis what ye sent Sophie and more. I expect ye to leave us alone.”
Shanley tossed the pouch onto a table. “Well, isn’t that special? Thank you, Doctor.”
“I’ll be needing a receipt,” Duncan said.
Shanley said nothing, but his demeanor spoke volumes. He was furious. He snatched up the pouch, poured the contents on his desk and quickly counted it. He grabbed a piece of expensive-looking paper and quill on the desk, dipped the quill in an inkwell and scratched out a receipt. He thrust it at Duncan. “We’re done here.”
Duncan folded the receipt and put it in his vest pocket. “Aye, we are, and that’s a fact.”
He turned and walked out, half expecting Shanley to shoot him in the back. There was no mistaking the man’s animosity, no matter how hard he tried to disguise it. Duncan needed to warn Sophie and Ainsley to be on guard. Charles Shanley might think he had the upper hand, but he had no idea what he was up against—a determined, savvy and motivated highlander.
Chapter 4
Sophie was cleaning up the evening supper dishes. Ainsley had gone to the stables after saying about two words at the meal, obviously still not making peace with the happy nuptials. Duncan sat polishing his boots by the fireplace. When she put the last dish away, Sophie joined him in the front room, sitting across from him, on the other side of the hearth. She picked up an item from a basket near the fireplace and began sewing. She felt so comfortable here in a way she never had in her previous home. The abode was humble in comparison yet so much warmer, literally as far as her attic room went and perhaps spiritually, as this cabin soothed her soul.
She glanced at her husband, so focused on those boots. Or was he just trying to avoid conversation with her? This marriage business was trickier than she thought. And then something occurred to her.
