Fair Is the Rose (26 page)

When Willie arrived to escort her home, Rose said good-bye to Jane in the parlor, grateful her friend did not spy the common chaise at the foot of the vennel. Next to the Griersons’ ebony coach-and-four, the two-wheeled carriage from Auchengray was a sorry conveyance. “ ’Tis only three days, Jane, but it feels like ’twill be a lifetime until I see you again.”

“You
are
a silly girl, Rose McBride.” Jane grasped her hands and squeezed tight, blinking hard. “I will be here Monday, and so will you.”

Rose lowered her voice and tried hard to sound stern. “And you’ll keep your head dry and your lungs moist?”

“Yes, mem. Round the clock.” Jane tipped her head, a wistful expression on her face. “I’m glad to have met you, Rose. What you did yestreen was very brave, and all because you wanted us to be friends again.”

“Aye.” Rose dropped her chin. “Though it nearly turned out quite the opposite.”

“That’s not so.” Jane pressed her cheek to Rose’s and whispered in her ear, “
Nous serons toujours amies
. We will be friends always.” They stood very still for a moment before stepping apart, both of them smiling through their tears. Jane touched a sleeve to the corner of her eye. “Wait until Mr. James McKie sees what a month of polishing and refinement has done for his fair, young Rose.”

Rose turned toward the looking glass hanging near the door for a swift appraisal. “Do you think Jamie will notice a difference?”

Jane’s laugh was low and raspy. “The man will be hard pressed to notice anything else.”

Twenty-Eight

Be to her virtues very kind;
Be to her faults a little blind.

M
ATTHEW
P
RIOR

J
amie, she’s here.”

He looked up from his reading to find Leana standing in their bedroom doorway, her hands clutching her skirts. The note of distress in her voice was unmistakable. He rose and joined her at once,
Gulliver’s Travels
forgotten. “Come, we’ll greet your sister together.” Taking her hand in his, he led her into the hall, keeping his voice down. “You have no need for concern, Leana. ’Tis you whom I married. Remember that.”

Rose’s musical laughter carried through the house. They soon found her in the front parlor. At first Jamie could see only the feathers of her high-crowned bonnet encircled by various members of the household, all crowding round her, welcoming her as though she’d been gone twelve months instead of one.

“Jamie!” Rose spun toward him, giving him her complete attention. She swept the servants aside and curtsied, bending to the floor like a seasoned courtier. “
Bonjour, monsieur.
”

Hiding his amusement, Jamie matched his bow to hers, brushing his hand across the carpet. “
Bonjour, mademoiselle. Pourrais-je vous présenter ma femme, Léana.
”

Rose smiled and glided toward them. “I know your wife very well.” She embraced Leana briefly, as one might greet a neighbor, not a sister. “
Enchantée.
”

“Whatever are you two saying?” Leana scolded them, smiling. “You’ll have us all scratching our heads.”

Rose stepped back, folding her hands at her waist. “Fear not, Leana.
Naught but ‘good afternoon’ and ‘may I present my wife.’ Phrases one learns in a first lesson. Within minutes I will have exhausted my entire French vocabulary, ’Tis so meager.”

“Nae, ’Tis impressive,” Leana said smoothly. If she felt overshadowed by her sister, neither her manner nor tone revealed it.

Jamie marveled at them both. If only he and his brother, Evan, could have behaved so civilly. Seldom were the men in the same room without jabbing at each other with sharp words, if not swords. Though by the time Jamie had fled from Glentrool, Evan had good cause for his anger: With their mother’s help, Jamie had tricked their father into giving him Evan’s inheritance. Little wonder Rowena McKie didn’t urge her younger son to return to Glentrool just yet.
Soon, Mother
.

“I was told dinner will be served shortly.” Rose waved toward the stair, her hand mimicking a swallow in flight. “If I might take a moment to attend to my
toilette
before I greet Father.”

“Of course.” Leana stepped aside as her sister swept past her. “Jamie, I must see to Ian’s dinner before our own.”

He turned and met his wife’s troubled gaze, chastising himself for watching Rose even for a moment. “Your sister is home for three short days,” he reminded her. “I intend to stay busy and out of harm’s way. By Monday afternoon life at Auchengray will be as it was before your sister waltzed through the door.”

Leana’s voice fell to a whisper. “I will try not to count the hours.”

Jamie circled his arms round her and held her for a moment. “You worry too much, lass. She is still a child, nine years my junior. More polished, aye, and armed with a few social graces. But Rose is not the woman I married, nor is she the mother of my son. You are both those and loved besides.” He kissed her brow. “Off you go to feed that ravenous offspring of ours. I’ll be waiting for you at table.”

He’d forgotten how much attention Rose required; the dinner hour soon reminded him. She kept up a steady narrative of events from the last four weeks, not seeming to notice her father’s glowering expression. Lachlan McBride preferred to eat in silence, a practice Rose disregarded as she skipped from one tale to the next like a child eager to show off
her birthday presents. Jane Grierson, an older girl she’d mentioned in her last letter, figured prominently in the various stories, though Jamie sensed there was more to be told than Rose was willing to share.

“So, Jamie.” She fixed her gaze on him. “What have you been doing all month?”

He shrugged, feigning indifference. “Mending the dry stane dykes. Tending the ewes. Loving my wife.” He had meant to surprise her; the look on her face told him he’d succeeded. “Leana and I spent a midwinter’s eve at Glensone.” Jamie smiled at Leana, making sure his love for her was evident and undeniable. When he turned back to Rose, he recomposed his features into a bland mask. “Peter Drummond inquired about you.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Peter?”

Jamie looked toward the head of the table, ignoring her response. “What say you, Uncle, to a visit from our neighbor, young Mr. Drummond? We discussed Saturday at four o’ the clock when he and I last spoke.”

“
Och!
” Lachlan spat out the word. “ ’Tis a fine time to include the girl’s father in such a discussion. Drummond should have come to me first.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed, “Peter ought to have done that verra thing. ’Twas a request made in passing. He meant no disrespect.” Jamie watched his words bank the heated coals of the man’s ire. Rose might not be so easily appeased.

As expected, she cornered him in the hall after the final grace was spoken over the meat. The girl was flushed, almost feverish, and her tongue was sharp. “Jamie, what swickerie is this, pairing me with Peter Drummond?”

“The pairing is not mine,” he said evenly. “Peter merely asked if he might call on you. You’d be wise to see what the lad has to offer, Rose.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I have no wish to be Peter’s wife.”

“Then choose another, Rose, for I am blithely wed.” Instinctively he stepped back. “See that you treat Drummond with the respect he deserves. I’ll not stand by and watch another neighbor humiliated.”

He left her there alone in the hall while he sought the quiet sanctuary
of the byre. Though she was still as bonny as ever, Rose had changed. And so, please God, had he.

When light appeared in the eastern sky Saturday morning, Jamie was already busy in the farm steading cleaning his shears. Work—hard, grimy labor—would keep his family foremost in his thoughts and Rose far from his side.

Dinner came and went without him, though his absence was noted. Duncan came looking for him in the barn. “Ye were missed at table,” he said, kicking the mud off his boots.

Jamie dragged an oil-soaked rag across the blades. “Not hungry.”

Duncan grunted. “ ’Tis three o’ the clock, lad. Have ye not invited Peter Drummond tae pay a call on Rose?”

“The lad invited himself. Anyway, my uncle can handle things.”

Duncan folded his arms across his chest. “Lachlan McBride is not the one wha bade him come.”

“Speak plainly, man.” Jamie tossed aside the shears. “You’re here for a reason, and it’s not Peter Drummond.”

“Nae.” A grin stretched across Duncan’s face. “I niver can
swick
ye, Jamie. ’Tis aboot Rose.”

Jamie shook his head.
Rose, always Rose
. “I suppose she sent you to find me.”

“She did not.” His smile faded. “My faither once said if the de’il finds an idle man, he sets him tae work.” Duncan stared at the freshly sharpened shears, the neat stacks of grain, letting the words sink in. “I’m here because a married man skipped a meal tae avoid a maid.”

Heat climbed up Jamie’s neck. “And?”

“Ye ken what the Buik says: ‘Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.’ Are ye prayin’, Jamie? Because ye can be verra sure that I am. There’s meikle at stake here—”

“I ken what’s at stake!” Jamie snapped, irritated at Duncan’s suggestion. “You’ve seen how it is with Leana and me. There’s no need to fear I’ll go chasing after Rose McBride again.”

Duncan clapped his hand on Jamie’s shoulder; his fierce gaze fixed
on him as well. “Glad tae hear ye say it, lad. Come make Drummond feel welcome then. Offer yer blissin on their courtin’. Let Rose see ye happy for her.” He lowered his voice but not his conviction. “ ’Tis time Rose got on wi’ her life and ye wi’ yers.”

“You’ll get no
argle-bargle
from me on that.” Jamie rubbed his hand across his beard. “If I’m to greet Mr. Drummond at four, tell Hugh I’ll need his razor.”

“Done.” Duncan released his grip with a smile of satisfaction, then headed toward the mains.

Mindful of the hour, Jamie quickly finished cleaning the last of his shears. The tools wouldn’t be needed until June, but once the lambing started in late March, there’d be no time for such chores. By the time Jamie reached the house, Hugh was waiting for him in his bedroom. So was Leana.

She drew him aside while Hugh sharpened his razor on a strop. “Jamie, I’m not certain Rose should see Mr. Drummond today.”

He groaned. “Don’t tell me the lass has refused him already.”

“Jamie, the problem is not Peter. ’Tis Rose. She’s not looking well. If you’d joined us for dinner earlier, you’d have discovered that for yourself.”

A female voice floated in from the hall. “Discovered what?”

They both turned to find Rose standing outside the doorway, looking a bit unsteady on her feet. Leana clasped her sister’s hand and eased her into the room. “Discovered
you
, dearie. How tired you look. Feverish.” With her free hand, Leana touched Rose’s forehead. “Ah. Warm but not hot.”

“Nothing to worry about then.” Rose smiled, though not with her whole face. “I … we missed you at dinner, Jamie.”

His shoulders sank. “Clearly I cannot miss a meal in this house again, or I’ll ne’er hear the end of it. Forgive me, ladies. As Duncan would say, I have meikle to do and few to do for me.” Pausing to study Rose’s face, he noticed the faint smudges beneath her eyes. She
did
look tired. “Suppose I tell Mr. Drummond to come calling another day. Would that suit you, lass?”

She exhaled, and a genuine smile decorated her face. “ ’twould be
ferlie
. You’re so kind, Jamie.”

Kind
. Kindness had nothing to do with it. He was being selfish, not sensitive, for he wanted Drummond to see Rose at her best and proceed with his suit.

Leana circled her arm round Rose’s waist. “Suppose I take Rose down to the kitchen for a cup of tea with honey. ’Twould help her throat.”

The women had no sooner started down the hall when Hugh cleared his throat behind him. “Will ye be needin’ yer shave, sir?”

Jamie turned to find Hugh holding a steaming towel in one hand, a gleaming razor in the other. “Foolish of me to waste the hot water. By all means, man, do your duty.” Grateful for the servant’s ministrations and a few minutes of uncluttered thought, Jamie sank into the chair and tipped his head back, exhausted.

Leana found him that way an hour later and woke him with an unhurried kiss on each smooth cheek. “Poor man,” she said affectionately, running her fingers through his unbound hair. “Hugh said you fell asleep like a taper that’s been snuffed out.”

Jamie sat up, groggy and disoriented, rubbing the stiffness in his neck. The room was shrouded in darkness, with only a flickering candle to light their faces. “Whatever can the time be?”

“ ’Tis nearing the supper hour.”

“Och! What of Peter Drummond?”

“Come and gone. Father explained that Rose was too ill to see visitors today. She’s taken to her bed.”

Jamie straightened, suddenly alert. “Is she worse then?”

“Aye.” Leana’s pale eyes shone in the candlelight. “She says her throat aches too much to think of eating supper. I’m hardly a doctor, but the glands along her neck feel swollen.”

A sense of urgency launched him to his feet. “Should I ride to Dumfries for a surgeon?”

“Goodness, Jamie! ’Tis not so bad as that. Naught but the common cold, though you can be certain I’ll watch her carefully.”

He began to pace the floor. “Was it the carriage ride home, do you suppose? The weather has been dreadful all week. Was she out of doors at all?”

“Calm yourself.” Leana caught his elbow. “Rose hasn’t mentioned any particular reason why she might be sick, though she says not to worry. Come look for yourself.” Leana led him down the hall to the room she and Rose had once shared and tapped on the door. “May we come in, dearie?”

A single candle stood by the box bed, where Rose sat propped up with pillows. Her cheeks looked flushed but no pinker than if she’d skipped across the orchard. Relieved, Jamie smiled.

“Do you always greet sick people with such a jolly face?” Her voice sounded thin with a worrisome rasp.

“Better a smile than a frown,” he said lightly, clasping his hands behind his back lest he touch her by mistake. He couldn’t recall ever seeing Rose so quiet, so subdued. Her newfound confidence was nowhere to be seen.