Grace in Thine Eyes (42 page)

“I care not what you think of me,” Somerled began. “Any names you call me are well deserved. But I’ll not have you thinking ill of your daughter, Mr. McKie. She is in no way to blame for her ruined state. I am.”

“Hech!” Sir Harry said, a rude sound in a quiet room. “ ’Tis as her brother said: No one sins alone. Who is to say the lass did not entice you?”

“Miss McKie knows differently. And I know differently.” Somerled pushed the sketchbook into her father’s hands. “After I took … That is, the following afternoon these are the questions she asked of me.”

Jamie scanned the page, blinking hard, as if he could not believe what was written there. “ ‘Why did you not stop …’ ‘Did you intend to hurt …’ Davina, did this man … did he
violate
you?”

Somerled knew she would turn to him, and she did. Searching his face. Wanting to be sure. “Miss McKie, I am grateful you accepted my offer of marriage. But your family must know the terrible truth of how it started. Please answer your father’s question.”

Davina took a deep breath and nodded.

“Nae!” Jamie shoved his chair behind him and stormed round the table, his sons close on his heels, all of them shouting.

Somerled stood, unafraid. He was strong enough to take their blows.

Then Davina leaped to her feet, arms spread, blocking their advance.

“Lass, whatever are you …”

She pressed her back against his chest and would not budge. A wee fairy of a shield, protecting him.

“Davina!” her father roared. “Has this man bewitched you, that you defend him?”

She firmly shook her head, then pressed her hand against her heart and held it out as a gift.

Somerled was undone.
My beloved, my bride
.

“You
cannot
forgive such a crime!” Her father’s expression was utter anguish.

Sir Harry answered for her. “ ’Twould seem that she has, McKie.”

“How is that possible?” Her father’s voice was strained to the point of breaking. “He … 
defiled
you, Davina. Can you truly want him for a husband?”

Her crown of red braids slowly bobbed up and down. Somerled did not need to see her eyes to know what he would find there.
Aye. I do
.

Jamie McKie and his sons saw her answer as well and backed away, though their faces remained stony, their hands clenched.

“You’ve raised quite a daughter, McKie.” Sir Harry eased into his chair. “Far better than my son deserves.”

Somerled would not dispute that for a moment. “My offer still stands, sir. Whatever bride price you ask, I will gladly pay. This is the woman I love and will have as my wife.”

“We’ll see about that, MacDonald.” Her father glowered at him, then retreated with his sons to the far corner, where they huddled in a tight circle, dark heads bowed.

As the trio murmured among themselves, Somerled whispered in her ear, “I believe your family is coming round.” Though he could not hear their words, the intent expressions on their faces gave him cause for hope. Better a conversation than a brawl.

When the McKie men finally resumed their seats, their private discussion over, Somerled and Davina sat down as well, inching closer together before she retrieved her sketchbook. To think she had stood up to her father on his behalf. Had he ever known a braver woman?

After much clearing of throats and scraping of chairs, Will was the first to speak, though he waited for a nod from Jamie first. “Whatever our sister’s wishes may be, MacDonald, we cannot simply give her to a man who stole her virtue and disgraced our family name.”

“Will—”

“Please, Father. We agreed on this.” Will looked round the table, his expression resolute. “ ’Tis not ready silver our family needs but an assurance that our sister will be provided for, since she may even now bear the MacDonald heir.”

A hush fell across the room. Was that still a possibility? Somerled stole a glance at her. Aye, judging by the faint blush on her cheek.

Will continued, “Why not bestow on Davina the right to inherit your income and property now, at your betrothal? ’Twill not cost you any silver yet guarantees the welfare of your son from this day forth.”

Somerled eyed the men at the table, his father in particular. The plan was a sound one. What if, when he and Sir Harry sailed home to Argyll, their boat sank in a storm? Would he not want to provide for Davina? And for their son, if his seed had already taken root?

“What do you make of it, Father?” Somerled turned to the head of the table. “Is it not a reasonable request? After all, it will cost us nothing. Unless we die.” He shrugged. “And then we’ll not mind so much, eh?”

Sandy took up the cause. “We are only asking that she be protected by your name and fortune sooner rather than later.” He folded his arms across his chest. “If you refuse, we’ll take our sister home at once.”

“
I
will take her home,” Jamie admonished him. “My sons have well stated our terms. What is your decision, MacDonald?”

Sir Harry nodded his silvery head. “ ’Tis fair. The duke’s steward, Lewis Hunter, can easily draw up such a letter of intent, allowing a certain annuity for my wife.” He looked at Davina with begrudging respect. “Miss McKie, it appears you’ve stolen my son’s heart and my holdings without a single word. My hat is off to you and to your family.”

“And so is mine.” Somerled pushed back his chair, mystified by how the negotiations had proceeded. Could the McKies be satisfied with so paltry a bride price—nothing more than paper? Lest they change their minds and demand further satisfaction, he’d not tarry in fulfilling their request. “Father, we must see the agreement penned this very morning.”

“Aye, ’tis best not to delay such matters.” Sir Harry grunted as he rose, then settled his gaze on Somerled. “We will sign away our land and silver. And pray good fortune attends us.”

Sixty-One

Who thinks that fortune cannot change her mind,
Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind.
A
LEXANDER
P
OPE

A
s Sir Harry took his leave, Davina rested her hand on Somerled’s arm.
Don’t go
.

He gazed down at her, the row of brass buttons on his coat catching the light. “What is it, milady?”

She heard the confidence in his voice, saw the assurance in his blue eyes. If only she might follow him down the castle stair, rather than face her father and brothers, whose brooding countenances could not be ignored. Somerled did not know them as she did. The McKie men were far from appeased, no matter what bargain had been struck.

Anxious for some reason to detain him, Davina wrote across the sketchbook page.
What of tonight?

“I shall ask His Grace to include your family at his table.” Somerled’s expression softened as he added, “Practice your Gow tunes, Miss McKie. I’ve arranged a surprise for you.” He bowed, then wisely kissed her hand rather than her cheek; the slightest provocation, and her brothers would surely bolt from their chairs and wrestle him to the floor. “I will count the minutes ’til I see you again,” he promised, then was gone.

The sound of the iron latch falling into place echoed across the silent room. Davina stared at the door, her vision clouding.
I will count them as well
.

“Davina, look at me.” Her father was beside her now. Kneeling. “You do not have to marry him.”

Oh, Father
. He’d misconstrued her tears. She turned to her sketchbook and started to underline what she’d written earlier—
My heart and my body belong
—but he stopped her pencil.

“That is not true,” he said, the strain in his voice evident. “Until you are wed, Davina, you belong to me. It is my responsibility to care for you—”

“And ours to protect you,” Sandy insisted. “I cannot fathom what poor Mother will think when she learns what this miscreant did to you.”

Hampered by her father’s grasp, Davina could not write and so stamped her foot in protest.
I have forgiven him
. But she could not expect that her family would do the same.

“We shall weather the scandal in Monnigaff,” Father said, releasing her hand, “and raise MacDonald’s bairn, if it comes to that. But I’ll not see you married to a brute.”

Davina quickly reclaimed her pencil to respond.
Father, I have made a vow—

“Vows can be unmade.” Jamie rose from his knees and began to pace the room, ignoring the rest of her written declaration. “We shall depart for the mainland this very afternoon.”

Depart? Her heart leaped into her throat. Did he mean to abscond with her? Somerled would never allow it, nor would she.

“Why wait?” Will countered. “Escort Davina to the harbor this morning. When the MacDonalds reappear, Sandy and I will bid them good riddance, then sail for Saltcoats.” He leaned across the table, his dark eyes snapping. “Leave at once, Father. Before the Highlander returns and convinces our sister otherwise.”

Jamie eyed the door. “You may be right, lad. He has her quite spellbound.”

Och!
Determined to be heard, Davina wrote across the page in letters too large to ignore.
I accepted Somerled’s proposal of marriage willingly
.

“There! Do you see, Father?” Will’s face was ruddy with rage. “MacDonald has stolen more than Davina’s virtue. He has robbed her of all reason as well.”

Nae!
She stamped her foot, then pushed her sketchbook at them, pointing to her last word.
Willingly
. Even if that was not so at first, it was now.

The twins bristled but held their tongues, staring at the irrefutable truth.

“All right, lass, all right.” Her father’s sigh was heavy, a fitting punctuation. “You have accepted his proposal, and the MacDonalds have agreed to our terms. I suppose if honor is to be served—”

“Honor?”

“He
debased
her, Father!”

Jamie ignored his sons. “Given the unfortunate circumstances, perhaps a wedding is inevitable.”

Davina’s racing pulse began to slow.
Aye, ’tis
.

“We shall pocket their letter of agreement,” Jamie finally said, “and tarry until Wednesday afternoon. That is when His Grace sails for the mainland and the MacDonalds take their leave.” He shrugged, his face filled with resignation. “Who can say? Three days spent together at table and at sport may blunt our fury toward these Highlanders.”

Will snorted. “My anger will burn far longer than that.”

“Aye, and so will mine.” Sandy’s features were sharp as razors.

Davina cringed at their harsh words. Clearly the twins had no mercy for the man who’d ravished her. But might their father come round, as Somerled had said? She slowly closed her sketchbook and pressed it to her heart.
Please forgive him, Father
.

Jamie stood before her, his broad shoulders sagging as if sensing what she was asking of him. “Give me a moment with your sister, lads.”

Davina’s throat tightened. After such a morning, her courage was waning.
Remember me, I pray thee, and strengthen me
.

Her father waited until Will and Sandy were halfway down the stair before he spoke again, his voice raw with emotion. “Davina, had I known from the first … had I realized that this man … that he …”

Jamie looked away but not before she saw the tears in his eyes.

Nae, Father
. Her fingers tightened round the frayed edges of her sketchbook, her nails digging into the cloth.
Please, I cannot bear it
.

“The thought of him hurting you … forcing you …” His words dissolved into a groan as he pulled her into his arms.

Davina collapsed against him.
I did not know … Oh, Father, I did not understand
.

He nearly crushed her in his embrace, whispering ragged phrases in her ear. “Forgive me. For bringing you here. Abandoning you here.”

She tried to shake her head.
’Tis not your fault. I wanted to come
.

“Nae, Davina.” His voice was taut with pain. “Do not excuse me so easily.”

She pressed her sketchbook to his heart and her wet cheek against it.
But I must
.

They remained there, father and daughter, with only the sandstone walls to witness their grief. For all that was lost and could never be regained.

After many minutes, her father released her with a tender kiss to her brow. “I see forgiveness in your eyes, Davina, though I hardly deserve it.” When she started to protest, his answer was firm. “This would never have happened had you spent the summer at home. Your brothers are right to be furious with Somerled. And with me.” He glanced toward the door. “I will see what can be done to change their minds, though you ken the twins: slow in mercy and plenteous in anger …”

As his voice trailed off, he touched her elbow and guided her toward the stair. “Perhaps this evening’s music will temper their wrath.” Even though he smiled, the sadness never left his eyes. “Yet I fear ’twill take more than a few merry tunes to convince your brothers this Highlander is worthy of you.”

Sixty-Two

No man likes to be surpassed by those of his own level.
T
ITUS
L
IVY

D
avina gripped her fiddle, praying for a miracle. Candlelight within and daylight without illumined the room where she’d dined with a dozen gentlemen. How extraordinary to find three dear faces among them.
Father. Will. Sandy
. She missed her mother and Ian all the more, having some but not all of her family present.

The Duke of Hamilton had made the McKies welcome at his table, introducing them to his guests, announcing the betrothal, and praising Davina’s talents. His flattery had pleased her father but incensed her brothers, who’d grumbled about their sister being forced into the role of an entertainer. Her father, engaged in conversation with Sir Harry, had eaten little of the roast grouse; her brothers had eaten much and barely spoken, least of all with Somerled.