Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (32 page)

"Ye will make me a fine wife."

A strange thing to say. "What do ye mean by that, William?"

"Do not worry yourself, Shona. I will take care of everything."

“Everything?''

"I will take care of ye, make certain no one laughs at your expense. People can be cruel."

He'd make certain no one laughed at her? He made her sound like a half-wit, like a one-eyed beggar. And by the by, she had never laughed at them, either, much less at someone with a couple of bruises on her face. It was a cut, for God's sake. A few stitches. She'd had worse embroidery accidents.

"Aye. We will get on fine," he said, and for the first time, she wondered if it were glee she saw in his eyes—if he was happy she had been hurt. Doubt niggled in her mind. Mayhap her injury was much worse than she thought. Mayhap she would never be pretty again. Mayhap no man would want her. But in a moment, she remembered Dugald's touch. There had been no pity in his eyes, no revulsion, no glee.

"Nay." She said the word softly.

"Your pardon?"

"Nay, I will not make ye a fine wife."

He smiled. "Ye worry too much. I never planned to marry ye for your beauty."

"Why did ye plan to marry me?"

He shrugged as he dropped her chin and turned away. "Your house and mine combined. We will be invincible."

"Who are we trying to vince?"

He laughed at her wit. "I can hardly blame your father for spoiling ye."

Spoiling her! It could very well be that she didn't like this man at all.

"In fact, tis certain I will spoil ye myself."

"I dunna think so."

He smiled sympathetically into her eyes. “Ye are taking the loss of your beauty too hard. Do not worry so. But for now you'd best get to bed, my dear. Rest. I will take care of the wedding arrangements," he said and turned away.

"Nay, William, ye willna."

He turned slowly toward him, his expression unreadable and his posture stiff. "What say ye?"

"Tis sorry I am, but I canna marry ye, William."

He said nothing, but watched her in tense silence for a moment. "Might I ask why?"

"I..." She searched for words she thought she'd already planned. "I simply canna."

"We already announced our intentions." The words were terse, though he forced a smile.

"Again I say, I am sorry."

"1 would have the truth, Shona. Is it because of another man? Is it because of the foreigner?"

"Dugald?" she said. The name came out breathy with surprise. "Dugald of Kinnaird?"

His gaze was very steady on hers. "I think I have a right to know the truth."

Aye. He had a right to know the truth. But what man wanted to hear that his fiancee longed for another, could not forget his touch, could do naught but yearn for it again? If she knew men, and she did, that was something they would frown upon. Certainly a tender lie would be kinder.

"Is it the foreigner?" he asked again.

"Nay." The denial came out quickly, perhaps too quickly. She bit her lip. "In all honesty, William, I dunna even like him."

He took a step toward her. "I have reason to believe that Stanford was right," he said. "Twas Kinnaird that caused your disfigurement."

Disfigurement! She was getting tired of that word, but it brought her sharply back to reality.

"That is just the point, William," she said, touching her cheek. "I canna ask any man to marry me now."

"I told ye—"

"But I see pity in your eyes," she interrupted. "I dunna want pity from the man I marry. Surely ye can understand that."

"What do ye want from a husband, Shona?" he growled. "Someone to bow and scrape when ye enter the room?"

She drew back at his sharp words.

"We've made a public announcement," he said, stepping forward and gripping her arm again.

"We have pledged our troth."

"I am certain the public will understand," she said. "After all, mayhap everyone knows I am spoiled and vain." She couldn't stop her words, though she knew they were petty. "Ye are lucky to be rid of me."

"Ye made a vow."

"Surely tis far better to break it now than later after the sanctity of marriage."

A light flamed in his eyes. "No woman cheats on—"

"Lady Shona?" A sharp rap echoed on the door.

Shona did not lower her gaze from William's, but held it perfectly steady, trying to read his thoughts. This was a new William, one she did not much like. “What is it, Muriel?"

"The Irishman called Liam has just arrived."

"Liam?" Despite everything, she could not still the joy that spurred through her heart.

"Aye, Lady. Your cousins said ye would wish to see him immediately."

"Who is this Liam, Shona?" William asked, his hand still on her arm.

"He is a friend."

"Ye have many friends."

"Are ye implying something, William?" she asked.

"If ye leave this room now, you'll not have another chance."

"Another chance at what?"

"At marriage."

"With ye?" she asked, "or are ye assuming every other man will be as shallow as yourself?"

His eyes narrowed. "Make your decision," he said.

"Tell my cousins I will be there immediately, Muriel," Shona called, and pulled her arm from William's grasp.

"I dunna care what ye tell your friends," she said softly. "Ye may tell them I was a shrew or that I was too disfigured to look upon. Ye can even tell them that I was not untried, for ye certainly have implied it. But no matter what lies ye spew, I will expect ye to be gone before dusk tomorrow." With that, she turned away and left him.

She would know the Irishman anywhere, Shona thought, even from the back in the middle of a crowded hall.

"Liam!" she cried, and rushed down the stairs to fly toward him.

He turned just in time to catch her in his arms and hug her to him. Close at hand, Sara and Rachel watched them and smiled.

"Ye are so late for the festivities," she said, still holding him close. "What delayed ye?"

"Nothing of consequence, lass," he assured her.

A tiny bit of peace stole into her soul, soothing her. She was united with Liam and her cousins.

All would be well.

But in a moment she felt Liam tense.

"Shona, you're shaking. What is amiss?" he asked, and pressed her to arms' length. But once there, his jaw dropped. "God's balls, lass, what the devil happened to your face?"

Blunt. Liam had always been blunt. Maybe his tactlessness should have offended her. Instead, it did the opposite, for in his eyes she saw no horror, no astonished sorrow, and suddenly her wounds did not seem so hideous.

"Have ye been riding the black bull again?"

She shook her head and laughed out loud.

"Using your embroidery needles for darts? Going down the burn in a barrel?"

"Nay."

"Then what the hell have ye done to yourself this time?"

"It wasn't her fault," Kelvin said, stepping up beside her.

Liam looked down into the boy's face. "It never is, lad. But look at ye. Ye're a good stone heavier than when I first met ye. It seems our Shona has at least been seeing to
your
care."

"Who are ye to be judging her?" Kelvin asked with anger in his voice.

Shona caught her breath. "Surely ye remember Liam. Ye met him en route to Stirling, when ye first went to meet the king," she said, catching the boy's gaze.

Kelvin blinked. She saw wariness cross his face before he raised his chin and cocked his head.

"Of course I remember. I simply dunna think such a rogue as this Irishman has the right to find fault with a lady like yourself. Especially when ye are wounded."

"Wounded!" Liam said. "It looks as if she has been offering her face for target practice."

"Damn you! I'll not have ye tormenting the lady," Stanford said, striding forward.

"Oh, shut up," Hadwin said, and reaching up from the bench where he sat, pulled the lanky man down beside him. "Have a drink." He pushed his own mug in front of the other. "And for God's sake, relax. The maid has had a hard enough time as it is."

"Tis not
my
fault," Stanford said, affronted.

"Well..." Hadwin took back the mug for another long swig, before pressing it into the other man's hands again. "Not as much as it is m—"

"Hadwin." William approached his cousin from the right. "I just received word from my sheriff.

I will have to curtail my stay here. We will need to prepare to leave."

"Tonight?"

"Immediately. Tell Pith to see to the packing."

From the corner of the hall, Dugald watched Hadwin stumble drunkenly to his feet. What had he been about to say? Stanford was not as much to blame for Shona's hardships as who?

And what of Kelvin? Had he not recognized Liam? If not, why? The lad was as clever as a snake; surely he would recognize this loud Irish rogue.

There were a thousand things afoot here—Liam's arrival, Kelvin's slippery memory, Shona's broken vows.

Dugald almost smiled. So she had sent William packing. Oh yes, Dugald knew. Though no one else had yet been informed, he had heard much of the conversation, for he had been perched just outside her shutters.

Aye, William was being forced to leave. Thus if he was the one planning the king's death, at least he would not have the help of the MacGowans.

"Ye should return to your bed, Shona," Rachel said. "Hardly are ye healed."

"Her bed?" Liam laughed. "Far be it from our Shona to need rest. I have just arrived."

"And are as likely as not to make her ill even when she has her full strength," Rachel said.

"With ye here, she—"

"Please," Shona said, lifting a hand. "Could we not have peace this day?" Rachel opened her mouth, and Liam looked as if he were sulking. “The four of us are reunited. Surely ye dunna wish to wound Dragonheart by your bickering."

Sara laughed, Rachel smiled, and Liam, looking chagrined, nodded.

"Peace, then," he said. "Might we find somewhere quiet to talk?"

Rachel glanced at Shona, her amethyst eyes unearthly bright. "The solar should be a fine place,"

she said, "empty but for William's drowned dreams, I suspect."

Dugald watched Shona turn toward her, and though he could not hear much of what she said, he clearly made out the word "eerie."

Rachel laughed, and Dugald prepared for another night of spying.

"Did William accept your change of heart with good grace?" Rachel asked.

The solar was lit with a trio of candles set on an iron candelabrum and the presence of three of the people Shona loved most in the world.

"Change of heart?" Liam asked, just closing the door behind him. "What's this?"

"Our Shona was betrothed," Sara said.

"Betrothed!" Liam looked at her aghast. "To whom?"

"To the same man she just became unbetrothed to," Rachel said. "Your hopes can remain alive, Liam."

"Well, I should think so," Liam said, turning to take Shona's hand in his own. "What's this I hear? Ye were planning to marry another?"

She smiled at him. Long ago, she had vowed to marry Liam. Twas a dream that was not to be. A modicum of maturity had told her that. Even if her parents would allow it, even if he were not entirely too much like herself to be trusted, even if he weren't a rogue and a vagabond and a wandering magician, he was not the sort to marry. He was always slightly discontented, and though he pretended otherwise, he was forever somewhat distracted, at least when he was around her.

Liam the Irishman, most people called him, as quick with his mind as he was with his fingers.

He had been a scrawny thief and a prankster in the raucous border town of Firthport when Shona's aunt had first met him. Supposedly he had been rehabilitated when Tara and Roman brought him to the Highlands, but if the truth be known, Shona doubted Liam would ever change. In his heart he was no more tamed than the wild hills they called home.

"Ye failed to ask me to marry ye, Liam," she said. "Tis a prerequisite to the wedding vows.

William thought to ask."

"William of Atberry?" he asked, his tone surprised.

"Aye, the same."

"Ye were planning to wed William of Atberry?"

Shona straightened her back. "He is of good family."

"Aye," Liam scoffed. "But so is King Henry. It does not mean that I would wed
him."

Shona scowled. "I had no idea ye were planning to marry a man atall. Besides, Henry is English, and has a rather disturbing habit of being rid of those he dislikes."

"And ye think William would be better?"

All three cousins turned toward him.

"What do ye mean by that?" Rachel asked, her tone utterly somber suddenly.

Liam shrugged. "I dunna know. It just seems that ye are close enough to the royalty already, Shona, what with your friendship to the young king. The MacGowans are not in such need of power that they would marry off their fairest flower to the old king's nephew. After the last attempt on your James's life, Lord Tremayne and the others are intent on pinning the blame on someone. It seems the further ye are from that intrigue, the better."

Shona tried not to show her tension. This entire group was known to be a bit meddlesome, while Rachel was downright spooky.

"I fear my reasons for breaking off the betrothal were less practical than that," Shona said.

"He did not worship ye as he should?" Liam asked.

His question was too similar to William's to give her comfort. She gave Liam a sneer. "He had a big nose."

Liam laughed. "With your face battered like a squashed turnip, he may be glad to be rid of ye."

She would have liked to tell him that he was miles from the truth, but there was little point in lying to this group. "I suppose I would frighten a rock just now."

Liam's eyes opened wide as he stared at her. "Ye are serious?" he asked, laughter in his voice.

"He was offended by your wounds?"

She shrugged. "He was quite noble about it. Said he was an honorable man and would marry me nevertheless."

"He's more of an ass than I suspected."

Rachel stepped forward. Shona turned her gaze to her and noticed with some misgivings that her eyes held that eerie light they sometimes did. It was a bad omen. She was thinking things she shouldn't be thinking, guessing things she shouldn't be guessing, meddling in other people's minds.