The Highlander's Choice (18 page)

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and held his aching head in his hands. A bath, breakfast, and a slow ride home was the order for the day. Best to get it over with.

The sight that greeted him as he crested the hill leading to Bedlay didn’t inspire the pride and joy it normally did. All he saw was an old castle that would never be filled with the sound of Sybil’s laughter, or the bairns he’d planned to have with her. Little lasses with long brown curls and sparkling whiskey-colored eyes. Half-English and half-Scottish.

Taking a deep breath, he rode the rest of the way, stopping at the stable to leave Cadeym.

“Good morning, my laird. ’Twas a long trip ye took this time.”

“Aye.” He handed the reins over to Angus, the old man who’d been stable master since he’d been a lad. “Have our guests arrived?”

“Aye, Laird. About a week ago.”

Liam nodded and headed to the castle. The enticing aroma of fresh baked bread greeted him as he entered, restoring his appetite for the first time in weeks. He passed empty rooms as he wandered through the lower floor and then entered the kitchen.

“Praise the Lord, the laird has returned!” Mrs. MacDougal turned from the pot over the fireplace she’d been tending to, a huge smile on her rounded face.

“Aye. And ’tis starving I am.”

“Well, sit yerself right down, and I’ll fix ye a fine plate of stew.”

“And some of that wonderful bread I smell.”

She bustled around the room, scooping stew into a bowl, then placing it in front of him, along with several thick slices of bread and butter.

After he’d had his fill, he pushed his empty bowl away and asked, “Where is my mum?”

The cheerful woman carried a cup of tea to the table where he sat and settled in across from him. “She’s been busy entertaining her guests. A sweet lass, that Anise McLaughlin. Verra quiet, fearful, sort of. Not like Lady Sybil, that one. Your mum brought her to the kitchen to see how it all works but she dinna seem too interested. Spent most of her time twisting her fingers and staring at the ground.”

Liam sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He thought of the lass his mum had sent for, and then his mind wandered toward Sybil. Her face, her spirit, her love of life. The way she smiled at him, how she made him feel when he held her close. Her kisses and laughter.

A fire started low in his belly and tightened his muscles. His heart pounded, and a burst of energy like he’d never felt before raced through him, jolting him from his chair as if booted from behind. The shroud of despair that had kept him company for weeks fell like broken glass at his feet. He was not a quitter. By the saints! What the hell had he done?

Mrs. MacDougal jumped as he banged his fist into a wall and let out with a fine string of curses. She studied him for a minute. “Laird, it sounds as if ye have finally come to yer senses.”

He rubbed his sore knuckles. “Aye, Mrs. MacDougal. I have indeed come to my senses. Now ’tis the time to set things to rights.”

She gave him a wide grin, revealing a missing front tooth. “I like the look in yer eyes, Laird.”

He kissed the woman on the top of her head and strode from the kitchen in search of mum. Why the devil had he let Sybil leave? He should have physically thrown her over his shoulder and hauled her upstairs to lock her in his bedchamber until he’d convinced her he’d made a huge mistake. He should have not let her out of his bed until she understood that what he’d yelled in a moment of anger was not how he truly felt.

Sounds of conversation drifted from the parlor, and he followed the path to the voices. His mum sat, embroidery in her hand, instructing Anise, as The McLaughlin looked on.

“There he is now, Laird.” His mum stood and greeted him with a bright smile as if she hadn’t torn his life apart only a few weeks ago. “’Tis so glad I am yer home, lad. I told The McLaughlin how yer were called away to deal with a problem with the clan.”

He swallowed his anger and turned to The McLaughlin. “My Laird.” Then he walked to Anise and greeted her, never having laid eyes on the lass before. She was slight, with golden hair fashioned in braids wrapped demurely around her head. She glanced up at him briefly, her sky blue eyes casting back down toward her lap as she fidgeted with her fingers.

Although of a pleasant countenance, she was not his Sybil. This was a lass who could disappear in a room full of people. Sybil would be at the center, laughing, joking, and trying hard not to notice his heated looks. Anise McLaughlin looked as if she were terrified of him.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to her father. “I request that ye grant us privacy so I may speak with yer daughter.”

“Aye. Yes, yes,” his mum said grinning. She picked up her embroidery and hustled The McLaughlin out of the room.

If he hadn’t been so angry with her, he would have laughed at what she must have thought was his imminent proposal to the lass.

Once the door closed, he turned to Anise. “Have ye had a pleasant visit while I’ve been gone?”

She nodded her head, keeping her focus on her lap. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced. “Lass. Ye are a sweet, bonnie girl and would make any man proud to call ye wife.”

The distinct sound of a whimper came from her direction. This would indeed go much better if she at least looked at him. He moved toward her, thinking to go down on his knee so he could see her face, but decided since the lass was expecting a proposal, that was not the best position to put himself into.

“Anise. Can ye at least look at me, please?”

Slowly she raised her head, chewing her lip, her eyes as wide as Mrs. MacDougal’s oat cakes.

“Are ye all right, lass?”

She shrugged.

Time was wasting that he could be on his way to England. Best to get this over with and depart. “I hate to disappoint ye, and I hope not to hurt yer feelings, but the fact of the matter is, my mum overstepped herself. I am not prepared to make ye an offer of marriage.”

For the first time since he’d entered the room, she looked at him, a smile spreading across her face. “Yer not?”

“Nay. I am betrothed to another, and my mum had no right to ask yer father to bring ye here.”

She hopped up and grabbed his hand. “Oh, thank you, my laird. Thank you so much.” The wee lass threw her arms around his neck and gave him a large, rather sloppy kiss on his cheek.

He drew back, grinning at her unexpected response “Well, ’tis happy I am that yer so relieved.”

“I am. Truly, I am. My da wouldna listen to me. He was so anxious to join our clans, he refused Alfred’s request for my hand.”

“Alfred?”

“Yes. He is a wonderful man. He loves me, and I love him. He has his own land and raises sheep.” Her words fought with her lungs for breath.

A slight scratch at the door drew their attention. The McLaughlin and his mum entered, both grinning from ear to ear. “So, lad have ye set a date?” his mum said.

Liam looked at Anise and they both burst into laughter.

The McLaughlin and his mum threw them curious glances. “And what is so funny?”

“Sit down, the both of ye.” Liam motioned to Anise to take a seat as well, but he remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back. “There will be no wedding between me and Anise.” He raised his hand when his mum opened her mouth to speak. “Dinna interrupt.”

Liam turned to The McLaughlin. “I apologize to ye, Laird. My mum overstepped herself. I am betrothed to another woman.”

“What is this?” The man glared at his mum. “Ye told me the lad wanted a wife. Ye invited us here to make the final arrangements and have a wedding. My daughter is verra upset at this turn of events.”

“Nay, da.” Her face pale, Anise jumped in. “I am not upset. I told ye many times Alfred has asked for my hand, and it is he who I wish to wed.”

“Why do ye think ye can just fancy someone and marry them?” Lady MacBride scowled at the two of them. “Ye neither one have loyalty to yer clans.”

Liam ignored his mum and addressed The McLaughlin. “’Tis sorry I am for all the trouble my mum put you through. But I will not be marrying yer daughter, and I sincerely hope ye will grant yer permission and blessing to Anise and her Alfred to marry.”

The McLaughlin looked at his daughter and his expression softened. “Aye, lass. If it’s Alfred yer wanting, then let’s be on our way.” He stood and addressed Lady MacBride. “’Tis time for us to acknowledge what we think is best for our children is not always what they want.”

His mum huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

Liam motioned to his mum. There was still one more thing he had to do before he left for England. “Mum, I will see ye in the library, please.”

Her brows drawn together, she followed him. He motioned for her to take a seat and he settled in the chair across from her.

She went on the attack immediately. “I canna believe ye would embarrass me so in front of The McLaughlin. Yer making a grave mistake. Why are ye thinking with yer man parts instead of yer brain?”

Despite the anger that rose in him, he waved her question away. He would not allow her to drag him into an argument when he was anxious to leave. “’Tis a mean thing ye did, mum. When we are finished with this conversation, I am headed to England to bring Sybil back here if she will have me.”

“Nay!”

“Enough! I am done with yer interfering. Ye had no right to drag those people here with the promise of marriage. Do ye have any idea the heartbreak ye caused, woman?” The anger in his voice was heightened by his low growling tone.

She raised her chin, her face growing red. “’Tis not sorry I did.”

Closing his eyes, he shook his head, and then fixed her with a piercing look. “’Tis too bad ye said that.”

She shrugged—and that was the final straw.

Rage shot through him at her careless dismissal of what she’d done. “As yer laird, I’m ordering ye to move yer belongings to the tower. Ye will live out yer years in those rooms, taking yer meals there.”

“Nay! Ye canna do that. My daughters are here.”

“I will see to my sisters. ’Tis not sure I am that yer influence on them is a good one, anyway. Yer a hateful woman, and ’tis a distressing day when I need to say that to my own mum.” Before he could change his mind, he pushed himself out of the chair and left the room.

In less than an hour he was clean, shaven, dressed, and ready to leave again. The food and bath had helped clear his head from the previous evening. Going to the small silver and black box on his dresser, he removed enough coins for the trip. In the corner of the box sat the ruby and diamond ring Sybil had placed on her pillow right before she’d left. Retrieving it, he rubbed the stone on his sleeve. Then fisting it, he closed his eyes and remembered the pain on her face when she’d walked in on his argument with his mum.

Whatever it took, he would gain her forgiveness and make her believe he loved her and would do whatever was necessary to make her his.

I’m coming for ye, lass.

Chapter Eighteen

The fading sun cast a soft golden glow over Sybil and Sarah as they walked arm in arm around the end of the summer roses in the east garden. “I believe I may survive, Sarah.”

Sarah hugged her twin closer. “You are a strong woman, Sybil. Of course you will survive.”

“There were times I truly doubted it. I finally realized how Marion felt the two years she was mourning Tristan.” Sybil shook her head. “Except in my case, he isn’t dead.”

“Neither was Tristan.”

“True.” Sybil smiled. “In some crazy way it would be better. But married to someone else?”

It had taken her a couple of weeks, but she had finally confided in Sarah what had taken place in Scotland. Even the part about her and Liam making love. Instead of being shocked, her sister prodded her for information until Sybil brought a halt to the conversation. Some things were not to be shared, even with one’s twin.

Sarah had sympathized with her when she had replayed the argument with Liam. How his words proved he still held animosity and disdain for the English. She told Sarah that had they gone forward with the wedding, every time they had a disagreement, the issue of English against Scottish would most likely arise.

However, Sybil was surprised to hear her twin almost try to excuse Liam’s words. She gently pointed out that after all she’d told her of Lady MacBride, it seemed the woman could certainly goad someone into saying things they truly didn’t mean.

But
it didn’t help to dwell on that thought—it was too painful to think she’d acted in haste.

“Auntie!” Their nephew, eighteen month old Robert, Marquess of Stafford, toddled on the path toward them, followed by his mother, Penelope. Their sister-in-law pushed a pram with five month old
Lady Esther Lacey.

Sybil bent and the boy ran to her. Scooping him up, she swung him around and gave him a loud smacking kiss on his cheek. “I still cannot get over how big you grew while I was gone. Surely it must have been a whole year.”

“No.”

Penelope laughed. “That seems to be his favorite word. That and
papa
.”

Sybil rubbed her nose on Robert’s belly. “Are you giving your mama a hard time, my lord?”

“No.” He started to wiggle. “Down.”

Once on his feet, he proceeded to squat and watch a bug wander the path. He pointed to the insect. “Bug.”

“Yes, sweetheart that is a bug.” Penelope was now holding Esther, making motherly clucking sounds.

At the warm and loving the scene before her, Sybil placed her hand on her belly, the gnawing anxiety she’d felt since her return washing over her. Dear Lord, what would she do if what she suspected were true? That was another dilemma she’d shared with Sarah.

“Penelope, where is Junie?” The nanny was another in a string of nurses the Duke and his wife had employed since Robert’s birth. Although she would not admit it, it was generally known in the family that Penelope wished no one but herself to deal with her children. Hence the parade of girls that she’d not found suitable for one reason or another. They’d always left the duke’s employ with a generous severance and a glowing recommendation.

American-born and raised by an unconventional father who’d taught his daughter botany, Penelope was loved by the entire family. And since the dowager duchess had also broken with tradition in the raising of her children, no one thought much of Penelope’s strange behavior.

“Junie had a headache, so I told her to lie down.”

Sarah grinned. “Did you also bring her a cool cloth with lavender?”

“Yes, that works so well for me.” Penelope reached down and stopped Robert right before the boy put the bug in his mouth.

“Penelope, you do understand the concept of servants doing for their employers, not the other way around?” Sarah was laughing now.

“Oh dear, I think this little one needs a nappy change.” Penelope returned Esther to the pram and reached out for Robert’s hand. “Come along, dear.”

“No.”

“It is time for tea.”

“No.” The little boy pointed to the dirt where Penelope had tossed the insect. “Bug.”

“You cannot have the bug, darling. Now come along with Mama so we can have our tea.”

“No.”

“Go ahead and take care of the baby, Penelope. Sarah and I will get Robert into the house for tea.”

The boy looked up at his aunts. “No.”

With a great deal of coaxing they got Robert as far as the side door of the manor when a scuffling noise drew their attention to the entrance hall. A carriage stood in front of the manor, the door of the vehicle open, but no one inside.

With Sarah and Sybil each holding one of Robert’s hands they climbed the few steps to the back door and down the corridor toward the front entrance.

“I’ll not be leaving here until I see Sybil. Now either call the lass, or you’ll be seeing me searching every room in the place.”

Drake stood blocking the door as Sybil and Sarah hurried forward.

“Sybil!” A man’s voice shouted.

Sybil’s eyes widened. “Liam?”

Drake turned just enough at Sybil’s words to allow Liam to shove his way in. Sybil dropped Robert’s hand and covered her mouth with her fingers. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to get ye, lass.”

Drake stepped up to the couple. “I think we should move this conversation to the library.”

In a daze, Sybil allowed Liam to lead her into the library behind Drake. Their mother, drawn to the racket at the front door, along with Sarah, trooped behind to join them. Once the women were all settled into chairs, Drake leaned against his desk and crossed his arms, facing Liam who stood with his feet spread apart, looking very much like a Scottish warrior.

Sybil was speechless for perhaps the first time in her life. Even though she’d been overwhelmed with anger when she’d left him, her heart now pounded in an all too familiar and exciting way. She’d forgotten how very powerful and determined Laird Liam MacBride could look. His chin stuck out and his eyes snapped as if ready to take on not just her brother, the Duke, but all of England.

What had been his purpose in coming here? The only thought in her head was how happy she was to see him. She was hard pressed to remain mad at him. She only wanted to throw herself into his arms and weep for joy.

“Perhaps you better explain to all of us exactly what went on in Scotland. My sister returned home quite a bit different than when she left to go to Lady Margaret’s wedding. I had a letter from you many weeks ago telling me you were taking responsibility for my sister, she would be visiting your castle where she would be well chaperoned, and you would personally see her home safely. Does that sound familiar?”

“Yes, Yer Grace.”

“Yet my sister returns with only her maid, your driver, and an outrider. She is melancholy, will not tell me what went on in Scotland, and now you appear at my front door demanding to see her as though you have some rights where she is concerned.”

“Aye, ye have the right of it, mon. Perhaps I could have some time to speak with Sybil alone.” Liam glanced at all the curious eyes watching the scene.

“I don’t believe I trust you to be alone with my sister. I still don’t know what went on in Scotland and nothing you’ve said so far has changed my opinion.”

Liam ran stiff fingers through his hair. “I asked the lass to marry me.”

“Then why did she return home? Sybil,” he turned toward his sister, “did you refuse the man?”

“Yes.”

Drake stepped forward. “Then you will please remove yourself from the premises.”

“Wait!” Sybil jumped up. “I did refuse him at first, but then I changed my mind and we became betrothed.”

“And?”

“We had some differences.”

“What differences?”

“He insulted my English heritage.”

Drake narrowed his eyes at Liam, then pulled back his arm and slammed his fist into Liam’s chin. He went down, but was back up in a flash.

“You maligned my sister?” Her brother rubbed his knuckles.

“Nay. My mum pushed me into an argument, and Sybil overheard something I said in anger.” He turned to Sybil. “I dinna mean it, lass. You have to believe me.”

“Since my sister is back here in England, it appears whatever you said, my sister did believe, so I repeat, please remove yourself from the premises.”

Liam turned to her. “Lass, please. I need to speak with ye alone.”

Sybil stood and immediately swayed. Liam, Drake, and Sarah all reached out for her. The lightheadedness had been increasing. Which is precisely what she had been afraid of. She was breeding.

Liam reached her first and wrapped his arm around her, tucking her into his side. “What is the matter, lass? Are ye ill?”

Sybil shook her head. The dizziness had left, but her stomach gave her reason to believe it would soon relieve itself of her luncheon. “No, I’m fine.”

Drake glared at Liam. “I suggest you remove your arm from my sister and take yourself back to Scotland.”

“Nay. I’ll not be leaving without Sybil.”

“Stop! Everyone is talking about me as if I weren’t present.” Her mind was reeling. Liam was here, he apparently hadn’t married the woman his mother had sent for, and she was most likely pregnant. On top of that, he’d driven her away by blurting out that his children would never be English and would only know their Scottish heritage. They’d parted on not too friendly terms. To say she was confused would be an understatement.

She took in a deep breath. “Yes, we must talk, but first I need to make a quick trip.” She slapped her hand on her mouth, turned, and then raced from the room, Sarah and her mother right behind her.

“Lass, I think ye are carrying my bairn.”

Sybil dashed up the stairs to the sound of flesh hitting flesh and the thud of a body hitting the floor.

…

Liam breathed a sigh of relief as Drake reached across the desk and shook his hand. “Welcome to the family.”

They’d been cosseted in the library, just the two of them, for over an hour. Liam worked his jaw that had taken two blows from his future brother-in-law. For a cushy duke, the man had a wallop. Not that he blamed Drake. Had a man taken advantage of Catriona or Alanna, he would have done the same. And more.

Once the women left the room the two men had faced each other like two snarling animals. Liam was determined to convince the Duke of Manchester that he would be a wonderful husband for his sister. The duke was obviously very protective of his women, and Liam liked that.

All the agreements had been reached and signed. He didn’t care what Sybil’s dowry was, he only wanted her. He was especially anxious to speak with her now that he suspected she was in a family way. Sobering at the thought of how difficult life would have been for the lass had he not decided to put aside his pride and come after her, he wanted to assure her that he was thrilled at the prospect of being a father. Also, given their last conversation, he had yet to convince her that he would not allow any child of theirs to ignore their English side. He still had a lot of groveling to do.

“I imagine you and Sybil have a few things to straighten out. I’ll see if she’s feeling up to it, and send her in.” Apparently, once again reminded of what condition Liam had sent his sister home in, Drake frowned and hesitated before striding to the door. “I expect you to keep your hands to yourself until the marriage takes place.”

“Aye.” Not that it mattered, since the damage had already been done, but he didn’t think it would be smart to mention that little fact to the duke.

Liam paced the area in front of the fireplace for so long he was amazed to see the rug had not been worn through. He whipped his head around as the door to the library opened. Sybil stood there, still a bit pale.

She walked slowly into the room. The happiness he’d been hoping to see in her eyes was missing. She looked guarded, on edge, not at all how he’d hoped their reunion to be. Despite him and her brother agreeing on terms, it appeared he still had a problem where the lass was concerned.

He drew on all the charm he’d used over the years with the fairer sex. “Darlin’, ’tis sorry I am. For everything. For my mum, for what I said about our bairns, and for blurting out about yer condition before yer family.”

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Why are you here, Liam?”

He reached his hand out. “Come here, lass, and sit.”

She took the chair near the fireplace. With a grunt, he scooped her up and settled her on his lap. Her body stiff, she held herself back. “Please answer my question.”

“I am here to bring you back to Bedlay with me. Where you belong. As my wife, and if I’m not mistaken, as the mother of my bairn.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“Love requires trust and acceptance. You don’t accept the English part of me. Any children we would have,” she paused and covered her belly, “would be half English.”

“Aye, and proud of them I will be.”

She gave a very unladylike snort.

After all this, was he going to lose her? Just because he had blurted out something stupid in the middle of an argument?

Nay. He would fight for what he wanted. He would not give up now, even if he had to camp outside her door for the next year. “I love you, lass. With my whole heart.” He grasped her chin and made her face him. “Can you honestly say you don’t love me?”

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t say that. But will that be enough?”

“If you turn me away, you are basing that decision on a dislike of the English I held all the years before I met you that had been drummed into me since birth.” He kissed the tips of her fingers. “I can learn, darlin’. You can help me.”

“The first time we have a disagreement, you’ll be spouting off about the English.” She moved off his lap and faced him. “And our children? Will they face your disdain if they show anything other than Scottish ways?”

“Nay.” He reached out to pull her to him, but she danced away.

He stiffened his shoulders and regarded her. “All right, Sybil. I will tell ye what we will do.”