Shattered Rainbows (57 page)

"He's that much better? Thank heaven." Catherine draped an arm around Amy's shoulders.

Davin gave Michael a cool glance. "The laird said you're not Colin Melbourne. If this fellow is your brother, I assume your name is Ashburton."

"I'm Michael Kenyon. Ashburton is Stephen's title."

Davin's expression blanked. "As in the Duke of Ashburton?"

"Yes," the duke admitted. "But you needn't look like that. I scarcely ever bite."

Michael sighed and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. "I'm sorry about the deception, Davin. For what it's worth, the military experience is real. Catherine and I are friends from the army, which is why she asked me to accompany her to Skoal."

Before Catherine could say more, the duke said, "Instead of standing about talking, we should drive these exhausted folk back to the castle before it starts to rain again. The laird will be anxious to know what happened."

"An excellent notion," Michael muttered. He was weaving on his feet. Catherine wanted to go to him, but it was Stephen's hand that steadied his brother and helped him into the wagon.

On the ride back to the castle, Michael lay flat on the planks, his face gray and his eyes closed. Almost equally tired, Catherine sat against the side of the wagon, hugging Amy close. Quietly she told her daughter everything that had happened, including the fact that Haldoran had murdered Colin.

Amy took the news stony-faced. Her only comment was, "I wish I'd killed Lord Haldoran myself." Then she cuddled against her mother for the rest of the trip.

Catherine settled back with a sigh. Against all the odds, they had been spared. Yet underneath her relief was a rueful wish that she didn't have to face her grandfather.

The laird was propped up against the pillows, looking much like his old self, when the rescued party was ushered in. "So you were in time, Davin. Well done." His gaze went to the duke. "What the devil are you doing here, Ashburton?"

"Just passing by," the duke murmured, amusement in his eyes. "Pretend I'm a fly on the wall."

Taking the duke at his word, the laird listened intently as Kevin gave a terse description of events. When the constable finished, Catherine said hesitantly, "I don't know if I'm welcome here, Grandfather, but I'm glad you're so much improved." She drew Amy forward. "This is your great-granddaughter, Amy."

The laird scowled at the girl. "Wearing breeches like your disgraceful mother. You look like her, too. Are you equally pigheaded?"

Amy raised her chin. "Worse."

"Then I expect we'll get along. Come here, both of you."

Overwhelmed with relief, Catherine went to her grandfather's bedside and kissed him. "I'm truly sorry for deceiving you."

The laird patted her hand awkwardly, then studied Amy's face. After giving a nod of approval, his gaze went to Michael, who was leaning wearily against the wall. "Since you're not Conn Melbourne, who the hell are you?"

"Michael Kenyon, formerly of the 95th Rifles."

"He's also
Colonel
Kenyon of the 105th," Amy added, wanting to be sure the importance of that wasn't missed.

"And my only brother," the duke volunteered.

The laird's shaggy brows rose before he retorted, "I don't care if he's a bloody major-general. Lord Michael has compromised my granddaughter."

Michael's gaze flicked to Catherine and away. "Yes."

She hated to think that all of the kindness they had shared could be reduced to the damning word "compromised." Coolly she said, "I'm a twenty-eight-year-old widow, not a girl from the schoolroom, Grandfather. Any fault is entirely mine. Mr. Harwell said you wouldn't leave Skoal to a single woman. Since Colin was recently dead, I asked Michael to masquerade as my husband. He was extremely reluctant to enter into such a deception, but I begged him to help. His behavior has always been honorable."

"I was less reluctant than Catherine implies," Michael said dispassionately. "When she saved my life after Waterloo, I gave her carte blanche to ask anything of me."

There was nothing remotely loverlike in the statement. She wondered what was in his mind.

The laird sighed. "Harwell was right—I didn't want to leave Skoal to a single woman. However, now that I've met you, I know you'll take good care of the island." He smiled sourly. "Besides, I've no other choice, now that Clive is dead. I was never comfortable with the idea of him as laird. I should have listened to my instincts." He looked at Amy. "Someday you might be the Lady of Skoal, if your mother doesn't have a son. You'll need that stubbornness then."

Catherine gasped, stunned that her grandfather was willing to make her his heir in spite of all that had happened. Even if Michael didn't want her, she and Amy would have independence, a comfortable income, an honorable position in the world.

She looked out the window at the wild, windswept beauty of the island.
Lady of Skoal
. She had lied and deceived to achieve this goal, yet her victory tasted like ashes. It was time to make amends. Other widows managed to care for their children without inheriting an island, and she could do the same.

She looked at her grandfather again. "Haldoran told me that Davin is Harald's son. That's true, isn't it?"

Dead silence dropped over the room and Davin's face went rigid. The laird took a deep breath. "Yes, it's true. It's an open secret on the island."

"Then you do have another choice." She moistened her dry lips. "Davin should be the next laird. He knows and loves every inch of the island. It is he who is the true heir to the ancient traditions of Skoal. It would be wrong for me to take that away from him." She looked at her daughter. "I think Amy would agree with me." Amy gave a silent nod.

Her grandfather's fists clenched on the counterpane. "I considered him, but dammit, Davin is a bastard."

"You take great pride in the island's Viking past, Lord Skoal," Michael said unexpectedly. "The customs of the Northmen were different from those of Southern Europe. William the Conqueror was of Nordic stock. His parents weren't married, which is why he was also called William the Bastard. Yet he was a great warrior and king." His eyes narrowed. "Why should the twenty-seventh Laird of Skoal refrain from doing what he knows is right because of petty English customs?"

Catherine silently applauded. Michael was living proof that dubious parentage was no measure of a man's worth.

The duke added, "It might even be possible to arrange for Mr. Penrose to receive the title. The Prince Regent owes me a favor or two."

The laird drummed his fingers on the bed as the silence stretched. Finally he gave a rasping chuckle. "Maybe you're right. Very well, Davin it is. He's already bred sons to follow him, and I won't have to worry about whether he'll decide to move to some more fashionable place."

Davin gasped. His face was ashen, and in his eyes was the expression of a man being offered what he had never dared hope for. "I've never asked or expected anything of you, my lord, not even acknowledgment of my blood."

"I know. That's one reason I have such respect for you," the laird said gruffly. "You've served me and the island faithfully, with never a word of complaint or self-pity. When the time comes, you'll make a good laird, but you need to work on your temper. It won't do to be too reasonable."

Catherine gave a choke of laughter. "I'm sure you've never had to worry about that, Grandfather."

He glared at her. "I'll have no impertinence from you, miss. You've behaved disgracefully, and the only way to right things is to marry Kenyon."

Her levity vanished and her gaze went to Michael. His face showed no reaction to the laird's outrageous statement. "It's been only three months since Colin's death," she said uncertainly. "It would be most improper to consider remarriage."

"Marrying too soon is less scandalous than what you've been doing," her grandfather snapped. "Kenyon?"

"Naturally I am willing to do my duty," Michael said expressionlessly. "However, I don't know if Catherine or her daughter would accept such an arrangement."

"She'll consent—she's a good example of why a woman needs a husband to keep her in line. If you can command a regiment, I suppose you can manage her, at least most of the time. Catherine, are you going to balk like a mule or behave as a decent woman ought?"

She bit her lip. This was all wrong—yet it was also what she desperately wanted. Perhaps it would be best to agree to a betrothal now. It could always be ended. She glanced at her daughter. "Are you willing to have Michael as your stepfather?"

"If you don't marry someone, beasts like Lord Haldoran will keep trying to abduct you." Amy studied Michael critically, then grinned. "I'd choose you over anyone except Uncle Charles, and of course he's married to Aunt Anne. You'll do."

"I'm very flattered," Michael said gravely.

Her throat dry, Catherine said, "Then… I'm willing if you are."

"That's settled," the laird said. "Both of you come over here and I'll perform the ceremony. Davin, Ashburton, you can stand witness."

Catherine's jaw dropped. "We can't get married without banns or a special license or a vicar!"

Her grandfather gave a wicked smile. "The Laird of Skoal has the power to perform weddings, and considering the mischief you've gotten into, the sooner you two are riveted, the better."

It's too soon
! But Michael was leaving his position by the wall to stand by the laird's bed. In a daze, Catherine joined him. In a last effort to stop this madness, she said feebly, "We don't have a ring."

The duke promptly pulled a ring off his little finger and gave it to Michael. "That's easily remedied."

The laird grasped Catherine's icy left hand and Michael's right and began the ceremony. At the end, he joined their hands together. "I now pronounce you man and wife, and may you bear strong sons together."

Amy said under her breath, "That's a silly ceremony. What about daughters?"

Ignoring her, the laird said, "You can kiss the bride now, Kenyon. I don't imagine it's for the first time."

There was a pause that seemed to stretch forever. Then Michael's lips touched Catherine's, cool and passionless. Releasing her hand, he said, "Now that the pressing business is out of the way, I'd like to be excused so I can sleep twelve or fourteen hours."

"Me, too," Catherine said in an unsteady voice.

The laird sighed and leaned back against the pillows. "I need rest also. It's been quite a day. Davin, see that rooms are made up for Amy and Ashburton."

After shaking his brother's hand and offering hearty congratulations, Ashburton embraced Catherine. "Welcome to the family." There was far more warmth in his voice than there had been in Michael's. Turning to Amy, he said, "It looks like we may be the only ones awake soon. Since I'm now an uncle of sorts, shall we further our acquaintance? Perhaps the constable can find someone to give us a tour of Skoal."

"I'd like that," Amy said. "Can we also get my things from Lord Haldoran's house?"

Davin said, "The head groom will be glad to oblige. I'd do it myself, but… but I must tell Glynis what has happened." He swallowed hard. "Thank you, Catherine. I'm still stunned that anyone could be so generous."