The Groom Wore Plaid: Highland Weddings (29 page)

Oh, she could begin to doubt everything now. After all, she’d slept with him when she knew she wouldn’t marry him. She’d led him to think her intentions were honorable, when they really weren’t.

But he’d led her to think she meant something to him. And she started to sob again.

I
T
had taken a long time for Maggie to fall into an exhausted sleep. When a knock on the door awoke her, she felt bleary-eyed and little rested.

“Who is it?” she croaked.

“Kathleen, mistress. I’d come in, but the door seems to be locked.”

Maggie groaned. “Give me a moment.”

She sat up, feeling a muscle twinge here and there. Beside her, there was a spot of blood on the sheets. She yanked the counterpane up. She would have to try to remove the stain herself. She didn’t think Kathleen would spread her secrets about, but she wasn’t taking that chance. No one was going to be able to force her to marry.

After wrapping the dressing gown around her, she opened the door to find Kathleen only the first servant in line. The rest carried in a bathing tub and buckets of hot water.

“I know ye usually bathe at night, mistress, but his lordship reminded me that ye hadn’t.”

“How kind of him,” Maggie said, striving to sound calm.

Very well, it
was
kind of him to remember, she thought grudgingly. And then she looked at all the faces of the young men and boys carrying buckets, all of whom nodded as they passed her, but most did not meet her eyes. How was she ever going to know who wished her gone? Were there young men
who’d be angry that they didn’t get to try their skills against the enemy they grew up hating? She felt sad and frustrated—and then angry with her weakness. Anyone who did not see the advantage of peace was a fool.

After the tub was filled, another bucket left near at hand for rinsing, Kathleen finished laying out Maggie’s clothes and departed.

Maggie practically moaned when she sank into the tub. She was so grateful it had been fashioned for a big man, because she could sink almost to her chin. She let the heat soothe her mildly aching muscles, and wished it could wipe away all her mental anguish, too.

As she was lazily soaping her arms, a knock sounded and the handle turned. Nothing happened.

“Maggie?”

It was Owen’s voice, and though she’d known she would have to face him soon, she was a little too pleased to say, “’Tis locked. You may return in half an hour.”

There was no answer for a long moment, and then he politely said, “Very well.”

Was she actually disappointed? What was wrong with her? He was a man who only wanted her for her body and as a pawn in a feud. He thought she was either a liar or simpleton. And now she had to worry that she was carrying his babe.

And yet she wanted him to walk in on her naked?
She groaned and put her head back on the rim of the tub. She really was a simpleton. A lovesick simpleton. That could be the only explanation.

She had less than a half hour—she’d better hurry.

When he knocked again, precisely on time, Kathleen was still lacing her gown into place.

“Just a moment, my lord,” Kathleen called.

“I should have had you write him a note,” Maggie said. “Then he would have given us more time.” She watched the maid out of the corner of her eye.

“Aye, no matter. I’m about done.”

Maggie nodded and tried not to sag with frustration. It was pointless to question Kathleen—surely Gregor could write.

At last, Kathleen opened the door, bobbed a little curtsy to Owen, and departed. Owen shut the door behind him and stood there.

Maggie hadn’t known how she’d feel when she saw him again. He was studying her with those dark eyes, and she felt uncomfortably aware of what he’d done to her in the night, the intimate things he’d . . .

Oh, damn, now she was blushing.

“Yes?” she asked, trying to sound cool and unaffected.

And then she realized that he was carrying a tray.

“I brought you breakfast. May I sit down?”

She gestured to the little table near the window, where he proceeded to place individual plates, a bowl of porridge, as well as a platter in the center piled with bacon,
salted herring, and fried eggs. It felt strange to have him serving her, but he owed her a lot more than that.

She sat down and placed a napkin across her lap, and watched him do the same. He filled a small bowl with porridge for her, then set a small helping of everything else on her plate, even as she broke open a warm bannock and sniffed appreciatively. They ate silently for several minutes, until at last Owen eyed her.

“You look refreshed this morning. I trust you slept well?”

She sighed. “Not really. I had a difficult time falling asleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

She wanted to ask him exactly what he was sorry for, but she didn’t. The words were an easy thing to say and were seldom meant.

“Before we discuss the letter, I wish to discuss our lovemaking,” he said.

Maggie lifted up her head sharply. “Ye cannot mean that.”

“I wanted you to know I did not plan it, that I would never deliberately try to trap you into marriage.”

“I didn’t think ye did.”

“I am relieved. But regardless, if there’s a child—”

“Then we will discuss it.”

“I will not allow a child of mine to be born a bastard,” he said firmly.

“I didn’t say I would either. But Owen, if we marry, ye could die!”

“We’re all going to die. But before I do, I’ll have ye to wife.”

She closed her eyes. Did he know what he did to her when his brogue peeked out? And why was he so bloody dense?

She took a calming breath. “Let’s discuss the letter.”

He touched her arm again. “I had a strong reaction to it. I can only imagine how it was for you. You are a composed young woman to have handled that without running for help.”

“And what would that have done? I want whoever this is to think he’s cowed me, to think he’s succeeding. And besides, think ye I’ve not had terrible information before that I could share with few people?”

He only nodded, took another bite of bacon, and chewed before swallowing. “Is this the first open threat?”

“Aye, ’tis the first threatening me with serious harm, but there’ve been other issues that have demonstrated how upset this villain is.”

“Both fires and the talisman,” he said.

She nodded. “I’m assuming it’s the same person, although we can’t be certain right now. When we were up on the mountain leaving the standing stones and I fell? I’d already traveled that path three times, between accompanying Euphemia and you. Those rocks weren’t there before. They were placed right where we came over a crest in the path, and couldn’t see them without tripping over them.”

He slowly set down his knife. “Why did you not tell me this?”

“It seemed . . . foolish, and there was no way to prove I was correct. But now, with the letter, ’tis no longer just a few things to annoy me. I told ye about what I overheard Gregor say against me—which he’s done more than once, I believe.” She arched a brow.

“Yes, he did try to talk me out of marrying you. Do you think he’s the one who’s taken this so far?”

“He’s not the only one angry with me, but yesterday I confirmed that Martin Hepburn can’t read.”

“Ah, I wondered why you were talking to Nellie.”

“Ye’re not going to ask if I revealed too much?”

“I trust you.”

Stunned, she stared at him. It took everything in her not to refute that, because if he trusted her, he’d respect her fears about his death. But she had to admit, Owen had shown a small amount of trust: he hadn’t taken control of the investigation, told her not to worry about it and let a man handle it. Her brother probably would have, at least before his marriage to a strong woman.

“And there’s Gregor,” Maggie finally continued, “he’s not from here, not really. He’s spent most of his life in the colonies and only heard the stories of the feud. He hasn’t experienced the pain of needless death and destruction.”

“None of us have, at least between Duff and McCallum, since the marriage contract signed at Cat’s birth.”

“Then why would he want to resurrect that all over again?”

“I don’t know,” Owen mused. “And we can’t say for certain it’s him.”

“Nay, we cannot.”

He sat back in his chair and took a sip of his ale. “I must admit it’s hard for me to believe one of my own people would be so cruel to a woman. I fear what will happen if I don’t send you away.”

“Ye’re not sending me away. I’m not a coward, Owen, and I won’t be coddled.”

“So you’re saying you refuse to back down before this villain and you’ll marry me regardless?”

“I’ll make sure the contract is satisfied in some manner.”

He frowned and spoke coldly. “You’re not marrying a cousin of mine. If you’re carrying my child—”

“I thought we agreed not to bring that up!”

As if his words had power, she remembered again his naked body on her, in her, the way he set her afire, the way he could make her moan. She kept her gaze on her plate until her thoughts were under control.

“What if I question Kathleen again?” she asked.

She glanced up at him, only to find him gazing pointedly at her cleavage. She cleared her throat.

He looked up and blinked several times. “Forgive me, what did you say?”

“I said I could question Kathleen again.”

“No, we don’t want her to alert her brother. I had a
chance earlier this morn to talk to my uncle. He says that Gregor has relatives in Ledard, a village not too far from here. Perhaps they know something about Gregor or his parents. I will go and speak to them today.”

“I will come with ye,” she said solemnly. “Who knows what danger I would be in here without ye to protect me?”

He grimaced. “My uncle is my war chief. I imagine he can keep you safe.”

“He’s getting old.”

He exhaled. “Very well. Can you be ready in an hour? It’s several hours’ journey.”

“I’ll ask Mrs. Robertson to see to provisions for us.”

He stood up and began to gather their breakfast.

“I’ll do that,” she said. “You go see to the horses.”

He was looking at her with such intensity that her breath caught. She tried to remain composed, but it was difficult. At last he nodded and left her alone, and she could breathe easier again. Somehow she would find a way to deal with him and not let her emotions show.

If he knew she’d fallen in love with him, he’d have even more ways to manipulate her into marriage.

C
HAPTER
18

I
t was a rare cloudless day in the summer, and the blue sky was like a tent stretching from mountaintop to mountaintop. Maggie breathed deeply once the castle was no longer in sight, and she realized how oppressive it had felt, knowing people hated her being there. She rode easily on the mare’s back, and Fergus and another clansman lingered far enough behind Owen and her that if they wanted to talk, they wouldn’t be overheard.

“I cannot fathom why you look so content,” Owen said, riding beside her.

She squinted at him in the sun. “Because I haven’t left that castle in almost three weeks. I feel like I can breathe again.”

“You despise my home so much?”

“Ye ken that’s not what I mean,” she said impatiently. “I feel a rising dread there, Owen, every time ye speak about marrying me.”

“If you’re so worried about me dying, then you must feel something.”

“I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

He looked straight ahead at that, and his expression smoothed right out. She eyed him curiously. Was he, perhaps, thinking that the chance of him becoming wounded was greater, now that the threats against her were escalating?

“You haven’t brought me any books that you’re studying lately,” Owen said.

Changing the subject. Interesting. “There hasn’t been time, what with the festival and my family’s visit.”

“There are so many things we could discuss. I wanted to tell you about an invention I saw demonstrated in London, a diving bell for breathing under water. They lower it into the water, and when the swimmer stays beneath it, the air is trapped so he can breathe. They even replenish the air with weighted barrels of air sent down from the surface.”

“Are ye wishing to breathe under water, Owen?” she asked quietly, feeling the first touch of sympathy for him over Emily’s drowning. Had it affected him more than he let on?

He gave her a confused look. “It is simply a fascinating device.”

“Emily drowned. And now someone’s threatened me with drowning. And ye bring up the diving bell.”

“You’re reading too much into my curiosity, Maggie.” And he faced forward again.

She knew a dismissal when she experienced it. She let him mull her words.

At Ledard, a small collection of stone cottages at the edge of a hill roamed by cattle, Owen tried to keep their arrival low-key, but when they had to ask for Gregor’s relatives, word spread. By the time they were heading to a small home on the outskirts, Maggie turned around and saw at least a dozen people gathered together on the central green, talking and watching them. Once she would have made a joke about his celebrity, but she held back now.

Owen dismounted and came to help her, but she slid down before he could. The less touching, the better, she thought. He knocked on the door, and an elderly woman’s voice could be heard, calling for patience. It was a long minute before she opened the door, her back hunched beneath a rounded hump, her hand braced on a cane.

“Aye?” she asked in a high-pitched, querulous voice.

“Mrs. Kincaid?”

She put a hand to her ear, and he raised his voice and repeated himself.

“Aye, and who are ye?” She squinted at both of them with interest but not suspicion.

“I’m Owen Duff and this is my betrothed, Maggie.”

He left off his fancy title, Maggie saw, and her surname, as well.

“Ye’re Himself!” Mrs. Kincaid said in obvious delight. “Come in, come in!”

Owen nodded to Fergus, who waited outside with the horses, then had to duck to enter the single room with its earthen floor. Mrs. Kincaid had them sit down at her wooden table side by side on a bench, and after putting two tankards of ale before them, she took the chair.