Thorn in My Heart (23 page)

“Necessary arrangements,” indeed. Rose had hoped to have a full month to convince Leana and Jamie of their mutual affection and chase old Fergus away. It seemed she might have that much time and more.

She grinned as she carefully refolded the letter. Except for the loosened wax, the post appeared unopened. Leana, fearing discovery, would no doubt want it tossed in the fire and the ashes strewn about her garden. Rose had no intention of letting so vital a paper be destroyed. She would hide it safely in their room for a day, many years hence, when Leana would delight at seeing the letter that had changed her too-quiet life.

Rose hastened up and down the gende hills as the sun sank lower in the sky, staining the horizon crimson. Cultivated fields gave way to more rugged land, with gnarled old trees and outcroppings of rocks the size of cows. Past the dark fell that rose to her left, the road straightened for the last mile home, much of it uphill. The orchards of Auchengray came into view first, then the whitewashed stone house, built some distance from the road. As a child, Rose had feared the many-paned windows across the front because they reminded her of eyes, unblinking and unkind. Leana had cured her of that notion soon enough, telling her to think of them as a row of teeth and the chimneys at each end of the house as the corners of a smile.

“Then what is that frichtsome gray slate roof?” Rose recalled demanding.

“A jolly mans mustache,” was her sisters wise answer.

The only jolly man who lived at Auchengray was Duncan and only when a term day didn't loom over him, demanding that his ledgers be in order and his workers satisfied enough to stay with the farm another term. In a month, come Martinmas, Duncan Hastings would not be jolly at all.

Aye, but Leana might bel

Rose knew her broad smile would give her away. How could she possibly contain her excitement with such a letter tucked in the hanging pocket beneath her dress? She flew up the drive to the front door, bursting across the threshold like water over a linn.

“Leana!”

Her sister called to her from the hearth, “In here, dearie.”

Rose found her sister sitting close to the fire, two candles on a nearby table barely providing enough light for sewing. Even wearing her spectacles, Leana had to hold the fabric close to her eyes, squinting at her tiny needle weaving in and out of the seam, her mouth firmly pinched into a frown.

Rose was aghast at the wretched scene. In the darkened room, with her face and hair colorless in the firelight, Leana looked like an old woman. Older than Fergus McDougal. Much too old for their braw cousin. Had Jamie seen her like this? He would not soon forget it if he had. Something must be done and quickly

“Enough sewing for tonight,” Rose announced, gently pulling the linen from her sisters hands. “Its too dark, Leana. You'll go blind trying to stitch like that.”

“Too late.” Leana gave a weary sigh and put aside the shirt. “You are right. I mustn't strain my eyes more than necessary.” She slipped off her small spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Jamie's shirt can wait until Monday, I suppose.”

“Did he…see you?” Rose dreaded the answer. “Working on his shirt, I mean?”

“Of course.” Leana flexed her slender fingers, no doubt cramped from a long afternoon with her needle. “In fact, he was sitting with me
here by the fire until a few minutes ago when he asked to meet with Father before supper.” She gestured toward the closed spence door. “Perhaps we'll finally learn why Jamie is here.”

Rose closed her
eyes
, seeing her hopes for her sister dashed against the cliffs like the Solway at high tide. At that very moment, Jamie was probably telling their father that he could not marry weak-eyed Leana, with her plain face and dull ways. That, although he must marry a McBride lass, it would not be the older daughter he would claim for his wife.

It would be the younger one.

NaelRose
felt her limbs trembling. She was not ready. Not ready to leave Newabbey, not ready to setde down in a lonely glen far from her friends, not ready to marry a man she did not know, not ready to manage his household, not ready to bear his sons, not ready to have children crawling about her skirts.
Nael
She fell into a chair like a sack of coal landing on a doorstep. “I know why Jamie is here.”

Leana stared at her. “How could you know when you ve been gone all day?”

Her sister sounded wary.
Nae, hurt.
Rose would show her the letter. Leana would see the sad news for herself. Jamie would make his choice, just as Fergus had made his. None of their lives would ever be the same. Rose reached in her hanging pocket and pulled out the letter, her fingers suddenly as stiff as elm twigs.

“Who is that letter addressed to?” Leana sounded suspicious.

Rose handed her the post, unwilling to read it again, ashamed to confess her sin.

“Rose!” Leana's hoarse whisper did not hide the fear in her voice. “This was meant for Father.” Leana turned her back toward the spence door, then held a candle close to the paper, peering at the words, her mouth slowly opening to an astonished O. “Rose…what does this mean?

“You know what it means, Leana.” She snatched the letter from her sisters hand and thrust it into the flickering candle. The edge of the paper ignited at once, burning black across the page, eating Jamie's
words whole. Rose held it as long as she could, dien tossed the letter into the peat fire, afraid it might singe her fingers. “We did not read this,” she said grimly. “We do not know why Jamie is here.”

Leana reached for her hand. “But, Rose—”

The door to the spence flew open, and Jamie walked into the room as though he'd just signed the deed to Auchengray. “Rose!” A warm smile bloomed on his face. “Welcome home.”

Both sisters stood as one, deftly closing the gap between them to block Jamie's view of the hearth. Behind them, the remains of the letter lay in the grate, smoldering. He seemed not to notice.

“Cousin Jamie,” Rose said, forcing a smile to her face. “I trust you've spent an agreeable day?”

“Very agreeable.” He nodded at Leana. “Your sister is sewing me a new shirt, and Neda is making cock-a-leekie soup for supper.”

Rose lifted her brows. “Chicken and leeks. This makes you happy?”

“Aye, lass, it does. My uncle is pleased as well.” He stepped closer, and they moved toward him, like a country dance without a fiddler.

“Careful, Cousin,” Rose warned. “You'll find your soup brimming with prunes. Father's favorite.” Rose longed to glance over her shoulder and see if the letter had turned to soot. But she could not. She could only pray and stand guard, knowing they looked as guilty as they were.

Jamie slowly shifted his gaze from one sister to the other. She felt inspected, like oysters at the market, and knew Leana must as well. “I will see you both at seven,” he finally said, striding from the room without looking back. Without seeing the last of his letter succumb to the fire.

The sisters sank into their chairs and sighed in tandem.

Rose spoke first. “Mr. Elliot gave me the letter for Father.”

“And you read it.”

“Aye.” Rose glanced over and watched a dozen emotions move across her sister's features. “For good or for ill, now we know why Jamie is here.”

“Who will do the choosing? Father or Jamie?”

“Jamie, of course.”

Leanas cheeks lost what natural color they possessed. “Then it will be an easy decision, wont it?”

Rose swallowed. “It will?”

“Aye. No choice at all really.” Leana turned toward her, sorrow moving across her features like a cloud blocking the sun. “I'm to marry Mr. McDougal, remember? It's already been arranged. Which means you shall marry Cousin Jamie.”

“At fifteen? I couldn't possibly!” By law, she could. By preference, she could also wait a very long time. “Besides, nothing has been decided. Jamie has a choice, Leana, and he might choose you.”

Must choose you.

“Might he?” Hope filled Leanas face, and Rose realized her sister's feelings already ran deeper than she had suspected.

Perhaps it was not too late then. She would help Leana win Jamie. She
would.
What had she told her sister on Wednesday last? “All is not lost…not until you say, ‘I do.’” Those words had yet to be spoken to Mr. McDougal. It was not too late.

She clasped Leanas cool hands. “It would please you, wouldn't it, to make a life at Glentrool with our cousin and his family?” Rose warmed her words with a hint of persuasion. “You two would make a handsome pair.

“Wheesht! You mustn't say such things.”

“Why, Leana, you're the color of a Provence rose!” She giggled, her old self again. “I'll say anything I like and whisper whatever words need whispering.” Rose pulled her closer and lowered her voice further still. “Promise me you want this match, or I'll not proceed.”

Leana nodded, slowly at first, then with more certainty. “I do want it, very much. Jamie is…well, everything Fergus McDougal is not.” She pinched her trembling lips together and clasped her hands in a tight knot. “Forgive me if that sounds heartless, Rose.”

“Not heartless. Honest.”

“Jamie is intelligent, educated, and knows something of the world. Mr. McDougal is—”

“A dolt.”

Even Leana laughed a little. “As you say, Rose. Jamie is also polite, thoughtful, and a fine gentleman in every sense of the word. And Fergus…1 mean, Mr. McDougal is…”

“None of those things,” Rose finished for her. “Any woman would choose Jamie over such an ugsome man.”

“Aye. But I have no idea if Jamie would choose…that is, if he would find me…” Leana pressed her forehead against Roses shoulder, clearly struggling for every word. “Oh, Rose. All is lost if Father wont change his mind. Yet, if he
would
allow Jamie to court me instead of insisting I marry Mr. McDougal—”

“Say no more. We will pray for that very thing.”

“I must confess, I've already done so.” Leana gendy pulled back from her embrace, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Rose, the night before Jamie arrived I prayed that God might provide a husband for me. A braw man of twenty-odd years with kind eyes and a ready smile whose head rose well above mine and whose smooth brow concealed a fine mind.”

Rose gasped. “Our own Jamie!”

“Aye, Jamie.” Leana bit her lip, then whispered, “I believe God has chosen him for my husband.”

Rose nodded, a burst of energy rushing through her. All was
not
lost. No, indeed. “You will sit by Jamie at kirk in the morns morn, and I will make certain the other lasses do not set their caps for him.”

Leana pressed a damp cheek against hers. “You are generous to help me, Rose. But you ve not shared your own heart. Is Jamie the husband you've always longed for? Has he hinted of his interest in any way?”

“Don't be
sully! Ym
too young to think of marriage. And when I do, I want a whole roomful of choices.”

Leana's gaze searched hers. “You're certain?”

“Very much so.” Rose nodded as emphatically as she could.

“Aye, then.” Leana smoothed her hands across her skirt, her gaze fixed on the door to the spence. “There's only one
ticklerwe
haven't considered: What if Jamie falls in love with
you?”

Alas! to seize the moment
When heart inclines to heart,
And press a suit with passion,
Is not a woman's part.

W
ILLIAM
C
ULLEN
B
RYANT

J
amie, the choice is yours.”

He shrugged. “One is as good as another, Uncle. ”

“Here then.” Lachlan handed him a badly frayed coat. “The one you re wearing will do for the Sabbath, and let the other suffice for the rest of the week.”

Jamie thanked him and folded the unfashionable coat over his arm, a grim reminder of his empty pockets. “Uncle Lachlan, it distresses me to have arrived at your doorstep without gold or silver to my name.”

“You've silver to your name, lad,” Lachlan corrected him. His smile was brief and a bit forced. “Its simply not in your hand.”

Jamie was all too aware of that. It was an awkward way to commence with his future father-in-law, borrowing the mans wardrobe and drinking his claret without offering anything more substantial than a promise to marry one of his daughters. “Shall I write to my father, ask him to send a promissory note?”

“You could.” His uncle paused, one hand on the oak clothes press, the other stroking his closely shaved chin. “I know youre fash, and righdy so, to be robbed twice and left for dead. ‘Tis a hard thing for a McKie to admit he's been routed.”

Jamie brisded. “Hard for any man.”

“Aye, you may be right.” Lachlans gaze wandered to the side, as though he were weighing the merit of some unspoken plan. The ticking of the clock on the chimneypiece filled the weighty silence until he
said, “We'll speak of this again after services. See to my manservant's brush and comb, lad. The chaise is waiting.”

Jamie returned to his lodgings on the second floor and finished his morning ablutions in Roses bedroom. Though she'd been moved next door to share her older sisters box bed, her scent remained, like ling heather fresh from the moors. He took a deep breath, filling his head with her fragrance, his thoughts with her loosome form and face. He'd tried, truly he had, to give both sisters equal consideration. Leana was generous and good but stirred nothing in him. Rose was goodness defined and beauty captured. She stirred everything inside him until his mind spun at the sight of her.

His head was whirring with dreams for Auchengray as well. Duncan and Lachlan had tramped the marches with him, inspecting the fields and flocks, discussing plans for growth and improvement. His clever uncle asked more questions than he answered, yet Jamie couldn't help but share his enthusiasm. The nearby shores of the Solway beckoned any man with a bent to trade fine Scottish wool abroad. Though the house itself was plain and the grounds around it cluttered with too many garden plots, Auchengray was well positioned for expansion, benefiting future generations.