Thorn in My Heart (27 page)

She'd told herself that Jamie, a handsome, intelligent young man, would choose a plain woman over a beautiful one.

She'd convinced herself that when he smiled at her, it meant he cared for her. That when he'd caught her elbow on the stair, it was because he wanted to touch her.

She'd assumed that if she let him see her heart, he would want it for his own.

But Jamie wanted Rose. She saw that now, in the warm glow of his eyes as he gazed at her sister, in the curve of his mouth when Rose said his name.

Jamie.

He wasn't looking for a woman to cook or stitch or spin wool or plant a garden. He wanted Rose, a bonny young lass who could not help but learn to love him.

I would love you, Jamie.
The pain in her chest was unbearable.
I would, I would.

“I would like to make an announcement, if I may.” Fergus McDou-gal's voice pierced her thoughts, pulling her back to the table, back to the present with its cold, hard truth. He smiled at her with his stained teeth and his knowing gaze and his sagging jowls. “What I am about to say will be a surprise to no one at this table.”

Leana was on her feet before she realized it. “I…forgive me, Father.” She ran from the room, nearly knocking over Willie and his tall glasses of syllabub, then flung herself out the front door. Looking wildly about, she stumbled down the grassy path toward the road to Newabbey, stopping halfway, bent in two with pain.

Please, God.

Jamie was the man she had prayed for. Not Fergus.

She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, ashamed of the stubborn tears that would not stop, and wandered aimlessly toward the orchard. Perhaps she would lose herself among the trees. What she would
not
do was go back and sit across the table from three men who neither knew nor loved her. Fergus saw only her useful parts—her hands, her body—but not her heart. Her father saw her as livestock, to be traded or sold as needed. And Jamie saw her not at all.

Leana hid inside a cherry tree's woody embrace and waited for who knew what. Would it be her father storming out the door, breathing threats? Her sister, knowing all too well the situation, anxious to dry her tears? Or her suitor—the word felt like a cherry pit in her mouth— demanding an apology for something he couldn't possibly comprehend?

The front door opened quiedy. It was Jamie.

He walked direcdy toward the orchard, as though he knew where to find her, his steps quickening until he reached her side. Softly he touched her hand, eyes filled with sympathy. “Leana.” His voice was like a shepherds comforting a newborn lamb. “Leana, I'm sorry.”

“Sorry?” She turned away to hide her tears. Jamie had done nothing to hurt her, not on purpose. “Why are
you
sorry?”

“Because I…” He sighed heavily. “Because.”

She felt a lightness in her chest, a tiny flicker of hope. Might he care after all? Did he regret favoring Rose with his attentions? Leana turned toward him, lifting her chin, hiding nothing. “Jamie, I thought…” She swallowed hard. “I'd hoped…”

But there was no hope in his eyes. It was more like pity. “I truly am sorry, Leana.”

“Jamie…” Overcome, she fell forward, her head pressed against his shoulder. “Oh, Jamie!”

She felt his hand touch the back of her head, smoothing her hair, and could not stop herself from pressing against his palm. “Why did they send
you
to find me?” she whispered.

“They didn't send me.” Jamie shifted his hands to her arms, holding her steady as he leaned back a bit to look at her. His mouth hinted at a smile. “I just move faster.”

The front door exploded open. Lachlan. Fergus. Angry shouts flew toward the orchard like two carrion crows on the wing railing at each other with their deep, hoarse calls.

Leana stepped away from Jamie's innocent embrace, but it was too late.

“Do you see?” Fergus shouted, waving his dinner napkin like a flag as he marched toward them. “Do you see your daughter in another man's arms?”

“He is her cousin,” Lachlan barked, close on the man's heels. “Nothing more.”

Both men reached her side and stood a handbreadth apart, their faces the color of beets. They had not come to blows, but it appeared they'd considered it. Their eyes bored into hers, their fury aimed in a fresh direction.

She sensed Jamie behind her, closing the gap. A wall of support. He spoke first. “Gendemen, I found my cousin weeping in the orchard. My uncle is right: I meant only to comfort her. Surely you can see—”

“I see a woman who has thoroughly rejected my proposal of marriage.” Fergus McDougals eyes protruded more than usual, and he spewed spitde when he spoke. “Three times I've called on you, Miss McBride, and three times I've been less than warmly received.” He yanked on his waistcoat, his hands shaking with rage. “Nae, three times I've been made to feel a
fool.”

Leana lowered her gaze. She could not argue with a man who spoke the truth.

As he gathered steam, his neck seemed to thicken. “You have no regard for me and even less for your fathers wishes. Did he not assure me you were the agreeable sort? Aye, he did! The very words he said were, ‘She'll lift nary a finger nor a word against you.’ Yet you rudely abandoned me at this table on two occasions, the last to consort with your lover in the orchard—”

“Nae!He
is not my…” She could not even say the word. “Please, you must not think that of me or of my cousin.”

Fergus ignored her, shaking his fists over his head in a fit of exasperation. “What…what sort of example would you set for my children?”

Before she could answer, he threw his napkin to the ground. “I will
not
have it!” His voice was at a fever pitch. “I'll not have
you
, Miss McBride. I withdraw my offer of marriage. You have been unfaithful to me before our vows were even spoken.” The laird of Nethercarse spun on his heel and addressed her father, who'd waited through it all with a chilling lack of response. “My factor will see my silver returned without delay. Good day to you, sir.”

Fergus marched toward the stables. The silence in his wake was thunderous.

When Leana tried to speak, Lachlan lifted his hand to quell her, then hissed through clenched teeth, “Silence!”

She had never in her twenty years seen her father so livid. Behind her, Jamie whispered, “Shall I stay?”

Her father answered for her, his voice low and even. “You shall not, Nephew. None of this concerns you. Leana, you will follow me.”

The warmth of Jamie's presence faded as she moved away from him and hurried after her father, whose belligerent stride carried him swiftly across the lawn, through the house, and into the spence.

He paced around the small room, clenching his hands, then releasing them, not even looking in her direction. The minutes dragged on while she locked her knees to keep from crumpling to the floor. Finally her father stood before her, his face a stone fortress. Gray, menacing, grim.

“Do you ken what your careless behavior has cost me, Leana?”

She did not know, not fully. He'd never shared the terms of his arrangement with Fergus McDougal. She offered the safest response she could think of. “Too much.”

“Aye, a good deal too much.” He splayed the fingers of his left hand and counted his losses for her. “Silver coin and black catde. The friendship of a fellow landowner. The respect of my servants. The regard of our neighbors most of all.”

Her father's temper could not always be explained. But this time she understood. “You have every reason to be furious with me, Father.”

“Be sure of it, I am.” His voice was low, but the intensity of it made her tremble. “You! My
bowsome
, obedient daughter. I might have expected such shameless behavior from your sister. But never from you, Leana.” He gripped her shoulders, shaking her slighdy, forcing her to meet his hard gaze. “You, who favor your mother in so many ways, God rest her soul. Agness McBride would ne'er have treated me so ill.”

He'd cut her to the quick. “I'm sorry, Father.”

“As well you should be.” He dropped his hands, his gaze shifting to the window that faced the road to Newabbey. “Before the sun sets, the whole parish will be blethering about Lachlan's daughter being put aside for…improprieties.”

“Oh, Father.” A tear slipped out. Without meaning to, she'd put in motion a dreadful turn of events. “What…what will become of me?”

He shook his head, his back still toward her. “I cannot say. But I fear you will not like it.”

“You
do
know, Father, that nothing…that Jamie…”

“Aye.” He grunted. “Its clear where his affections lie, and they are not with you.”

She shuddered at the truth spoken so coldly.

“Jamie is a foolish young man with much to learn.” He sighed, his frustration clear. “As long as he is under my roof, the burden of teaching him falls on my shoulders.”

Leana sank into a chair. And what lessons had she learned that bitter morning? That her eyes were weak, but her heart was blind, seeing only what it wanted to see. That desire and duty were two very different things. And that a single careless action could ruin everything.
Not everything, Leana. You.
It was true; she was ruined. Her body was still pure, but her reputation would soon be soiled by Fergus McDougal.

God, help me.

All at once she saw what she must do. She reached for her father's hand as a drowning woman grasps at reeds. “Father,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers, “will you help me?”

Perhaps the strain in her voice caught his ear. When he turned to look at her once more, his stony features softened ever so slightly. “Now, now, Leana. After a time the gossips will find another morsel to chew on.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, lass, you will quiedy go about your days and do as I ask, knowing I have your best interests in mind. Aye?”

“Aye,” she agreed, though she feared he had only his interests in mind. Still, the dreadful possibility of marriage to Fergus McDougal was no more. If she could not have Jamie, at least she would not have Fergus.

“ ‘Tis my responsibility, Leana, to see that you're wed. I'll not shirk my duties. When the time comes, see that you don't shirk yours.”

“Choose whom you will to woo me, Father.” She blinked away a stray tear and offered a tentative smile. “I'll not disappoint you again.”

Dismissed with an abrupt gesture, Leana released his hand and headed for her room, anxious to be alone with her thoughts. Neda met her at the landing, her face covered with concern. “Rose is off helpin
Duncan with the sheep. She bade me give ye this.” Neda pressed a paper into her hands, then hastened down the stair.

Leana waited until she was safely curled up in her reading chair before unfolding the sealed note. Penned in Rose's flowery handwriting, it contained four brief phrases: “You have not said, ‘I do.’ Nor have I. All is not lost. Wait and see.”

In Heavens happy bowers
There blossom two flowers;
One with fiery glow
And one as white as snow;
While lo! before them stands,
With pale and trembling hands,
A spirit who must choose
One, and one refuse.

R
ICHARD
W
ATSON
G
ILDER

T
he thought of wooing a woman made Jamie's mouth go dry and his hands turn as cold as the rushing waters of Buchan Burn.

He had danced with women, shared formal dinners and sunlit walks across the moors with them, stolen kisses from them. Ladies noticed him more often than he paid attention to them, so wooing and winning a woman had never been a tickler. Until now, until Rose McBride, whose innocence required that he be the one to risk all and make his intentions clear.

He thought he'd made them abundandy clear, but her actions piped another tune. If anything, Leana had been more attentive than Rose, without any encouragement from him. Aye, he'd gone to look for Leana in the orchard—someone had to—and had offered his support when her father and her betrothed did their best to destroy her. An ugly scene. It had ended badly, especially for his cousin. His uncle would have a devil of a time finding someone to marry her if the gossips had their way.

But that was Lachlans concern, not his.

It was Rose he intended to marry and Rose's heart that must be wooed.

If only his mother were at Auchengray. Rowena McKie would have
known the ideal spot, the right word, the proper touch. With his mothers guidance, Rose would be won in an afternoon. “A rich mans wooing is seldom long o’ doing,” his mother had once told him. Longer than a week, it seemed. However many days or weeks it took, he had no doubt he would succeed.

Sensing a servants quiet presence in the room, Jamie glanced over his shoulder to find Hugh, his uncles valet of many years, waiting patiendy in the doorway. “Come, man, do something with this unruly hair of mine. Perhaps a fresh shave would be in order.”

“Aye, sir. Yer beard's a stubborn one. If ye ve wooin in mind, ye best have a smooth cheek.”

Jamie merely nodded. No point pretending things were otherwise. As at Glentrool, the servants at Auchengray missed nary an intrigue beneath their laird's roof. He removed his waistcoat, cravat, and shirt, then seated himself at Rose's feminine dressing table, feeling slighdy ridiculous. “Get on with it, man. I have much to accomplish.”

“Aye.” Hugh had come prepared. Emptying his pockets, then making use of the pitcher of hot water he'd brought with him, he efficiendy lathered Jamie's face with a heath-scented soap and began his ministrations with a sharp razor and a steady hand. Minutes later Jamie smoothed a hand over his jaw, pleased with the results, while Hugh made quick work with a comb, gathering Jamie's dark brown hair in a sleek tail behind his neck and tying it in place with a narrow bit of silk.

“Time for yer shirt, sir.” Hugh dressed him with minimal fuss, brushing off the last crumbs of dinner from his breeches and giving his much-worn waistcoat a tidy look. “Now to your neckcloth.” The manservant tied the cravat with nimble fingers, pressed it in place, then stepped back to view his handiwork. His smile was more affirming than any looking glass. “The lady will be won from the first, Mr. McKie. Have no fear of it.”