Thorn in My Heart (52 page)

“Jamie. Are you off to breakfast then?”

He did not look at her. “Aye.”

“Please let me join you.” She slipped from the bed, a silhouette in the murky light. “Will you wait while I dress?”

“I'll wait downstairs.” His words were curt, his movement abrupt. He practically threw himself down the stair, then warmed his hands around a cup of steaming tea while he put his emotions in order for the hours and days ahead. He would be polite, but distant. Honest, yet risk nothing. Kind, without being warm. A gendeman, not a husband.

When Leana appeared, her hair neady braided, her dark blue gown complementing her pale skin, he merely nodded in greeting. She took her seat, her expression serene. “Shall we see if their porridge has more to recommend it than the potatoes they dug up for your dinner?”

Jamie looked at her, suppressing a smile with some effort. “Our host
has been instructed to deliver two bowls when you came to the table. Tea and bannocks as well and a rasher of bacon. Will that suffice?”

“More than enough,” she murmured, folding her hands in her lap. “My appetite is easily sated.”

He ignored the teasing comment that sprang to mind—a lovers response, not at all appropriate. Breakfast was served and consumed with little discussion, their napkins put aside within the hour. A long day stretched before them. And, since it was the second of January, an even longer night. He looked at her across the table, hiding his feelings behind a mask of indifference. “What are your plans for the day?”

She did not flinch at the sharpness of his tone. “Whatever you please, Mr. McKie. If it suits you, I would very much like to see what secrets Dumfries might be keeping from us.”

Secrets?
Aye, he had enough for the whole burgh. “And if it does not suit me to accompany you on this cold morning?”

Her smile was sufficient to warm the room. “Then I will gladly pull a chair to the inns hearth and lose myself in a novel.”

He could not keep the surprise out of his voice. “You brought a book for your bridal week?”

“Aye.” She blushed a bit.
“Evelina
, in three volumes. I was not certain how the…weather might be in Dumfries. As well, I cannot remember when I last enjoyed seven days without working.” She stretched, beaming at the handful of patrons scattered about the inns dining room. “ ‘Twill be a luxury to read without some task being thrust into my hands.”

Jamie stared at her, taken aback by her calm, almost confident demeanor. Where was the shy Leana he'd met months ago? She was not cheerful, like Rose, but she seemed most sure of herself for a woman who had no future to speak of. Her manner so intrigued him that, before he could stop himself, he offered to take her on a stroll up and down the streets of Dumfries.

She smiled, amused by something. “I suppose
Evelina
and her adventures might wait until later.” When Leana stood, he did as well. “If you'll kindly retrieve my cloak from our room, Mr. McKie, we can begin at once.”

McKie again.
He pinched back a frown. “What happened to Jamie ?

“I've been asking myself that all morning,” she said evenly, her blue gaze fixed on his. “Your formal tone and cold reception suggested I might best treat you as a stranger. For you see, I have one ambition this week, and that is to please you so completely that you cannot imagine life without me.”

Stunned, he fell back into his seat. “Then our goals are quite at odds.”

“I am not surprised.” She sighed, as though clearing her thoughts, then turned toward the door. “Shall we walk out then?”

A courting term.
Indeed, that's how it felt, as though they were courting. But that was impossible. He was married to the woman…or
not
married, if things could not be smoothed over with the kirk session. He was bedding her, yet she called him
Mr. McKie.
A most unsettling situation. Shaking his head, he hastened up the stair for her cloak and returned to find her waiting for him by the door, which was propped open to welcome the gentry to the King's Arms.

They fell in step, climbing up the High Street. Though it was cold, no bitter wind tore at their scarves. Instead, they kept a leisurely pace and poked their heads into every establishment with a yawning door. Leana, more at ease than he could ever remember, carried on intelligent conversations with glove makers and apothecaries, greeted fishermen avoiding their boats—for all men of the sea agreed that Fridays bore naught but ill luck—and chatted with opinionated writers at the next table when they stopped at the George Inn for a dinner of roast lamb.

Leana did not flirt with men, as Rose did without meaning to. Instead, she engaged merchants and tradesmen in thoughtful dialogue, asking perceptive questions. Leana had Lachlan's mind for business but none of his devious ways. No wonder Duncan sought her counsel with the ledgers at Martinmas.

By day's end she was no more bonny than at the start of it, but Jamie found himself smiling when he should look grim and praising her when he meant to be silent. Supper was a pleasant plate of broth and bread before they retired and found themselves huddled beneath the
bed blankets earlier than he'd intended. When he reached for her in the darkness, her response was immediate, her love for him undeniable, though he took care not to speak her name nor whisper any endearments. It was true; he appreciated her attentions. But he did not love her, not in the least.

Saturday he slipped out before she awoke, leaving behind a note advising her to spend the day with
Evelina
while he attended to business. It was a ridiculous ploy; he had no business in Dumfries. He simply could not bear another day of misery, torn between his will and his desire, between what he knew to be proper and what he knew to be honest. He returned to the Kings Arms very late to find Leana fast asleep, her book still clasped in her hands, her candle guttering. Relieved, he undressed quickly, only to have her open one eye and smile at him. “Come to bed,” she whispered, and he did.

The Sabbath morning dawned cold and damp, a steady rain overnight saturating the air. Seagulls soared above the High Street, their long, mournful cries a sad, two-note melody, then a series of short calls, as though the birds had changed their minds and started laughing.

Jamie glanced at Leana as they walked down the sloping street toward Saint Michaels kirk, wondering if she'd noticed the gulls as well and heard the irony in their call. She tipped her head back to watch them swooping back and forth. “Are they sad or happy, do you think?”

Leana missed very litde. “I suspect they are both,” he said.
Like us.

The kirk bells began ringing on both ends of the High Street—one for the New Church, as the townsfolk called it, the other for Saint Michaels. Jamie had planned to hear Dr. Burnside at the New Church, but Leana had assured Neda they would worship at Saint Michaels, so he obliged. A small compromise. It was not the kirk in Newabbey, so it hardly mattered. They would see no familiar faces, and their visit would be quickly forgotten.

They stepped aside to make way for a carriage when the heel of her boot caught on a crack in the paved street, and Leana pitched forward. Without hesitating, Jamie slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him to keep her from falling onto the muddy street. He held
her only for a moment until she righted herself but long enough to flood his mind with vivid images. His resolution to make her bridal week a miserable one was crumbling like Nedas shortbread.

Four more nights and it would end, forever.

It was best that way; it was right. Rose was still his first love, his only love. He would remind himself of that until he held the young lass in his arms.

I've done my duty, and I've done no more.

H
ENRY
F
IELDING

T
hey climbed the steps to Saint Michaels, its kirkyard littered with immense gravestones in chaotic array all the way to the front door. As befitted the custom of kirkin, Jamie had walked Leana direcdy there without taking any side streets and arrived after the service had well begun. With some reluctance, he offered her his arm before they entered, bewildered by her eagerness to observe the tradition when it was for naught.

She tucked her hand in place, close to his heart, and they stepped through the doors. Every head turned, though only for a brief second. The two were strangers, a perfecdy ordinary husband and wife come shamefully late to service. One couple did not turn back though. They smiled and waved the two of them forward.

Leanas eyes widened. “Neda!” she whispered. “Duncan!”

Jamie's jaw tightened at the sight of the overseers lanky frame.
Duncan Hastings.
The one man from Auchengray who could break down his defenses with a single kind word.

Leana dragged him forward to the pew where the couple sat waiting. It was the custom for the bridegrooms good friend to come to the kirkin, and the brides favorite as well, though they'd hardly expected them so far from home.

“We had to come,” Neda explained in hushed tones, seating the couple between them, then squeezing Leanas hand in greeting. “Quiet now, and give the Almighty his due.”

Jamie merely nodded at Duncan, not quite meeting the man's piercing blue gaze.

‘O Eternal God and most merciful Father,” the minister intoned,
“we confess and acknowledge here before thy Divine Majesty that we are miserable sinners.”

Jamie bowed his head and felt Leana do die same, dieir shoulders and knees brushing against each other in the crowded pew.
A sinner.
Aye, Leana was that. The worst kind of sinner: pretending she was innocent. Convincing herself on his wedding night that he loved her, wanted her, welcomed her as his bride.

Yet the more he tried to tally Leana's flagrant transgressions, the more his own assaulted him. He'd sinned when he'd asked Leana to serve as a proxy bride, too impatient to wait for Rose and not caring that the lass might miss her own wedding. He'd sinned when he'd kissed Leana too thoroughly, danced with her too gaily, drunk too freely, and enjoyed her body so completely. The last was her sin as well, but try as he might, he could not put all the blame on her shoulders.

He'd sinned again by agreeing to Lachlan's despicable plans for his daughters so he might claim Rose for his bride, not caring what it might cost the two women. Selfish. Thoughdess.
Sinner.

Not Leana.
You, Jamie.

And those were far from his first sins. He'd sinned when he'd bartered a birthright. He'd sinned when he'd stolen a brother's blessing. He'd sinned when he'd deceived a beloved father.

Forgive me.
He'd said the words by rote hundreds of times.
Forgive me.
Yet this time the tightness in his chest was real, and his plea came from not only his lips but his heart as well.
Forgive me.
Bent with the weight of his shame, his forehead nearly touched the pew before him.

He felt more than heard the answer:
Behold, I am with you.

Nae.
Jamie pressed his lips into a hard line, fighting against the very mercy he'd pleaded for. How could Almighty God remain by his side when he couldn't live with himself?

The minister droned on, yet his words were alive. “Nothing is able to remove thy heavenly grace and favor from us. To thee, therefore, O Father, with the Son and the Holy Ghost, be all honor and glory, world without end. So be it.”

“So be it,” the congregation responded.

Can it be?
Jamie lifted his head, troubled by a promise of favor that required nothing of him. He'd stolen a blessing from his father. Was it right to steal one from God as well?

The precentor led the parishioners in a hymn, familiar yet not. The tune was the same, but the words had been altered in the new edition of the
Paraphrases
, forcing him to listen carefully. On his left Leana sang with a steady voice, seemingly unaffected by the words. For him they struck too close a chord.

Aye, far too close. He'd run away from home and found himself up to his ankles in sheep dung. His pockets were empty of silver and his heart full of misery, some of it by his doing. If God was with him, then why had his troubles increased tenfold? His stomach churning, Jamie was grateful when the many verses were finished and even more relieved to have the sermon and prayers over and find himself standing beneath a gray January sky again, his temporary anguish left behind in the pew.

“May we treat ye both to a kirkin feast?” Duncan asked when they reached the High Street. “Our coin won't stretch far enough to cover the fare at the King's Arms, but we might be able to feed ye proper at the Hole i’ the Wa. Will that suit?”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed, resigned to play the part of the doting husband, if only for the afternoon. The foursome enjoyed a simple meal at the old inn, then a long winter's walk. It was three o'clock before Duncan and Neda rode off for Auchengray, Neda's skirts modesdy kilted about her. Jamie waved them off with Leana by his side, then steered her through the inn door toward a warm hearth, for the air had grown frosty.

“I'm glad they came,” she admitted, climbing the steps by his side. “I fear that when we return to Auchengray, nothing will be the same.”

He paused on the stair, firmly grasping her elbow. “It cannot be the
same, Leana. I am doing my duty here, nothing more. See that you dont pretend otherwise, or you will be sorely disappointed.”

She lowered her gaze and her voice as well. “You could never disappoint me, Jamie. My expectations are such that anything you do delights me.”

Such a woman did not make spurning her easy. Pleasant by day and passionate by night, she was the answer to every mans prayers except his, constandy putting his resolve to the test. One minute he was grateful for her companionship; the next he was furious for allowing himself even the smallest measure of enjoyment. Wednesday night arrived too soon, yet Thursday could not come quickly enough to end his misery.