Amanda Scott (52 page)

Her round face and large, almost circular, dark blue eyes gave her a baby-faced look. Her tip-tilted nose was small, neat, and adorable; and her full, pouty lips and round cheeks owed their deep rosy color to nature rather than to rouge. Her chin, too, was softly rounded, and her smile, when she chose to display it, was wide and revealed small, even, sparkling white teeth.

Bridget’s body was all gentle curves from her full, plump bosom to her tiny waist and flaring hips. Her hands and the neatly shod feet peeping beneath the hem of her gown as she walked were small and dainty, her fingernails neatly rounded at the ends and delicately pink. Her skin was rosy and smooth, without a blemish. She would undoubtedly grow plumper with age and look more like Michael remembered their mother looking, but at present, she was undeniably lovely. Unless, of course, one considered her temperament.

As she strode into the room, the dog rose with graceful dignity tinged by wariness to watch her.

Lady Bridget said sharply, “Stay, Cailean! Don’t touch my gown. Michael, do you like this dress? You’d better. It is the only silk one I own.”

He repressed a surge of irritation, knowing full well that she did not care what he thought of the green-and-white-striped gown she wore, although its overdress, opening as it did in a vee down the low, square-necked bodice and falling away at her impossibly narrow waist to expose an underdress of sunshine-yellow satin, was extremely becoming. Exerting himself to sound more patient than he felt, he said, “You cannot have a new dress, Bridget. I’m sorry, but I thought I explained my reasons clearly the last time you asked me.”

“Michael, you’ve simply got to be reasonable. I’ve written to Aunt Marsali, as you know, for you gave my letter to Mr. Cameron yourself before he left to visit his brother in Edinburgh. In any event, you did not say that I must not write to her.”

“Why on earth would I forbid you to write to our aunt?”

“Well, you didn’t, that’s all, and you must have known that I would be asking her to take me to parties this spring, for she promised that she would do so when I grew old enough, and I have decided that I am, so I simply must go to Edinburgh this year.”

“Bridget, we have had this conversation too many times. Even if I agreed that you are old enough, which I do not, I cannot afford to send you to Edinburgh.”

Her lovely eyes welled with tears. “But how will I ever get married if I never meet anyone? You never think about me, Michael. You think only about your stupid dogs and this horrid, drafty, decrepit old castle, and never, never about me!”

Her voice had risen alarmingly, and he spoke quietly in an effort to calm her. “I do think about you all the time,” he said, “but it is my duty as chief of our clan to think about all our people, and about Mingary.”

She stamped one small foot. “But what about
me
?”

He remembered the letter. “I received another offer for your hand.”

Her neatly arched eyebrows snapped together in a scowl. “Another one? Dare I ask if this one, like all the others, comes from Sir Renfrew Campbell?”

“It does,” he said evenly.

“I am surprised that you do not simply order me to marry him,” she snapped. “You would then be rid of me, at all events.”

Goaded, he said, “He wants my forests still, for his damned bloomery.”

Her chin rose. “You should not use such language in my presence, sir.”

Her sudden hauteur nearly made him smile. He said, “You are quite right. I should not. I beg your pardon.”

She grimaced, tossing her head. Then, looking at him more narrowly, her voice laced with suspicion, she said, “You are not begging my pardon because you mean to make me marry that horrid creature, are you?”

He sighed. “No, Bridget, I will not make you marry him.”

“Good, because he is horrid and cruel, not to mention old enough to be our father. I daresay that, if the truth were known, he murdered his first wife.”

“He did no such thing, and I hope you have not spouted such gibberish to all and sundry,” Michael said curtly.

She shrugged.

“Look here, Bridget, you know that I owe Campbell a good deal of money, do you not?”

“It is not your debt,” she said, tossing her head again. “Everyone knows that it was Papa who borrowed that money from him. I do not see why you should have to pay him a penny. When Papa died, by rights the debt should have died with him.”

“You know that is not how such things work. I inherited our father’s debts just as surely as I inherited Mingary. It is my lawful duty to repay Campbell in full.” He did not add that he had no notion of how he was going to do so.

“Then pay it,” she snapped. “I am sure it is no concern of mine, Michael, and I find it quite tediously boring always to be hearing how poor we are. You have said that Sir Renfrew wants the forests. Why do you not just sell them to him?”

“Because I do not want him to burn them if there is any way to save them,” he said. “Already quite half of the Highland forests are gone, and in any case, he is willing to forgive only half of the debt in return for them.”

“Then
tell
him he must forgive the
whole
debt,” she said, flinging her arms wide. “Really, Michael, that seems quite ridiculously simple to me. Indeed, if you were at all wise about such things, you would tell him that he can have only half the forestlands as payment for the whole debt, and then make him pay good Scots silver for the rest of what he wants. If you did that, sir, I could go to Edinburgh for weeks and weeks and wear lots of pretty dresses.”

“Bridget, even you must see that I cannot force him to accept my valuation of the forests or the land. I have only until the third anniversary of our father’s death to repay the debt, and I cannot demand terms of him that he is unwilling to grant.”

“The third anniversary!” Her eyes grew wide. “But it will be three years on the first of June, Michael. That’s less than two months away.”

“Yes, I know. So you see—”

“You will just have to sell the dogs,” she said flatly.

“Even if I could do that—”

“But why can’t you? You are forever telling me how extremely valuable they are, that at one time a single leash of deerhounds was the fine whereby a noble lord condemned to death might purchase his reprieve! You just don’t want to sell them, Michael. You care more for your dogs than you do for me!”

Coldly, Michael said, “If I do, it is because they are better behaved.” He was sorry for the words, however, the instant they left his mouth.

Bridget’s generous bosom swelled with indignation. “How dare you say such a horrid thing!”

“I should not have said it, but it is very often true, Bridget, and if you want to find a gentleman willing to marry you one day, you must learn to think occasionally of someone other than yourself.”

“I do think of others! At least, I would if I ever saw anyone else to think about. But thanks to you, I never do. I am stuck here in this horrid pile of rocks for months on end, without a single, solitary person to talk to, Michael.”

“You exaggerate, my dear. There are any number of people here to talk to.”

“Oh, servants,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Not just servants,” he said, keeping his temper with difficulty. “We are surrounded by kinsmen and—”

“But not real people,” she said. “Not people of our own class, Michael, and if you think for one minute that having rejected Sir Renfrew Campbell I am going to marry one of our tenants, when you are forever telling me that they cannot even pay to rent the lands they work, like other people’s tenants do nowadays—”

“I do not mean for you to marry any of them,” he said. “When the time does come for you to marry, there is no reason that you should not marry well.”

“Well, I don’t see why I shouldn’t if you would just buy me some proper clothing and let me go to Edinburgh,” she said, reverting to her original objective. “This is the best dress I own, sir, and just look at it!”

“I cannot send you to Edinburgh now. Perhaps someday, but—”

“You could if you’d sell one of your stupid dogs.”

Michael sighed. “I keep telling you that I cannot get enough money to repay the debt by selling the dogs. I have explained the law of exclusive proprietorship to you, have I not?”

She glared at him. “That is the stupid law which says that no one of lower rank than an earl or a clan chief may own a deerhound, is it not?”

“Yes. So you see—”

“I quite see that it is a stupid law, and I do not see why anyone should have to obey laws that are stupid. Surely, someone would buy one and not tell.”

“Some of us are working to change the law, but I do not intend to break it, and that is not the point just now, in any case. Presently, I know of only one man who wants to buy a dog from me. Unfortunately, the one he wants is Cailean, and I am not willing to sell him merely to frank your expenses in Edinburgh.”

“But—”

“No, Bridget. I don’t deny that among the many ways I have considered to repay the debt, I’ve included the possibility of arranging a marriage for you, but—”

“I will not marry that horrid man.”

“Despite your obvious assumption that I have seriously considered such a course, my dear, you are still much too young to marry anyone.”

“That is preposterous, Michael. Our mother was no older than I am when Papa married her.”

“That is quite true,” he said, regarding her thoughtfully. There was a notion that had occurred to him, more than once, but before now he had dismissed it out of hand, believing that she was too young for marriage.

“I know what you should do,” she exclaimed. “You should marry an heiress yourself, Michael! That would solve all our problems, would it not?”

“It would,” he agreed. “Unfortunately, I do not know of any heiress whose family would welcome a penniless earl with lands mortgaged to the last dirt clod, who will lose all he owns if she does not instantly pay his debts for him.”

“Nonsense, there must be at least one who would marry you for your title alone,” Bridget said. “I don’t say she would be well born, necessarily, but that need not count with you, after all. There are tradesmen’s daughters, surely—”

His voice cold again, Michael said, “Even if I could find such a person before Campbell takes all I own, I would not bring her into this family. I owe more to our ancient line than to taint it with unsuitable blood, Bridget. You refuse to count even our kinsmen as persons to whom you will condescend to speak. How would it be if you could not bring yourself to speak to my wife?”

“Well, it would be very hard,” she agreed, “but if she were rich you would have plenty of money to send me to Edinburgh, and I could just stay with Aunt Marsali until I find a proper husband. So you see, Michael—”

“What I see is that you are making it easier for me to consider a possibility I had until now dismissed as unconscionable,” he said grimly. “However, if you truly think yourself old enough to marry, I will look into that possibility. Indeed, I’ll tell you to your head, Bridget, that right now, if I thought sending you to Edinburgh would result in a timely and advantageous marriage for you, I’d do it.”

“Oh, Michael, it would! You’ll see. Oh, pray send me!”

“Unfortunately,” he said dryly, “I doubt that a single visit of several weeks would be sufficient for you to snare a husband on your own, if, indeed, you can ever manage to do so. Nevertheless, with so little time left before June first, arranging an advantageous marriage for you may be the only option remaining to me. Indeed, had I thought you old enough…Ah, but I have already neglected the matter too long.”

“Not Sir Renfrew!”

“No, I am not so cruel, lass, nor would Scottish law allow me to arrange any marriage to which you objected. But if you are willing…I had thought the cause lost, you see,” he added quietly. “But it is quite true that arranging a marriage for you could well prove the one route by which I can still win free. It occurred to me some time ago that there is a family that might be willing to ally itself with ours.”

“What family? Who?”

“First, you must understand that the most important goal of such a marriage must be to pay off the debt to Sir Renfrew Campbell, and to do so in such a way that would prevent him from making further trouble for us.”

“He is very powerful,” Bridget said. “All the Campbells are powerful.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “They became so by siding with the English during the Risings, before you were born.”

“You were only a boy then, yourself,” she pointed out defensively.

“Yes, and our clan was not one that fought for the prince,” he said. “But neither did we fight against him or provide support of any kind to the English. Our isolation here helped us then. As to the Campbells, they were powerful before the Risings, and became more powerful afterward. That is why our wisest move now would be to ally ourselves with them if we can.”

“But you said—”

“I said I would not force you to marry Sir Renfrew. I don’t even propose to marry you to a Campbell, merely to ally ourselves with one of the most powerful of them all, a close connection of the Duke of Argyll.”

“But if he is not a Campbell, then how—”

“His guardian is the Earl of Balcardane,” Michael said, “but the lad, as it happens, is a distant kinsman of our own. He is the young MacCrichton.”

“Is he handsome?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I have never met him, but he is only four years older than you are, so I daresay you will deal well enough with him. If you really are willing, I could go to Balcardane Castle at once to put the matter to the earl. As you say, my title must be worth something. Moreover, I can offer to settle a third of my land on you, and to bequeath you the rest if I should die without issue.”

Her eyes widened. “All the land? To me? Can you do that?”

“Yes, because I agreed to break the entail when our father mortgaged everything with Sir Renfrew. The likelihood of your inheriting the estate is quite small, though, you know.”

“But even if they agreed to a marriage and repaid your debt, you would still be poor, and you would own a third less land than what you own now,” she pointed out, adding complacently, “so very likely you will never marry. How soon can we go to Balcardane Castle?”