Her Highness and the Highlander: A Princess Brides Romance (35 page)

Instead, he did nothing.

Instead, he let her turn and leave the room with her friends.

Mercedes knew immediately that she should go back to Daniel, just as she knew that
she ought to have told them all that he was her husband. When she’d first arrived,
she’d been ready, even excited, to do exactly that. Then her father had walked through
the doorway.

To say she had been surprised to see him was an understatement. Not once in all the
years she had been at the academy had he made the journey north to see her. But suddenly
there he had been. And when he’d sat beside her and coaxed her ever so gently to recount
the horrific events that had turned her life on its ears, something inside her had
unraveled. In those fragile moments as she’d relived the attack, she’d felt like a
child again, her papa there to soothe her wounds.

Then he’d urged her to go upstairs to rest, and like the obedient daughter she had
always been, she did as she was told without questioning the command. It was what
she did around her father: she obeyed.

But then she’d seen Daniel looking at her, clearly waiting for her to tell her friends
and her father about their marriage.
But as she gathered herself to make the most important announcement of her life, she’d
caught her father’s gaze again and lost her nerve.

She loved her father, and he loved her; of that she had no doubt. But for all his
attempts to be a fair-minded and beneficent monarch, he was still an autocrat and
a highly intimidating man. He was used to getting his own way and did not like being
opposed on even the smallest of matters.

Surprising him with news of her impromptu wedding needed a deft hand and a measure
of appropriate timing. Those final moments in the drawing room had not met either
criterion.

But then there had been Daniel.

Oh, his face.

He had looked expectant, then confused, then worst of all—wounded and angry.

Part of her had hoped he would take the burden off her shoulders—timing or no timing—and
just blurt out the news. She’d been ready to run to his side and stick close by while
the verbal arrows flew back and forth, as she knew they would.

But he hadn’t. He’d just stood there, an ashen cast sliding over his features, his
expression suddenly cold and withdrawn in a way she had never seen it.

He’d refused to look at her again, and she trembled at the memory. Clearly she had
hurt him, when she hadn’t meant to do so at all.

But she would talk to him as soon as possible, to explain her hesitation and reassure
him that she was just waiting for the right moment to break the news. Then somehow
she would gather the necessary nerve and seek out her father to tell him that she
loved Daniel, that they were married, and that she hoped he would accept their union,
even if he couldn’t find it in his heart to give them his blessing—although she hoped
he would.

“Mercedes, are you certain you’re all right?” Emma said as
the three of them—she, Ariadne, and Emma—went inside the bedchamber that had been
chosen for her stay.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She crossed to the small pale yellow damask-upholstered settee and
sank down on it.
Or at least I shall be once I can talk to Daniel again.

“Because you look quite pale,” Emma continued, “which doesn’t surprise me given everything
you’ve been through.”

“Yes,” Ariadne said, “you must promise to let us pamper you outrageously.”

“How could I possibly refuse pampering?” Mercedes replied with a smile, which faded
as quickly as it had appeared.

Her thoughts went again to Daniel and the expression she’d seen on his face when she’d
left him downstairs. A peculiar chill rippled over her skin, leaving gooseflesh behind.
Without a word, she leapt to her feet and moved across the room to the bell pull.

Emma looked concerned. “What is it? You’re not feeling a swoon coming on, are you?
You know how I detest hartshorn, but I’m sure some could be found, if necessary.”

Mercedes turned and shook her head with exasperation. “No, I do not need hartshorn.
If I didn’t swoon when I fled for my life from murderous highwaymen or again when
my carriage was waylaid as part of an attempted kidnapping, I hardly think I’m in
danger of fainting in one of your guest bedchambers.”

Emma appeared startled and perhaps a bit offended by her outburst, while Ariadne seemed
surprised and, if she wasn’t mistaken, impressed.

“Then why did you ring the bell?” Ariadne asked, her pale eyebrow raised with obvious
curiosity.

But before Mercedes had time to answer, a quiet knock sounded against the door, and
a housemaid stepped inside. She bobbed a respectful curtsey to the three of them.
“I was summoned. How may I be of service?”

“Yes, it was I who rang,” Mercedes said, giving the girl a friendly smile. “Would
you please have word sent to Major
MacKinnon that Princess Mercedes would like to speak with him and could he please
wait on her as soon as is convenient?”

The girl’s dark brows drew together. “You’re speaking of the Scottish gentleman who
was in the drawing room earlier, are ye, Your Highness?”

“Yes, exactly. Please find out which bedchamber he is in and have a message taken
to him directly.”

“Oh, but he isn’t here.”

Mercedes stared. “What do you mean, he isn’t here? Where else could he be?”

“He left, a short time after you came upstairs with Their Highnesses. I saw Mr. Symms
let him out the front door myself.”

Air whooshed out of Mercedes’s lungs, her pulse hammering out a disquieting beat.
“Did he say when he might return?” she asked, her voice strangely high.

“No, Your Highness. I am sorry but he didn’t say anything at all when he departed.
He just left.”

Mercedes reached out and gripped a nearby chair. Maybe she could use some hartshorn
after all.

“Thank you,” she said, finding her voice and her resolve again. “Please be so good
as to inform me when he returns.”

If he returns.

But she wouldn’t let herself think such dire thoughts. He had been hurt and angry
and had simply left to take the edge off his temper. He would be back, hopefully in
time for dinner, and then they would talk.

And if he doesn’t come back tonight?

The idea made her knees go weak. Turning, she returned to her place on the settee
and sat gratefully down. She heard Emma tell the maid to have tea and a light meal
sent up, and then the three of them were alone again.

Emma and Ariadne looked at her, their eyes brimming with questions.

Ariadne went first. “Why do you need to speak so urgently
to Major MacKinnon? You seem alarmed that he has left.”

“Yes,” Emma said. “And although he is perfectly welcome to stay here at the town house,
especially given the care he has taken of you, I am not surprised he might wish to
seek other lodgings. He acted as your bodyguard during the journey. Perhaps he doesn’t
feel comfortable taking up residence with us.”

Was that what he thought too? That he did not belong here? Dismally, she realized
that was precisely what he must think since she hadn’t introduced him, hadn’t made
him known to her friends and her father, had not welcomed him.

Silently, she groaned.

“I am sure whatever you have to say can wait until tomorrow,” Emma continued. “I shall
send one of the footmen out to ascertain his whereabouts and invite him to return.
I expect he will wish to stop back anyway in order to claim the reward of which your
father spoke.”

Mercedes blanched, remembering how she had once promised him just such a reward. How
insulted he must have been by her father’s casual mention of rewards.

“No, he won’t return for that,” she said dully.

Emma frowned. “Why ever not? He certainly is deserving of one.”

Ariadne narrowed her eyes in speculation. “Yes, Mercedes. Is there something you aren’t
telling us? You and this major were alone together for quite some while, even if no
one has made mention of it yet. What is Major Daniel MacKinnon to you?”

Drawing breath, Mercedes met their gazes. “He ceased to be my bodyguard long ago.
Daniel is my husband.”

D
aniel stalked along the streets of London, fury brimming inside him with each step
of his booted feet.

After Mercedes had turned her back and disappeared into the grand house with her friends,
he’d found himself alone with the archduke, or Lyndhurst as he’d said he preferred
to be called. The other man had given him a surprisingly sympathetic look and asked
if he’d like a drink.

But he wasn’t about to stand around like some dismissed lackey awaiting his mistress’s
next command. Mercedes—princess though she might be—was his wife whether she liked
it now or not.

He’d considered going upstairs to find her and vent the worst of his spleen. But he
hadn’t trusted himself not to do something else, something he might badly regret.

And so he’d given Lyndhurst a curt nod and stalked from the town house.

How long he’d been walking he didn’t know, nor did he care. He wished he was back
in Scotland where he could breathe the clean air and feel the soft earth beneath his
feet rather than the hard pavement and smoke of the city.

At some point, he knew he would have to return to the
town house and Mercedes, but he couldn’t go back yet. How could he when she’d shamed
him so, letting them believe him to be nothing more to her than a benighted servant—a
bodyguard hired to transport her safely to London and nothing more?

He’d thought she loved him—and perhaps she still did in her way—but it certainly hadn’t
taken long for her to return to her old life, her real life, and put him aside.

He was miles from where he’d begun when his step finally slowed and he took a minute
to study his surroundings. The neighborhood wasn’t terribly good, but it wasn’t dangerously
bad either and over the years he’d been in worse. There were shops and warehouses
and the pungent scent of the river. He must be near the Thames—exactly the kind of
place that suited him at the moment. Common. Somewhere a royal would never dare to
venture.

Taking note of a nearby public house, he decided a drink was now exactly what he needed.
Turning, he made his way inside.

Mercedes looked at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece and saw that the hands pointed
to midnight. With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, she dropped into a wing
chair near the fireplace. From his place on the rug, Robbie watched her, his eyes
filled with patient understanding.

“I don’t think Daniel is coming back,” she told him.

At least not tonight.

As the hours had slid past into evening, she had grown more and more concerned, wondering
where he was and hoping constantly that he would return.

She’d considered sending one of the footmen out to find him and bring him back. After
all, how hard could it be to track down a tall, auburn-haired Scotsman dressed in
Black Watch plaid? But even as she longed to give the command, she resisted, knowing
it would only make Daniel that much angrier when he learned she had sent someone to
retrieve him.

She understood his reasons for walking out and deeply regretted that she’d let cowardice
keep her from immediately acknowledging him as her husband. But she was, after all,
only human.

Now she had cause to be angry with him. What was he thinking, walking off without
a word and leaving her to worry? What if something had happened to him? What if he
had come to some harm?

But even as she considered the possibility, she realized that of all people, Daniel
was more than able to take care of himself, even in a city as large as London. No,
he was staying away because he
wanted
to stay away. He was staying away because she had wounded him, his pride and his
feelings, both.

Well, first thing tomorrow she would remedy the situation by going to her father to
share what she considered her happy news.

At the thought, she remembered the way Ariadne and Emma had reacted after she’d told
them about her marriage.

First they’d stared.

Then they’d demanded to know every last detail, listening with avid interest.

Finally, they’d hugged her and wished her every happiness. Emma had declared her brave
beyond all bounds, while Ariadne had beamed like a proud mama bird who had watched
her chick tumble from the nest and take flight.

“You, my dear friend,” Ariadne had said, “are a truly independent thinker now. Be
happy with your Scotsman and never doubt that you were right to follow your heart.”

Of course her father wouldn’t agree with such a sentiment. He would say she was young
and foolish and had tossed away her future on some ridiculous notion of love.

He would warn that she would be miserable without all the material possessions that
made her life so comfortable and easy.

He would rail against Daniel and accuse him of being nothing but an opportunistic
fortune hunter, ignoring the fact that until a few days ago, Daniel hadn’t believed
she was a princess at all.

And more than anything, he would be furious, even shocked, that she had asserted her
will enough to choose her own spouse rather than wait to marry the man he would eventually
have selected for her.

But after her father had scowled and bellowed and perhaps threatened to disinherit
her, he would regain control of his temper and see that he had no choice but to welcome
Daniel into the family.

And if he didn’t?

Well, it would make no difference. She loved Daniel and nothing anyone said or did
would change that fact—not even Daniel himself. He could brood and grumble and be
as dour as he liked, but she would find a way to make him laugh and smile again.

As soon as he returned, that is.

Surely, come morning, he would make his way back here to the town house. And if he
didn’t, then she would send out the footman to retrieve him.