Authors: Dawn Halliday

Highland Surrender (43 page)

BOOK: Highland Surrender

4.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

ads

She needed to endure only two more days of pretending, and then she’d be free. Uncle Walter would go back to England, and Cam would be safe.

She’d do this for Cam. And because Rob had asked it of her.

From inside, Cam called, “Yes?”

She took a moment to harden herself. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes and pictured the numbness she knew so well coating her—mind, body, and spirit. Then she lifted her head, cleared her throat, and spoke in a clear voice.

“It is me, Elizabeth. You called, my lord?”

“Come in, please.”

She smoothed her buttercream satin skirts, so different from the rough wool of the
arisaid
Rob had given her on the morning of their marriage, and entered Cam’s domain.

“Good afternoon, Elizabeth.”

Clenching her fists so her hands wouldn’t shake, she curtsied. She twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

When she raised her head, his eyes widened. She knew how awful she looked. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and her face was lined with grief.

She breathed deeply, imagining the air entering her body and strengthening her. Today her act of self-possession was more difficult than it had ever been before.

Cam spoke gently. “There are a few things we must discuss.”

Pressing her lips together, she nodded.

“Please sit down.” He gestured to one of the silk-covered chairs, and she walked over to it and lowered herself onto it, smoothing her skirts to keep her hands busy.

Panic.

She couldn’t do this. She didn’t want to do this. Why not fall at his feet and explain everything? Beg, plead? Cam had always been kind and understanding. He’d help her.

No. No, she couldn’t. This wasn’t about her or her grief. This was about Cam, his safety. She must keep him safe. She must pretend. Just for two more days. Just until Uncle Walter was gone.

She swallowed her fear and, battling the never-ending crush of grief in her chest, raised her eyes to his.

He took the chair across from her after pushing it a few feet closer. Their knees nearly touching, he leaned forward. “Are you still unwell? What plagues you?”

For a long moment, her lower lip quivered. Then she gathered herself yet again, battling off the threatening tears. She straightened. “Just a . . . woman’s complaint, my lord. I am feeling much better this afternoon.”

“Please call me Cam.”

She nodded.

“There is something very serious I wish to speak with you about, Elizabeth.” He paused, then said, “It is about Robert MacLean.”

The world spun around her, and she clutched the carved chair arms, battling to maintain her equilibrium. She sat very still so she wouldn’t betray herself. Yet her grief threatened to erupt with every second that passed.

Cam leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin and watching her. “Elizabeth, it is time to stop pretending. You’ve engaged in carnal relations with my half brother. More than once.”

Panic overtook her. She couldn’t stop it, couldn’t prevent it from flaring in her eyes and over her skin. He
knew
. He knew at least part of the story. Her mind struggled to regroup, to assess, to calculate the changes she must make to her plan.

Save him. Save Cam from Uncle Walter’s belladonna. Nothing else matters anymore.

She must lie to Cam about Rob—there was no other choice. It was too late for Rob, for happiness, for love, but it wasn’t too late for Cam. He was a good man. She must see her uncle gone from Scotland without him hurt.

She blinked, then blinked harder. Again she composed herself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.

“Stop,” he said gently. “I saw the two of you, out by the loch. You’ve left your room at night several times since to meet with him.”

She sat very still, and the solution came to her in a rush. With relief, she released the stopper she’d stuck behind her eyes and allowed the tears to brim and then spill over.

“Will you turn me away?” She still clutched the chair arms, the carved ridges digging into her fingertips. “Please don’t turn me away.”

He leaned forward. “Listen to me. If you love Robert MacLean, you cannot marry me. I’ve no wish to be second in your estimation.”

“No!” She shook her head emphatically. “That . . . that could never happen.”

She sobbed wholeheartedly now, and Cam leaned back, a stunned expression on his face.

“Rob has gone,” she lied through her honest tears. “He hates me, hates what he’s done to you. It was my fault, every bit of it. He said he couldn’t stay, knowing how he betrayed you. So he left. He’s gone. He left me, and he left you. Forever. He’ll never return. Please, my lord. Please . . .”

She slid off the chair and sank to her knees before him, lowering her face to her hands and sobbing.

“Rob has gone?” Abruptly, he rose and walked away from her. Clutching her skirts in her fists, tears streaming down her cheeks, Elizabeth watched him as he went to the window overlooking the stables, parted the curtains, and looked out. “Why haven’t I been informed of this?”

“I don’t know,” she pushed out over a sob. “He . . . he left the night before last.”

He turned from the window, frowning at her from across the room. “I don’t love you,” he said quietly. “I know nothing about you. You pretend to be someone you are not. How can I marry someone like that?”

“Never again.” She twisted her skirts in her clenched hands. “I was so stupid. I shall never lie to you again.” After they were married and Uncle Walter was gone, that was. She had to maintain the lies until then. When Cam was safe again, she’d be honest. She’d tell him everything.

“You still wish to marry me?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“I . . . I need this life. I want it. I want
you
.”

“Why?” he asked again.

Rob wanted her to live. He wanted her to prevail over Uncle Walter. He wanted her to marry Cam and ensure both their safety. She knew all of it was true. He wouldn’t want her to succumb to helpless terror, nor would he want her to stop caring.

“I will be cast off by my uncle, discarded by society. I will be shunned by the entire world.” Her sobs had receded, and she stared up at him as he came to sit across from her once again. “I know you are a good man,” she whispered. “A kind man. Please do not throw me to that fate.
Please
.”

Cam narrowed his eyes. “I doubt your uncle would allow your reputation to suffer. We will end the engagement congenially. Perhaps we could say the Highlands did not appeal to you—”

“No!” She gazed up at him through blurring eyes. “Please. I love Scotland, I truly do. I want to learn Gaelic. I want to be a Highlander in truth . . .”

“Those are girlish notions. They have naught to do with what a life with me would be.”

“But it’s true; I swear it. Please believe me. I don’t want to go back to England. Ever.” She swiped at the stray tear carving a trail down her cheek. “I’m sorry about Robert MacLean. I was foolish, stupid. I never meant to betray you. I’m so very sorry.”

Cam didn’t appear persuaded.

“There is so much at risk,” she said. “I’m not ignorant of the political importance of our match, and neither are you. You need this union. Perhaps more than I do.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Do you love me, Elizabeth?”

She paused, then bowed her head. “What does it matter? Ours wasn’t a love match; it was a political pairing.” She looked up at him and tentatively laid her hand on his knee. “We could be happy together, my lord. I will be the best wife I can possibly be to you. I promise you on the lives of all I hold dear that I will never betray you.”

He blinked. His eyes turned glassy as she stared up at him, her hands clasped in supplication.

“I must marry,” he whispered. “I must marry and produce an heir. It is my duty.”

She gazed at him, unable to interrupt his thoughts for fear he’d turn away.

“What does it matter who it is?” he said thoughtfully. “I’ve made promises to your uncle. To Argyll and the king. Despite our transgressions, despite our mutual lack of love.”

She clasped her hands before her as if in prayer. “I will make you a good, dutiful wife. I swear it on my life. On my parents’ graves, God rest their souls.”
On Rob’s grave . . .
She choked with the resurgence of her tears and froze on her position on her knees, paralyzed with grief.

Cam reached down, took her hand, and helped her to her feet with an unhappy sigh. “Very well. We will go through with the marriage, as planned.”

The next morning, Cam sat in his study. He intended to give the pretense of working on the accounts stacked upon his desk, but hell if he could work. Between the losses of Ceana and his brother, and the promise he’d made to Elizabeth, he couldn’t focus on a damned thing.

He was still stunned by Elizabeth’s reaction to his knowledge of her affair with Rob. Instead of unearthing a girl happy to call off the marriage to a man she didn’t love, he’d discovered a woman begging him to wed her. Yet she admitted she didn’t love him.

And Rob? What the hell had happened? Why had he left without so much as a word? Cam had assumed Rob’s feelings for Elizabeth went beyond the desire for a quick tup or two. And now he’d abandoned her out of guilt for what they had done?

Cam didn’t know Rob well, but Rob never struck him as the kind of man who’d allow guilt to overcome him. He seemed far too proud to slink off into the night, too frightened to face the consequences of what he’d done.

In the end, whether they were a conjured performance or not, Elizabeth’s arguments had swayed Cam. It was his personal, political, and social duty to marry. He had made promises to her, to her uncle, and to others—promises he could not renege on the day before their marriage.

Elizabeth was not the woman for him. But then again, who was? None whom he could have. He was clearly doomed to failure in matters of the heart. He’d learned time and again that matters of the heart and matters of honor could not overlap.

Sorcha and Ceana were right: He must marry Lady Elizabeth.

Alan and Sorcha were busy with their new lives, their new house, and their son, and had no time for him. Rob was gone. Ceana was gone, damn it. Tomorrow he would marry a woman he didn’t love and who didn’t love him.

He supposed he should make sure the preparations for his wedding were going smoothly. He left his study and went in search of Janet MacAdam, the housekeeper, who had assumed responsibility for the festivities.

The tension in Cam’s shoulders built as he strode downstairs to the kitchens. Halfway down the final flight, he came face-to-face with Bram MacGregor. The man glared up at him.

“I was just coming to look for you. Milord.”

Cam raised a brow. Despite the man’s surly demeanor, surely the
milord
appellation was a step in the right direction.

“I haven’t the time to meet with you today, MacGregor. Can you return next week?”

Bram shook his head. “ ’ Tis of no importance. Just wished to . . . well, I wished to thank ye.”

“For what?”

“For the help ye offered the Roberts family.” His lips curved. “They’re fattening up, looking more hale than I’ve seen ’em in a long while.”

“Well. Your concern for the Robertses is exemplary.”

Bram shrugged. “Aye, well, they are my clansmen.”

“Good. I was glad I could help. Any news of Hamish?”

“The bastard has gone.”

Cam sighed. “Well, we all know he’s a thief and a sot on top of it, so it’s probably for the best.”

“Aye,” Bram agreed. “I daresay you’re right, milord.”

Cam was mildly surprised by Bram’s change of heart, but perhaps Berta Roberts’s new position in his kitchens had served to convince the man that Cam intended to work for the benefit of his tenants rather than their demise.

Cam moved down one stair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, MacGregor, I’m on my way to the kitchens to speak with my housekeeper.”

“Oh, aye? Might I accompany you there, sir?”

“Yes, you may.”

They walked a few steps in silence; then Cam cast a sidelong glance at the brawny man. “Robert MacLean told me you’re a tracker.”

Bram’s chest puffed up. “Aye, sir, that be true enough. I’ve a nose like a hound.”

Cam paused, considering, then took the risk. “Did you hear that my party was set upon by highwaymen last month as we went through the mountain pass?”

“Aye, I’d heard.”

“Do you know who was responsible for the attack?”

“Nay.” Bram’s voice was hard, flat, and final. Cam believed him.

BOOK: Highland Surrender

4.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book