Love Me Forever (23 page)

“S
he’s written another letter,” Ranald said, dropping the envelope on Lachlan’s bureau.

“Same as the others?” Lachlan asked.

“Aye.”

Lachlan sighed. Nessa had really taken his getting married hard. She’d cried and screamed and pleaded with him not to go to England to find a bride. She’d refused to listen when he tried to explain once again that he wouldn’t be marrying her either way, that it’d be like marrying his own sister, if he had one. She swore that she’d find the money they needed, somehow, and that would change his mind.

And then she’d written to him after he’d been at Sherring Cross for about two weeks, and a good half dozen times since, saying the same thing each time, begging him to come home, saying she’d gotten the money, all they’d need, but not saying how she’d managed to get it.

It was a lie, of course, a desperate measure, because she still thought she loved him, and didn’t
want to lose him to another woman. There was no way she
could
have come up with enough money to support the castle for any length of time. And even if it was true, it wouldn’t have changed his plans. He’d found the woman he wanted. He’d even been willing to marry her when he thought no money would come with her, he wanted her that badly.

So he’d read only that first letter from Nessa, and was so distressed by it, because she simply wouldn’t give up her obsession with him, that he’d told his cousins to read any other letters from her, if she wrote again. Which is what they’d been doing, embarrassing as they found the task.

“Yer no’ going tae answer this one either?” Ranald asked curiously when Lachlan didn’t even spare a glance at the latest letter.

“What’s the point, when we’ll be heading home tomorrow? Mayhap the sight o’ my new wife will finally convince her that I mean what I say.” And then he grumbled, “Faith, nothing else has been able tae.”

“She’ll no’ like it,” Ranald warned.

“I dinna expect she will, but she’ll have tae get used tae it. I willna have dissension in my house.”

“Ye’ll hae nothing but, if I know Nessa,” Ranald predicted with a grin.

“Nay, she’ll accept my Kimber and wish me well—or she can go live wi’ her uncle in the Hebrides.”

That evening, Lachlan began to wonder if Kimberly hadn’t somehow heard about Nessa and the trouble she might cause, she seemed so preoccu
pied. Her distraction could, of course, be no more than the fact that they were getting married in the morning. Nerves, jitters, or whatever you choose to call it. He was feeling none himself. But women looked at things differently, worried when they didn’t need to, and—he finally asked her.

“What’s wrong, darlin’? And if you tell me you’ve changed your mind, I’ll drag you out o’ here this second and off tae Kregora where we’ll have tae live in sin till you come tae your senses.”

She smiled at him. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve just been thinking, is all.”

“About what?”

Instead of answering him, she asked, “Do you know anyone by the name of Ian MacFearson?”

His eyes flared wide in surprise. “Faith, where’d you hear
that
name?”

“Do you know him then?”

“Nay—well, aye.”

“Which is it?”

“I dinna know him, Kimber, but I’ve heard
of
him. I dinna think there is anyone in the Highlands who hasna heard of Ian MacFearson. Some even wonder if he’s real, the tales of him are so unusual.”

“What tales?”

“He’s reputed tae be one o’ the meanest, blackhearted rogues our side o’ the border, that would as soon draw a dirk on you as look at you. Some say he hasna left his home since he returned tae it more’n twenty years ago, that he’s no more’n an old recluse who’s turned his back on the living. Others say he never married, but he’s got so many bastards you need more’n two hands tae count them on, and they’re every one of them as
vicious and blackhearted as he is. They even say they entertain themselves by trying tae kill each other, and he sits back and encourages them.”

“You’re joking, right?” Kimberly asked, her expression incredulous.

“Nay, but these are only tales, mind you. I dinna think anyone really kens how much is truth tae them or how much embellishment. But mothers will use his name tae admonish their bairns, telling them that Ian MacFearson will be coming for them if they’re no’ good, tae feed them tae his bloodthirsty sons. And I remember when I was fifteen, my cousins and I set out tae find where he lives, tae see for ourselves if he was real or just legend.”

“Did you?”

“We didna see him, nay. We found a house we thought might be his, an old brooding place set out on a promontory in the far north country, wi’ barren trees about it, and black clouds hovering low o’er it, and we didna go any closer. A place like that, that actually looked evil, merely supported the tales, we were thinking.”

“Or started the tales to begin with?” she suggested hopefully.

“Aye, mayhap, but I dinna care tae be finding out. Now where did you hear that name?”

“From my fa—from Cecil. Apparently, Ian MacFearson can add one more bastard to the count,” she told him, then with a wry smile. “Myself.”

He started to laugh, but she was suddenly looking too serious by half and he ended in a groan. “You’re no’ joking, are you?”

“No, and you’re not happy about it, are you?”
she replied tightly. “It bothers you that I’m a bastard?”

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Now why would that bother me? But Ian MacFearson’s daughter—that is going tae take getting used tae.”

That placated her enough that she admitted, “I’m not used to it myself yet.”

“You mean he only just told you today? The day ’afore you get married? That lousy—”

“He was quite foxed. I don’t think he had any intention of telling me, ever. But it slipped out, and—I was glad actually. He’d never behaved like a father to me, and this at least explained why. I thought you might even appreciate it, that I was half Scottish.”

“What blood runs in your veins, darlin’, isna important tae me—though Scots blood is nice,” he added with a grin. “And ’tis glad I am myself that the earl is no’ your da. I dinna mind admitting now that I had some powerful fears you’d turn out like him one day.”

She grinned. “You did not.”

“I did. However, are you
sure
you’re the MacFearson’s only daughter?”

“Only? You said he had bastards aplenty.”

“Aye, so the tale goes, but every one of them sons, and few o’ them wi’ the same mothers.”

She blushed at that bit of information. “Well, to answer your question, yes, I’m reasonably sure, and that’s because I know Cecil didn’t mean to tell me. He also said I take after the Scotsman, that even my smile is like his.”

“A blackhearted rogue wi’ the smile of an angel?” he said skeptically.

“I don’t believe he was always a rogue. But I
guess only Ian MacFearson could verify it for certain, whether I’m his daughter or not. If he didn’t know my mother or Cecil—they were apparently best of friends long ago—then it would all be a lie, wouldn’t it?”

“Aye.”

“Also, it’s not something that Cecil would want known, not when he’s claimed me as his all these years. It would be a blow to his pride, you know. And it wouldn’t have slipped out if he wasn’t quite foxed today. Then again”—she shrugged—“perhaps he planned the whole thing, wasn’t really drunk, and thought the tale would get you to not marry me.”

Lachlan snorted. “People with volatile tempers dinna usually have the patience for such deceit.”

“Well, as I said, I believed him. I didn’t at first, it was so unexpected. But it explained so much, about the way he treated both me and my mother over the years. And to be honest, I
want
it to be true. I don’t even care that this Ian MacFearson isn’t a nice man either. As long as the earl isn’t my father, I don’t really care who is.”

“Aye, I could almost agree wi’ that.”

“Almost?”

“If your real da were anyone but a fearsome legend,” he said, then, “You—ah—werena of a mind tae meet the MacFearson, were you?”

He looked so leery, she chuckled. “After what you’ve told me? No, I don’t think so.”

He sighed in relief, but quickly assured her, ’Tis no’ that I wouldna want tae take you tae meet the mon. If that is your wish, you’ll have it. But I’m thinking ’twould be best if you dinna find out if the tales are true. Some things are better left tae the unknown.”

“In this case, you’re probably right,” she agreed. “But speaking of the unknown, or at least what you likely don’t know yet—I doubt my father will attend the service in the morning, but the duke has kindly agreed to give me away.”

Lachlan raised a brow. “Did he now?” And then he laughed. “Och, well, I refused the last thing he offered me, but I’ll have no trouble accepting you, darlin’.”

K
imberly was floating in a cloud of happiness that she couldn’t quite explain. She was getting married, yes, and that
should
be a joyful experience—except she was marrying a man who didn’t love her. So she had no reason really to be so ridiculously happy.

She was standing at the altar now, her husband-to-be-in-a-few-minutes next to her, their shoulders touching. He’d looked so handsome when she’d joined him there, wearing his formal black, and his heart-stopping smile, that he’d taken her breath away.

It was almost easy to believe that he really wanted to marry her, that he wasn’t just doing as honor demanded. But she supposed if she was going to find any peace in her marriage to him, she’d have to suspend her beliefs and do a little pretending, and just accept him as the charming, sensual man he was.

She felt beautiful herself. Her cream-colored gown with its new white lace bodice and train fit
her to perfection. And her new maid, Jean, must have been trained by Megan’s maid, because she had the same talent for creating soft, flattering coiffures.

Megan had picked the girl herself and sent her to Kimberly when she heard that Mary had been dismissed. She was young, had a sweet, eager-to-please disposition, and best of all, she was willing to move to the Highlands with Kimberly. “Going to a new place, with nothing familiar to you, you simply must have your own maid,” Megan had told her. “And Jean will be loyal to you, m’dear, you won’t have to worry about that.”

Kimberly was forced to pay attention to the service as answers were demanded of her. To have and to hold…from this day forward…till death do us part. Such solemn vows, so serious, so at contrast with her bubbling happiness. She was hard pressed to keep a smile off her lips.

And then Lachlan was reaching for her hand, and she glanced down to see that he had not just a wedding band to slide onto her finger, but a magnificent diamond engagement ring to go with it, quite the largest gem she’d ever seen, surrounded by perfectly round pink pearls. It was one of the MacGregor jewels. They’d been fetched and returned to him just yesterday. She was so awed by it that she almost didn’t stop him in time from removing her emerald so he could put the diamond in its place. But she did stop him.

He looked up at her, the question in his eyes, a frown about to form. She quickly whispered to him, “I like the first one you gave me, that is, I prefer to wear it—if you don’t mind.”

His smile came slowly, but soon it was blinding. And he wasn’t supposed to kiss her yet, but
he did anyway. The pastor had to clear his throat, more than a few times, before Lachlan stopped so the flustered gentleman could finish the service. Then he was kissing her again.

They were married, really and truly married. Kimberly was so entranced with that thought, she barely heard the congratulations that followed. And before long, they were riding away from Sherring Cross.

Devlin had offered them one of the ducal coaches for the journey—he had several. He even supplied a coachman and outriders. And he surprised them all, his wife included, by telling Lachlan he’d be welcome to visit again. He’d actually been sincere. Of course, he’d added, albeit with a grin, “Just not too bloody often, eh.”

It had made the parting much more pleasant, when Kimberly had been near to tears, in saying good-bye to Megan. She’d made a friend in the duchess, the closest she’d ever had, actually. She was going to miss her dreadfully. But she’d promised to write. And Megan had promised to come visit them in the Highlands someday.

The plan had been to leave directly after the service. So Kimberly had gone to visit her—well, to visit the earl, one last time early that morning. He’d been sober, and barely awake, and his usual surly self. And she hadn’t wasted any time hoping for a kind word in parting. In retrospect, it was amazing that that visit hadn’t spoiled the rest of the day for her. Quite the opposite. Probably knowing that she’d never see the earl again had added to her happiness.

“I don’t expect you to come to my wedding,” she’d told him. “It would be hypocritical of you to do so, and you’re not that.”

He’d snorted. “No, I’m not, nor do I suffer fools lightly, and you’re that if you still marry—”

“Let’s not get into that, if you please. I will marry him, and it’s nothing to you, so do keep your opin—I’m sorry. I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

“Ungrateful chit,” he’d mumbled.

“No, I’m not ungrateful. Actually, I want to thank you for sharing your house with me all these years, for feeding me and putting clothes on my back. It would have been nice if you had also shared something of yourself with me, after agreeing to raise me, but despising me as you do, it’s understandable why you couldn’t.”

She’d actually struck a nerve. He’d flushed and replied, “I never despised you, gel. I despised your father, and you reminded me too much of him.”

“Well, you needn’t worry about that anymore. I see no reason why we should ever see each other again after today. So this is good-bye. And I do hope you find some happiness with Winnifred.”

“He’s not going to charge her then? He’s going to drop the matter?”

“He has the MacGregor jewels back, and the deed to Winnifred’s house. If you arrange a bank draft and have it delivered to him before we leave this morning, yes, the matter will be forgotten.”

“Thank you.”

She’d blinked, shocked to hear those words from him. She’d only been able to nod, and turn away. But she had one last question that was burning to be asked, and only he could give her the answer.

So she’d paused at the door, stared at him a
moment, this man who for twenty-one years she’d thought was her father. But he’d never been a father to her, or a real husband to her mother, and what she wanted to know, needed to know, was why her mother accepted that.

So she asked him, “Why did she never leave you? She had the wherewithal to do so. Why did she stay, when she was so unhappy with you?”

He’d scowled at her, but he nonetheless answered, “Because she was raised to do what’s right. Unlike you, she would never have disobeyed her parents, no matter what. She was told to marry me and she did. And she made the best of it, as was proper.”

“Made the best of it?” she’d said incredulously. “She was miserable all those years, and you’re saying it was because it was the proper thing to do?”

He’d flushed again. He wasn’t going to say any more—and then he did. “She also stayed because of you. She didn’t want you having the stigma of bastardy. She knew if she left that I’d no longer keep her secret.”

Kimberly shook her head. “You really had her fooled, didn’t you?”

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“You were miserable, so she had to be miserable too, was that it?”

“I would have—”

“No, you wouldn’t. Just as you won’t tell anyone now that I’m not your daughter. Because who gets laughed at in the case of a cuckold, the erring wife, or the husband who was fool enough to let it happen? And you’ll never willingly admit to being a fool. We both know that. I wish to hell my mother had known it as well. Actually, I wish
you had kicked her out when you first found out. She would have been much, much happier if you had. I know I would have been.”

“You’re the fool if you think so, gel,” he countered. “A woman alone, with a bastard child, she’s shunned by one and all. Your mother had too much pride to be able to handle that. The scandal would have destroyed her. At least with me, she could hold her head up and keep her place in society, and she was grateful for that, believe me. And she wasn’t completely miserable, by God. She had you. She bloody well doted on you. But ask me what I had? Nothing.”

“You could have had me. You could have opened your heart and I would have loved you. But I forget. I reminded you of him.”

“You think I don’t have regrets, gel?” he’d said gruffly. “I do.”

“Then I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all three of us, but mostly for Mother. She won’t get a second chance to find happiness, but you and I will.”

“Not if you marry that Scotsman, you won’t,” he’d predicted.

“I mean to prove you wrong in that.”