Highlander's Hope (22 page)

Chapter 26

The room was unnaturally quiet after Ewan left, taking Yvette’s mangled heart with him. She lay on the bed, staggered and incapable of forming a single articulate sound.

Sweet God in heaven, he loved her? Had loved her for years?

She couldn’t help herself. Her hand crept out, and her fingers grazed the glittering jewels. She lifted the pin. It was warm from being in his pocket. There was an inscription across the front which had not been there the first time she’d seen it in the jeweler’s.

Love of My Life
, the same words Ewan has spoken to her. Her eyes filled with anguished tears when she read the words etched there.

Clutching the brooch to her heart, Yvette curled into a ball and cried. Cried until there were no more tears, the reservoir of her sorrow exhausted. Then mercifully, she slipped into the forgetfulness of sleep.

It was late afternoon before she awoke, and the crushing memories came flooding back. Clutching the brooch in her hand, she climbed from the bed, her movements like that of an old woman. She stared at the symbol of Ewan’s love. The symbol of what she now feared she had lost.

He loved her.

He had lied to her.

Yes, but he loved her.

He had tricked her into marriage
.

Had he? Or had he done what he must to protect her, because he loved her.

She didn’t know. Nothing made sense right now. Love, betrayal, fear, fury, deceit, trust, and a myriad of other emotions tumbled, pell-mell, round inside her. A mixed-up, messed-up jumble she couldn’t sort through.

A single tear teetered at the corner of her eye before dropping on the brooch where it glistened, almost taunting her. A cheerless smile tilted her mouth.

She had her meaningful declaration of love.

For the first three days after his departure, she refused to leave her chamber. Seonaid brought the bunny to visit. Yvette wasn’t inclined to talk, so Seonaid did the chatting.

“There are dozens of orphans running half-clothed and hungry throughout the countryside, and we’ve need of a physician to treat the poor and infirm. Gregor and I do our best,” she insisted, “but alas, our knowledge is limited.”

Yvette, lost in her own unhappy thoughts only half-listened.

Seonaid rattled on, “Do you know, most of the Scots hereabouts don’t have an iota of education?”

Yvette’s gaze flicked to Seonaid, then returned to the window she laid curled against.

“Now, don’t misunderstand me. Both Ewan and father are diligent overseers, but Scots have pride.” Seonaid shook her head and petted the sleeping bunny in her lap.

“They’ll not take charity. No indeed. Ewan’s people want to be indebted to no man. Give them the means, and they’ll take care of the need themselves.” Her voice rang with pride.

The tiniest smile tilted the corners of Yvette’s mouth.

“Did I tell you,” asked Seonaid, “I’ve planted some new varieties of herbs outside the east side of the castle? I do believe the rich soil and abundant sunshine on that side of the Keep might produce a heartier variety of plant life.”

Yvette wrapped her shawl tighter round her shoulders and shook her head. Politeness necessitated she reply. “No, you’ve not mentioned it.”

Seonaid smiled. “I’ve even tried some new specimens which flourish in the wetlands, though,” her tone became much more serious, “I’m careful never to venture too near the bogs.”

Other than Seonaid, Yvette refused any visitors. She spent the days, lost in misery, gazing at the scene beyond the window’s warped panes. She slept little and ate even less, losing weight she could ill-afford to spare.

She missed Ewan. Her eyes misted with tears. She dreamt of him each night. Not the passionate, sensual dreams of weeks ago, but visions of him grinning as he handed her from a carriage or passed jam to her at breakfast. Even dreams of her riding across his lap, a tender smile on his lips and devotion in his eyes.

Reason returned as Yvette’s emotions calmed, and she recognized the truth. Ewan wasn’t entirely to blame for their predicament. He had been trying to protect her. Perhaps his methods were questionable, but she knew, if she were honest with herself, she had not objected to a betrothal to him.

Or to being his wife.

Now that she knew he loved her, wouldn’t marriage have been her choice?

She exhaled a gusty poof of air, her breath fogging the window glass. The sigh sounded wistful, even to her. A movement caught her eye. There, near the dock, three children, two boys and a slip of a girl, skipped along. One of the boys looked to have a loaf of bread under his scrawny arm. Some goodwife had been careless and left her bread to cool where small, thieving hands could snatch it.

She’d noticed children scurrying into the woods on multiple occasions during her self-imposed vigil. They must be some of the war orphans Giselle and Seonaid spoke of.

So great was Yvette’s sudden epiphany, she spoke aloud, “The orphans, of course!” A grin split her face.

Dear Vangie, had been orphaned at six and lived with a miserly aunt and uncle. They had treated her little better than a servant. It was only when she visited Yvette or her Romani family that Vangie had experienced any happiness. Yet, compared to these urchins—Yvette searched the trees again, catching a glimpse of a yellow skirt—Vangie had been blessed.

Something resonated within Yvette. Making an impulsive decision, she wrote Mr. Dehring a letter. Rereading it, a smile of satisfaction curled her lips. She wrote another missive, this one to her stepbrother, the Earl of Clarendon. Sealing the letters with wax, she left her room with purposeful intent.

Standing at the bottom of the staircase, Yvette was unsure where she would find Hugh or Duncan. Hearing voices in the Great Hall, she squared her shoulders and marched toward the room which, only days ago, had witnessed her ruination. Inhaling, she determined to put that aside.

She had a purpose for leaving the bower, for she knew now where her chamber was located. The two doors she had never had cause to use, led to Ewan’s suite and a common sitting area.

Yvette was within her rights to seek Craiglocky’s steward and Ewan’s second in command. After all, she was the Lady of Craiglocky now. At her appearance, the conversation in the Hall dwindled, then ceased altogether. It appeared the family was preparing to dine. Everyone was present except for Dugall, Aubry, Seonaid, and Lilias.

She hesitated in the entrance, uncertain. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” She half-turned to leave. “I shall come back later.”

“Yvette, won’t you join us?” Giselle motioned to the table.

A tentative smile on her lips, Yvette walked forward. “Yes, thank you.”

Giselle called for another place setting. Gregor stood, then pulled the chair out beside his.

“Thank you.” Sending him a grateful smile, Yvette took a seat.

Adaira beamed and reached under the table to squeeze her hand.

Isobel smiled. “‘Tis wonderful to see you.”

“Have ye need of something?” Hugh’s kind eyes met hers. He looked pointedly at the letters in her hand.

Yvette nodded, glancing at the letters. “Yes, I sought an audience with you and Duncan.”

“Lass, ye are the lady of Craiglocky now. Ye need not ask for an audience,” said Hugh kindly.

Yvette blushed, uncomfortable with her new title. “I’ve a proposition I need your help with.” She gazed round the table. “If you don’t object, I could share my plan with everyone now.”

Hugh’s gaze roamed those seated. “Aye,” he agreed.

As efficiently as possible, Yvette revealed her plans. She finished by asking Hugh, “Do you think it possible?”

Brushing his chin with his hand, he looked first to Duncan, then at the other astonished faces. “Aye,” he said. “It can be done, but it would be costly, lass,
very
costly.”

Meeting his eyes, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Money is not an issue. Ewan did indeed marry an heiress.” She colored when she acknowledged the marriage, but forged on. “Even he doesn’t know the extent of my wealth.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, lass?” A touch of disbelief etched his voice.

Yvette’s lips twitched. “Indeed.” She named a sum which wiped the humor off everyone’s face. “And those are only my holdings in England.” Her gaze skimmed their faces. “I’ve interests around the world.”

Duncan’s, “Holy Mother of God,” was smothered by Alasdair’s, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

Hugh grunted, “I’ve never known anyone that
wealthy.”

Suddenly feeling doubtful, Yvette glanced at the others. They were too quiet. “Please, forgive me. I didn’t mean to sound boastful.”

Giselle shook her head. “Please don’t mistake our silence for disapproval. I think I speak for each of us,” she paused, sweeping her hand to indicate those seated at the table, “when I say we’re amazed at your generosity. You’ve been here but days, ill the first few and, I’m ashamed to say, treated abominably by some thereafter, though our intent was never to hurt you. What possible motive can you have for wanting to do this?”

Yvette frowned, baffled. “You don’t wish me to?” Studying their sober faces, she tried to determine their thoughts.

Duncan regarded her. “Nae that, lass.” He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. “What we are trying to understand is why ye would do something kind when ye have been treated shoddily?”

Faith, they doubted her motives
.
Yvette folded her hands and angled her head. “I want to do it for Ewan.” Her gaze traveled the table, searching the faces of everyone seated there. “Will you help me?”

Hugh stood. Duncan followed suit. “Who be with us?”

She watched in tearful amazement as everyone present stood in acknowledgement of their commitment. They would help her.

Yvette smiled, eagerly informing them, “I’ve a letter drafted to my solicitor. I need a list of supplies, materials, laborers, anything and everything you can think of. I’d like to get started at once, and if possible, send a rider to London today.”

“Lass, ye need to present yer case to the folk if ye are to be successful,” Duncan said soberly.

Doubt kicked her in the chest. The smile waned from her face. Her gaze darted to him in alarm.

Giselle laid her hand over hers. “You’re their laird’s wife now. Tell them what’s in your heart,
chére
. Why it’s important for you to do this.”

Hugh nodded. “We shall call for a council o’ the folk in the morning.”

Tomorrow?

Hugh’s proclamation wrenched Yvette’s stomach. Her face must have registered her panic, because he chuckled, “Don’t look so worried, we’ll help ye.”

Aubry flounced into the Hall, and Yvette’s muscles tightened into hard knots all along her neck and shoulders. She wasn’t prepared to speak to her yet. No, that wasn’t true. She’d never wanted to speak to Aubry again.

Yvette stood, then passed Hugh the letters. “Will you please see these are posted for me?” She smiled at the others. “Thank you. Please excuse me.” Head lowered, she made for the Hall’s massive carved doors.

Aubry sidestepped, blocking her escape. “Yvette, please wait. I’d like to apologize for my appalling behavior. I was distraught and said a number of things I shouldn’t have, intolerably unkind things.”

Yvette stood, head bowed and fists clenched. Should she thank Aubry for the apology? Give her the cut direct? Plant her a facer? She rather liked that last choice.

“I wronged you,” Aubry said. “I’d like to start over, should like for us to become friends, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

Friends? Yvette would sooner sleep with a venomous snake.

Adaira snorted in blatant disbelief. “And I’m a horse’s arse.”

“Hush, Addy, there’s no need to be vulgar,” Giselle chastised.

“Mere words are not enough to undo the harm ye did, Aubry. The laird may yet send ye from the Keep, so furious he be.” Duncan made the dour proclamation in Ewan’s stead.

Addy muttered under her breath. “I hope Ewan does send her away. Far away.”

Aubry ignored her, saying, “I’m certain I can be of help in the endeavor Yvette has suggested.”

Several brows rose in askance at her remark. Yvette looked her square on for the first time. How did Aubry know of her plans? Yvette’s gaze shifted to the open Hall doors.

Aubry confessed, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I was reluctant to enter the Hall. I was—that is—I am ashamed of my behavior.” She looked at the others, waving a hand in Yvette’s direction. “Aren’t you willing to help her?”

From beneath her lashes, Yvette scrutinized Aubry. She didn’t believe a word of it. From the wary looks on everyone’s faces, it didn’t appear they didn’t either.

Aubry flashed a bright smile. “You’ll see how sincere I am. I shall prove myself to you.”

Her lower lip tucked between her teeth, Yvette stared at Aubry. Her mind waged a soundless battle between her convictions and emotions. She didn’t think for a minute Aubry was the least remorseful.

She glanced at the others. They were waiting for her. Blast it. She wanted nothing to do with Aubry. Lord, this is asking too much, too soon. She glanced at Giselle. An idea took hold.
But perhaps
—

“Aubry, your help would be appreciated.” Smiling at Hugh and Giselle, Yvette suggested smoothly, “I’m sure you know where Aubry will be helpful. May I rely upon you to place her where her talents would be the most useful?”

That way, Yvette was spared Aubry’s company.

Giselle nodded and smiled. “Of course.”

“I’ll leave you, then.” Aubry curled her mouth into a semblance of a smile. “Please let me know how I can help.” She turned in a flurry of russet-colored skirts, then hastened from the room.