Marriage By Arrangement (18 page)

She shivered and hugged her arms. What if her son shared the same malady as his father? She lifted her chin. Whatever her child turned out to be, she would love him, adore him, protect him, and make his life happy. She folded gloved hands over her stomach.

And if she bore a lass, she would spoil her, adore her, and dress her in pretty satins and lace. She stiffened her shoulders. She’d make very certain her daughter would wed a man she loved. She gave a tiny, hopeless sigh. And that the bridegroom would be as normal a man as she could find, title or not.

She pressed her nose against the glass carriage window and watched the heather and bracken rush past. Beside the road, the burn twinkled through the glen. She couldn’t hear its roar because of the crunch of the coach’s wheels on the rutted road, the drumming of the horses’ hooves, the squeaking of the harnesses, and the carriage creaking as it swayed along. But she knew the sound was there.

Below them, rushing beside the carriage road, the speed of the river exploding over smooth rocks reminded her of her vow to make her marriage a happy one. She would not let any rocks jutting through the surface of her marriage keep love and happiness from bursting through.

Regardless of the dark cloud that hung over Avondale, she would raise her bairns in a loving atmosphere with a father close by to give the children a model to look up to.

Would Avondale be as gentle with the children as he was with her? Or would he frighten his children with his strange moods and dangerous behavior? Would they wonder why Hennings and Rafe never left their father’s side? She pressed a hand over her fluttering heart. She must stop worrying or risk bearing a nervous babe.

She yawned. Of late, she’d gotten precious little sleep.

Avondale would get well. She’d told herself so numerous times…and managed to half-convince herself. But what turned his tender expressions dark? And what haunted his dreams? She must make him tell her. If only he didn’t come to bed so very late.

“Are you scared, Cailin? Yer so quiet.”

Fiona’s hand on her arm pulled her thoughts back to today’s mission. “Of course not. Why should anyone threaten us? We’re but two ladies on a mission of mercy.”

“But ye’ve not seen what the soldiers do to harmless ladies.” Fiona’s eyes looked large and glossy. “While I’ve hidden behind bushes, I’ve seen them strip my friends, have their way with them, and then run them through with a bayonet.”

Cailin clenched both fists. No one would harm her unborn child. “We’ve the carriage, and we’ve Mikey. And more than that, we’ve got our guardian angels hovering over, protecting us. Remember, we’re not defenseless Highland women, we’re Lowland Ladies backed by the crown on a mission of mercy.”

“The soldiers may not take well to our mission. They want naught to do with saving Highland bairns. The Duke of Cumberland wants to burn us all out of our crofts and lands.”

“Even the Duke of Cumberland wouldn’t dare mistreat the Duke of Avondale’s wife. If they ignore the crest on the carriage, they will respect the diamonds we wear.” She fingered the necklace she seldom wore and the baubles dangling over her gloved wrist. “These and the ones you are wearing will set them back on their heels.”

Fiona gave a little shiver. “Mayhap we should have brought His Grace with us for our safekeeping.”

As the carriage tilted on the rutted road, Cailin braced herself with the carriage strap. “You are more frightened of the soldiers than of my husband? I know you avoid being alone with Avondale.” She braced her other hand on the cushion between them. “But be charitable to him. You saw that he’s…he’s not quite right in his head.” She closed her eyes. “And, mayhap not in his heart, either.”

“Oh, Cailin, you deserve so much better in a husband. You—”

Cailin put a gloved finger over Fiona’s lips.

The lass’s eyes gradually lost their look of sympathy laced with fear.

Cailin could pinpoint the exact time Fiona’s agile mind leapt to a different topic altogether. She’d seen that curious gleam in her sky-blue eyes too often to miss.

“Well, then, and are you happy with His Grace? You seem in a deep study this morning. And I wonder if you need protection during the nights.”

“Please don’t fret yourself about me. Avondale is everything a husband should be when we are alone together.” Except for his nightmares and pacing. And the tormented expression that always followed when she could stand his nightmares no longer and shook him awake.

“I’m more than glad to hear that from you.”

Cailin couldn’t repress her sigh. She must change the subject or risk making the child growing inside into a melancholic. “And what of Brody? Is he mending well?”

“Yes, his spirits remain good. Megan stays by his side most times. I spell her at scheduled intervals. No one is the wiser that the king’s soldiers almost killed him as he rescued three more Highlanders.” Fiona’s eyes, so like Brody’s direct unflinching gaze, met hers, and she set her full lips into a stubborn line. “That’s nay…not what I asked. And are you happy with Avondale?”

Did all her confused feelings lay open upon her face for the lass to read? “To be sure, Avondale satisfies me.”

“You donna…don’t fear him at all?”

“Never.” Avondale pleased her. Not only while she was in his bed, but friendship with him was blossoming. During their nights reading the Bible, he’d grown into a shoulder to lean upon, an ear to talk into, a heart to share her dreams with, and she hoped soon, a faith to pray with. But that was before his last episode. And he still refused to tell her his secret.

“I had been wondering. What, with Megan not being in the family way. None of my brothers were wed this long without….”

“Fiona!”

Fiona’s face became a picture of remorse. “I’m that sorry, Cailin, if I’ve embarrassed you. Don’t you Lowland women talk so freely among yerselves?”

“Well, well, yes. Sometimes. With someone we know quite well.”

“Are we nay…not sisters?” Fiona tried to conceal her hurt expression.

“I’m sorry. Yes. That is, if there is something to discuss. Megan has not divulged any problems to me.”

“Well, you see, Brody being so…I thought mayhap Megan had some…problems.”

“You thought I spent too much time alone with him.” Cailin gazed outside, only half seeing the woods that had already begun to thin into clumps of birch and hazel, and the fenced meadow filled with brown Highland coos with their shaggy coats, enormous long horns, and cuddly appearances. “I admit I was lonely. I thought Megan was completely occupied with the wounded men.” Cailin made a pretext of untying and retying the ribbons on her bonnet. “I was selfish. I shall not be spending time alone with Brody again.”

“No, Cailin, don’t quit entirely. But it would please me if you took along a chaperone.”

“After today I expect my time will be needed elsewhere.” She smiled to show Fiona she wasn’t angry and reached for her hand. “I hope we two shall always be able to talk freely with one another.”

Fiona’s wide azure eyes cleared. “We shall be great friends as well as sisters.”

As the coach began its upward climb and the meadow beside the road transformed into moorland scrub and bare rock, gravity pushed Cailin against the cushions. No turning back now, even had she wanted to. With the road too narrow to reverse the coach, they were committed to reaching the Highlands.

All the while, she gazed at the passing scenery, her thoughts concentrated on Fiona’s troubling conversation. Did the entire household think she’d spent too much time alone with Brody? Did everyone think Avondale was dangerous? What would they think if they knew of the men hidden inside the broch? What would they think when the carriage returned home this evening? If the carriage returned home.

She avoided looking at Fiona, not yet old enough to pin up her hair, who knew too much about the relationship between a husband and wife. Perhaps Mums and she should think more quickly about a suitable husband for Fiona.

Hot blood rose to Cailin’s cheeks. She’d heard that lasses in the Highlands wed at quite an early age. And Fiona expected Megan to be in the family way because her brothers had evidently been extremely virile. The lass was smart far beyond her years. She must see about procuring a suitable husband for Fiona. Or send her safely off to boarding school.

But today had a different purpose entirely. “Do you have many nieces and nephews?”

“Yes. Our homestead ‘twill be our first stop, though it’s farthest away. I’m aunty to one niece and nine nephews.”

“Ten!”

“A—yes. But you have met the two oldest lads.”

“Of course. The two seven-year-olds that Megan and you brought to the castle a few weeks past.”

“Yes, and your papa sent them right off to boarding school.”

“Of course, you miss them, but the castle wasn’t safe for two very tall, lively boys. Soldiers ride up and visit on occasion, and they aren’t able to hide their accents. And they do need to be in school. Papa did what he thought best.” She smiled. “And I do agree with him.”

“Will he send these off as well?”

Cailin frowned. “I wish I knew.” She gripped Fiona’s gloved hand. “Wherever they end up, they’ll be better off.”

Fiona nodded, though a glaze of sadness dimmed her eyes. “Duncan was married eight years and had five bairns. Collin wed six months after Duncan and had five bairns as well.”

“Were they in a race?”

Fiona giggled. “Yes. Always they competed. But Duncan had all lads, and Collin had all lads save baby Fiona.” Her dimples played in her cheeks as she gave a delighted smile. “And Duncan was that jealous of the little lass.”

“You had another brother as well?”

Fiona’s smile dissolved. Her chin trembled. “Angus.” Tears sprang to her eyes, making them look like crystal-blue lakes.

“Angus had no children?”

“Angus couldna settle on just one lass. Every lass in the Highlands set her bonnet for him.” Fiona’s forehead crumpled, and tears overflowed, trickling down her flushed cheeks. “Angus, he left many a broken heart when he didna return from Culloden.” She pulled out a crumpled handkerchief and wiped her wet cheeks.

Cailin wiped at wetness on her own cheeks. “And Brody? Did all the lasses set their bonnets for him as well?”

Fiona nodded and a smile peeked through her tears. “But Brody never noticed. Always, from the age of fifteen, his heart and soul belonged to Megan.” Fiona gazed down at her gloved hands as if she’d said something she shouldn’t. As if she might have a secret love herself.

Cailin sighed. Did Avondale love her like Brody did Megan? She sat upright, swaying with the movement of the carriage, and offered a shadow of a smile. A stone jammed in her throat until it settled with a thud inside her chest. With his sickness, was he really capable of love?

Fiona giggled.

Cailin decided the lass’s breathy laughter erupted more from excitement than joy. Dimples etched Fiona’s sweet innocent expression. Fiona was fifteen. Did she already fancy herself in love? Perhaps with one of the earls she’d met at the masquerade? Surely not one of the fugitive Highlanders who survived that horrible battlefield in Culloden? One who still hid in the caves and bracken? She’d mentioned someone named Grady. Oh, yes, Cailin must take thought to Fiona’s future.

Fiona smiled fondly. “Such a comfort to know that Da, Duncan, Collin, and Angus, they are all biding in heaven with our Savior.”

Cailin nodded. “I’m so sorry for the great losses you’ve suffered.”

The carriage lurched, and Fiona grabbed Cailin’s hand to steady her balance.

Cailin smiled encouragement.

Fiona’s expression grew solemn, and her brow wrinkled. Then she smiled and gave a knowing toss of her bright curls. “Highland men are like that ye know.” Her blue-eyed gaze held a question deep inside its clear, honest depths. “Highland men are faithful to their wives until the day they die. Our men are as feisty as Highland bulls, but they are faithful. English men are not so, are they?”

Cailin shifted on the cushions and stretched her legs. “We should arrive soon.”

The question in Fiona’s gaze all but jumped out and bit Cailin.

She would not acknowledge it. The stone inside her chest made it hard to breathe. English men, especially gentry and those at court, often took mistresses. Their marriages were business matches between powerful houses forged to retain the power and the money.

Her own marriage legally bound Avondale to protect the MacMurry castle, land and tenants. In exchange, he received a fruitful wife and a very large dowry.

And now she knew why he’d had to lower his standards to wed a lowly daughter of a baron. Her heart twisted. Nevertheless, she would stand by him at any cost. And she
would
make this marriage a happy one. No matter how many black times he experienced when he could not account for his time. If only he would let her help him. Her mind returned to the conversation with Fiona.

“Ah, you sly lass. You are wise beyond your years. Please don’t tell me you are in love with a fugitive Highlander.”

“And so I won’t.”

Cailin sighed. She had asked the question the wrong way. She turned her irritation at herself to the coachman and banged her parasol against the carriage roof. “Mikey, can we not drive faster?”

Mikey’s voice floated down from the driver’s seat. “Nay, Milady. The horses be pulling hard. I donna want to wind them.”

“Is something wrong, Cailin?”

“No, of course not.” She must discover if Fiona was bewitched by a Highland fugitive. The gleam in Fiona’s eyes worried her, but Cailin dredged up a smile, sprinkled it with sugar, and smoothed her gloves over her wrists like she wished she could smooth her concern. “I packed all the herbs, unguents, and poultices I could find into the boot, along with several pots of good beef stew and some yeast biscuit dough.”

Fiona smiled. “I think a batch of haggis, and some tatties and neeps would be appreciated as well.”

“I asked cook if she could supply those. She sniffed and said she didn’t know how to fix them. She made a face and asked, did I think she was a Highlander?”

Fiona’s sunny disposition bubbled into laughter. “The bairns will love the stew. We can set the biscuit dough into the frying pan, tighten down the lid, and make an oven over the coals in the fireplace. The bairns will have a lunch fit for a king.”