School For Heiresses 3- Beware A Scot's Revenge (36 page)

And Venetia…His breath caught to remember Venetia, a little slip of a thing, worrying herself sick over how her parents argued late at night. He’d made light of her concerns, telling her that married people always argued.

How wounded to the heart she must have been after her mother’s death. Of course, he hadn’t been around to see
that.
Oh no, he’d already run off to become a soldier, because his father had betrayed him.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
His blood ran cold. That finally made sense, too. His father, the adulterer, had served him up to Duncannon, who’d probably been mad with worry over his wife’s pregnancy. His father, the coward, had lacked the courage to support his son in the wake of his own awful sin. Easier to let Lachlan suffer, in hopes that throwing Duncannon that sop would reduce his own responsibility. But that wasn’t the only sop he’d thrown, no. Father had let the loan slide, and in the process had let his entire clan suffer. His clan and his wife and his son. Because he’d taken what wasn’t his own. Because he was too much a hypocrite to admit it. A self-righteous ass, that was Alasdair Ross. Lachlan wandered blindly down the path to Braidmuir. But Father wasn’t the only one, was he? Lachlan winced to remember the self-righteous nonsense he’d blathered at Venetia to justify the kidnapping. Duncannon had shown him mercy at every turn, never seeking to have him hanged, never pursuing him as a criminal, and only sending men to beat him after Lachlan had driven him too far. So it wasn’t guilt over not repaying the loan that made Duncannon reluctant to stop him. No, it had probably been fear—that any investigation into Lachlan and the feud might expose his mortifying secrets. Duncannon had simply not wanted to destroy his daughter’s fond memories of her mother, and an innocent lady’s fond memories of her husband. Even Lachlan’s own memories. In his own bullheaded way, Duncannon had been protecting them.

And Lachlan had repaid him by stealing his daughter, taking her innocence, and tricking her into marrying him.

The guilt threatened to choke him.

He looked up, startled to find himself in the glen where he and Venetia used to see each other so often as children. Where he would fish and she would skip around pronouncing him too scruffy for a baronet’s heir.

The memory shot a shaft of pain through his chest. She’d been right—he was too scruffy, too unscrupulous, too hasty to pass judgment without determining all the facts. Too eager to ruin a man’s life without just cause.

He’d thought he’d changed, grown responsible, changed his wild ways for more sober ones. But he hadn’t. Just like Father, he’d hidden a dirty hand beneath a clean glove. Well, no more. The battle between him and Duncannon ended now. Even if he had to tear his heart out of his chest to ensure it.

“Did you find him?” Venetia cried as Jamie entered the drawing room. He gazed at Venetia, Lady Ross, Aunt Maggie, and Colonel Seton, then sighed. “He told me not to tell you where he is. He wants to be alone for a while. That’s what he said.”

“But why?” Venetia rose to pace the room, her heart twisting in her chest. “What good does it do for him to sit brooding?”

“He probably just needs time to think things through.” But worry etched lines in Lady Ross’s brow. “I’m
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
sure he’ll be fine. Lachlan’s not the kind to do anything foolish.”

Venetia looked at Lady Ross and her throat constricted. The woman had been dealt quite a blow to her memories, yet here she was, clearly anxious over her son.

And with good reason. “Yes, but Lachlan has rather rigid ideas about justice and right and wrong. The longer he sits brooding, the more it will settle inside him like a cancer. We both know how he is—he takes things more to heart than anyone realizes.”

More even than she. Though it still hurt to think of Mama, her sweet, laughing mama, lying in another man’s arms, it didn’t strike her as deeply as she’d expected. After the initial sting, she’d realized that she’d barely known her mother. Venetia had always remembered her as the perfect lady moving in perfect circles through a perfect manor, almost like a fairy tale. Or a ballad. But life wasn’t either one, and people could have two faces. She’d learned that from Lachlan when he’d stripped her lady’s facade from her to unearth the woman beneath. Being a lady didn’t mean being dead inside.

She wasn’t surprised that Papa had thought otherwise. Or that once he’d discovered the flaw in his fairy-tale wife, he’d turned to hiding from it, hiding the secret away. He’d turned to loathing Scotland and Highlanders and everything associated with that part of his life. He’d abandoned his people and his land. Although that was no answer, she could understand it. His memories must have plagued him sorely. To live here would have meant seeing Rosses every day beneath his very nose. And now that she was married to one…

She caught her breath. How would she ever make Papa easy with that? Would she have to give him up to have Lachlan? Or give Lachlan up to soothe Papa’s pride?

No, she wouldn’t do it. This could be settled. There could be peace. It had been sixteen years, for heaven’s sake! It was time to lance the boil that had been festering for years. Time to heal. Lachlan would surely see that. He had to. Somehow she’d make Papa see it, too. But as the hour grew late and there was no sign of her husband, she began to despair. She understood his anger, but not his need to be alone. They could comfort each other if he would only come home. She spent the evening pacing, worrying. And it didn’t help when she blundered upon Aunt Maggie standing outside in the dark, wrapped in Colonel Seton’s intimate embrace. They sprang apart, but not before she’d seen them kissing.

“I was looking for Lachlan,” she murmured, embarrassed.

“He hasn’t come this way, lass,” the colonel said. Then he seized her aunt’s hand. “I know this isn’t the time, but I thought I should tell you…when this is done, I intend to marry your aunt.” He stared fondly down into Aunt Maggie’s face. “The foolish woman has actually agreed to have me.”

The sight of them in love drove a stake through her chest. “Even though you helped Lachlan kidnap her only niece?” Venetia snapped, then became instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m glad he did it, or I would never have met him.” She stared out into the night. “I’m just so worried about him.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Her aunt came to her side. “It will be all right, my dear. I know it will.”

Venetia wished she could believe that. But later, after everyone had retired and she lay alone in the master bedchamber they’d shared for only one night, she began to despair again. If Lachlan, the randiest fellow in creation, wouldn’t even come to her bed, what hope was there? And why wouldn’t he come? The next morning she awoke with a dull ache in her heart, only to find that one more person had arrived for their little party.

Papa.

He roared into the yard of Rosscraig like a typhoon. She could hear him all the way upstairs, riding his horse back and forth before the manor, shouting, “Venetia! Damn it, Venetia, where are you?”

Throwing her wrap over her nightdress, she went to the window and thrust her head out. “I’m here, Papa! I’m here!”

When he looked up to see her leaning out, the relief flooding his haggard face brought tears to her eyes. If she’d ever doubted that her father loved her, such doubts were put firmly to rest now. He’d ridden recklessly into his enemy’s camp without any of his own men. She didn’t know if that meant he was mad or brave, but she didn’t care. She was just so amazingly glad to see him.

“Hold on!” he cried, his expression fierce. “I’ll find a ladder to get you out!”

She laughed. “Stay right there—I’m coming down. I’m not a prisoner, for pity’s sake.”

Not even bothering to dress, she hurried to meet him in front of the manor, while the news spread through the estate and people rushed out to see the reunion. He jumped down from his horse to catch her up in his arms, his body shaking as violently as if someone had just snatched it from the icy cold loch. She drew back to look at his dear face, taking in his poor color and the dark circles under his eyes. Tears clogged her throat to see how frail he’d become in just a few weeks. “Oh, Papa.” She smoothed back his gray hair with a trembling hand. “You haven’t been taking your tonic, have you? Or eating enough or—”

Her breath snagged on her sobs, and she clutched him to her again, vowing she would do whatever it took to make this right for him. To keep him from hurting more. This time he was the one to pull back, his eyes searching for any little evidence of harm. “You look better than I dared hope to expect. Ross didn’t…hurt you, did he?”

“No, Papa. He was a perfect gentleman. And ever since we arrived, I’ve been staying here with his mother. Lady Ross has taken very good care of me.” She glanced beyond him to his horse. “Did you ride all this way alone?”

“From Inverness only. I came by ship. We docked there late last night, and I had a devil of a time finding a horse to rent. Ross said come alone, so I did.” His jaw tightened. “Brought the ransom, too, though it’s hidden at Braidmuir. He won’t see a penny of it unless he lets you go.”

“You brought the money,” she said.

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“And myself, the two things he wanted.” He flashed her a wan smile. “Because all I wanted was you safe.”

“That’s what you have, Duncannon,” came a voice from the beech grove beside the manor. Her heart in her throat, Venetia turned to find Lachlan striding toward them with Jamie behind him. He looked even worse than Papa, if that was possible. He wore a hastily donned shirt and trousers, a rumpled coat, and boots, nothing else. His hair was wilder than usual, and his beautiful eyes were shadowed with guilt. She’d seen many emotions on her husband’s face, but never guilt. The sight of it made her ache down deep.

“So, the scoundrel himself has slunk out of hiding, has he?” Papa’s face glowed with an unholy anger as he looked upon Lachlan. “I suppose you’re here to collect yer money.”

“No,” Lachlan said as he approached. “I don’t want the money.”

That seemed to bring Papa up short. Then he scowled. “I’ll be giving it to you all the same. I want you to leave my family alone, you blood-sucking divil, and for that I’ll pay the ransom. But we’ll be clear on this, Ross—’tis money extorted from me, and naught else. I dinna
owe
you a damned thing.”

As the blood drained from Lachlan’s face, Venetia wanted to rush to his side and hold him. But first she had to deal with her father.

“Papa,” she murmured. “I know about the loan and why you didn’t repay it.” When his startled gaze flew to hers, she whispered, “I know about Mama and Sir Alasdair.”

Horror and shame filled his face. “Ross told you? But how did
he
know—”

“No, Aunt Maggie told both of us and Lady Ross last night. She thought it best that we hear the truth before you came.”

Looking stunned, he glanced at her aunt, who’d just rushed out to join the group, with Colonel Seton not far behind. “You knew?” he asked.

She nodded. “Susannah told me before she died. Quentin—”

“You had no right to speak of it!” he cried, heedless of the other people crowding around. “It was private, none of yer concern!”

Venetia laid her hand on his arm. “I’m glad she did. Now we can put this nastiness behind us.”

Her father ignored her, whirling on Lachlan. “You! This is all yer fault. You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? You had to go digging into the past, uncovering things that should never have seen the light of day—”

“I know,” Lachlan said hoarsely. “That’s why I’m here now, my lord. I ask no mercy. You have a right to yer justice. I’ll accept any sentence, suffer any indignity for kidnapping Venetia. If I’d had any idea of what Father did, I would never have—”

He stopped, his voice thick with emotion, then steadied his shoulders. “But now that I know, I mean to take whatever punishment you dole out. Do what you will with me—have me horsewhipped, arrested,
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
and put on trial for being the Scourge, whatever you will. I won’t fight you.”

His speech started an angry murmuring among his clan, who didn’t know the circumstances, but it broke Venetia’s heart. Lachlan shouldn’t take so much upon himself. He’d acted to right what he perceived as a wrong. Did it really matter so much that his perception had been flawed?

“I ought to have you hanged,” Papa said in a low, fierce voice. Lachlan didn’t even flinch. “Aye. Kidnapping is a hanging offense.”

“No!” She threw herself in front of Papa. “I won’t let you!”

“I said I ought to, gel,” he grumbled, “not that I would.” He paused to scan the yard where Rosses stood about in confusion, not sure who was the enemy now and who the friend. “His mother and clan depend on him. Why do you think I haven’t tried to have him arrested before? I knew he was only doing what he thought was right.” Anger flared in his face. “Though you went too far when you took Venetia, Ross.”

“Your men nearly killed him, Papa.” She turned to gaze upon the man she loved. “They beat him half to death. Months after it happened, he still can’t walk without pain.”

Shame etched her father’s wrinkled brow. “Aye, and that was wrong. I never wanted that.” He slid his arm about her waist. “I don’t want you punished, Ross. I don’t want anything from you except my daughter. And to be left alone.”

Lachlan took a shuddering breath, then said in a low rasp, “That I can give you, sir.”

A horrible foreboding seized Venetia. “You can’t give me back, Lachlan. You’re my husband.”

Her father’s shocked gaze swung to her. “Your husband?”

“Yer daughter is mistaken, my lord,” Lachlan said in the same toneless voice he’d used that night in Kingussie, when he’d tried to put her out of his heart.

With her belly churning, she left her father’s side, hardly able to believe what he’d just said. “I’m your wife. Why would you deny it?”