Lyn Stone - The Highland Wife

Anger at her sire had added color to the smooth cream of her cheeks. The blue eyes had sparked when she had included him in her fit of pique. Whatever had caused her displeasure, he was glad that she showed some spirit. She would need it.

Again he faced the laird. “You did tell her?”

“What?” the old man asked warily, his gaze darting here and there, avoiding Rob’s.

Rob eyed him steadily, waiting, not bothering to define what the man already knew but was obviously reluctant to discuss.

“Aye, I told her, but I was brief.” He ducked his head, then looked up again. “And I left it late,” MacInness admitted.

“Late?” Rob repeated, sorely afraid he now understood the woman’s anger all too well. “How late?”

The laird looked shame-faced and ran a hand through his graying hair. “Today. Just now.”

Rob exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Damn.”

“She’ll grow accustomed,” MacInness said hopefully. “Mairi is a guid lass. Kind,” he added.

“When you told her,” Rob asked, hiding his apprehension, “she was angry?”

Rob did not want her to reject him, he realized. With others, he had not cared so much. Except for Jehannie. Her betrayal had nearly destroyed him. Since she had broken their long-standing betrothal, he had cared not one way or the other whether he ever wed anyone.

If he had not needed to produce an heir for Baincroft, he would never have agreed for Thomas to contract a match for him. He had felt no great rush to wed anyone. Not until he had seen this woman…

“Nay! Nay. ’Tis not that which angered her,” the laird assured him, shaking his head. “She but wants courting, I think. All women do.”

Rob nodded. Courting, of course. He should do that, yet he had little time or inclination for it. Nor did he think it necessary in this instance. The betrothal contract had been signed. The woman was his. All that remained was signing the marriage documents and repeating the vows. And the bedding, of course. Not likely he would forget that now that he had met her.

He chewed his bottom lip for a second, caught himself doing so and quickly smoothed his features. If he did not court her properly as her father suggested, she might be the one willing to forget that final detail of the ceremony that Rob so looked forward to accomplishing.

She could cry off the match and he would never touch that fair, smooth skin of hers the way he wanted, or inhale fully that subtle scent of roses she wore. Not to mention the other pleasures he now anticipated.

Fine, then. He would court, but he would not prolong it. Now, he only wished to wed and go home again.

Once they reached Baincroft, the lady would soon see that she had no reason to doubt his ability to care for her and the children they would make together. There, among his people, lay his best chance to impress a wife.

However, if she wanted constant courting and sweet words daily after their marriage, she might go lacking. Rob had tried being courtly with his first betrothed as soon as she’d grown old enough for it. That had come to no good end.

His beloved stepfather and brother had been right all those years ago to caution him against showing any gentler feelings he might have. They had said he must cultivate a stern and commanding demeanor in order to gain respect.

Though both had spoken of Rob’s dealings with other lords, knights and men of business, Rob wondered if the advice might not hold true for women he wished to respect him.

Should he play the smiling, teasing courtier with this one as he often did with the women he sought for pleasure? Or ought he to remain somewhat aloof, since she was a noble and about to be his wife? He wished Trouville or Henri were here to advise him in this.

He did not like to be away from Baincroft, especially in these strange surroundings where he knew only the four men who rode with him. Because of their low rank, he could not keep them close by in these delicate encounters with his future bride and the MacInness laird.

Had Thomas come with them to speak for him, matters might be proceeding more smoothly. Then this would not be so difficult because Thomas already knew these people. Unfortunately, that one lay abed back at Baincroft with a broken leg.

Rob damned his luck, losing the services of his friend and factor at such a critical time. The loss of his usual self-confidence plagued him. Jehannie’s doing, of course.

Only once, as a child needing the love of a father, had he given any particular care at all as to what a person thought of him or his abilities. Until Jehannie had refused to wed him.

Since that time, self-doubt had increased with every new acquaintance he made. He must somehow recapture his early certainty of his worthiness. His mother had worked too diligently to instill that for him to lose it forever. But he much doubted he would regain it here and now amongst these people.

Was it lack of courting alone that had put the Lady Mairi off? No matter how much he might wish that were the case, Rob found it hard to believe. Especially in view of what she had only just learned about him. That surely must play a part.

Well, it was her misfortune, then, if she could not deal with her lot in life. The bride price was paid. She must honor her father’s contract. Rob would have her.

The laird looked miserable, he noticed. Sad to be losing his daughter, Rob surmised. Losing her to such a man as the MacBain could not be easy for him.

Rob admitted he might feel the same way in like circumstance. Thomas said that he had explained everything in detail to MacInness. Since the laird had only told her just now, she would not have those details as yet.

Would she be consoled to know that Rob’s deafness would not pass down to their children? His mother assured him this was so, since he had been able to hear for a while after his birth. A fever had stolen the sounds.

Would it help her to know that he could hear some things? He scoffed at that as soon as he thought of it. Heavy drumbeats and shrill whistles did not count for much when nothing but muffled silence existed between the two extremes. No, she likely would not care about the fine points of it. To all intent and purpose, he was deaf as a stone and that was that.

The contract had cost him dearly because MacInness had not wanted to let Lady Mairi go to him as wife at first, so Thomas had said. However, the laird had needed to see to his daughter’s future now that he was growing old. Rob might not be able to hear the lass, but he could make her a very wealthy woman.

In return for the bride price, Rob would gain a crumbling estate near the border as her dower. A bog around rocks, that place. He had gone out of his way to see it on the way here. He might as well have accepted the woman dowerless for all the good that useless property would do him. But he knew such was not done, even among the lower classes, though Rob would have been well content with only her person after having seen her.

Rob needed a son to inherit sooner or later. Considering his deafness, it was not likely any other family of nobles who learned the truth about him would trust him with a daughter. He supposed he must concede something to MacInness for extending that trust.

“For two days, I court,” he promised MacInness, holding up two fingers for emphasis. “Then we wed and go.”

The laird slumped and nodded, then pushed heavily from his chair and flung a hand idly toward the tables at the head of the hall. “Come, eat.”

Rob took his seat in the place of honor. The Lady Mairi did not come to table at all.

The laird said nothing more to him until they had finished their meal. Then he turned and faced Rob with a frown. “Will you be good to my Mairi? Did you like her at all?”