Christina Rich - The Negotiated Marriage

The soft lilt of her accent ignited the black heart confined behind the brick and mortar of his chest. Her words pummeled him like a battering ram. Her words were similar to those he’d said to his own mother after his father left them with a leaky roof, no wood for the winter and no food for their bellies. Even in her illness and after all his father’s abuses, his mother had continued to defend him, but Duncan knew the truth: his father hadn’t even tried. Duncan had done what he could, but there weren’t many folks willing to help the son and wife of a scoundrel like Ewan Murray.

The pain of old wounds sliced through him like an ax splitting wood. To make matters worse, the sisters’ raw emotions filled the room. Duncan understood the rejection and the loneliness all too well and he did not wish to recall the depth of pain he’d felt when his father abandoned him and his mother. However, he could not stop his heartstrings from pulling taut and drawing him closer into their midst, closer to Camy. The sheen of her brown eyes dulled, beckoning him to shield her from all the hurts of this life. If he stayed, as he’d promised, he wouldn’t have the strength to resist his need to protect her. He reminded himself that he was no better than his father, no better than Camy’s. No matter how much he wished it otherwise.

With escape the only thing on his mind, he pulled the door closed and stepped beneath the stoop and off the porch, his toes sinking into the mud. He lifted his face to the punishing sting of the rain. Would his father’s past always chase him down and haunt his thoughts?

The land beckoned to him. However, the pounding in his head and the promise he’d made to Camy to remain by her side kept him from giving in to the need to run barefoot across the countryside as he’d done when he was a lad whenever his father had left, sometimes for months at a time, leaving his mother to suffer days of melancholy.

* * *

Camy slumped against the chair as the door closed behind him. The effort to act the lady almost forced her to embarrassment as she fought the roiling in her stomach. The sharp sting had long since turned into a deep burning, which seem to be spreading throughout her body. Although she was grateful he’d left, giving her a moment of reprieve from proper decorum, disappointment cut into her thoughts and she had a deep suspicion it had something to do with Duncan and his promise to stay by her side, and little to do with memories of her father’s abandonment. She’d long since carved him from her mind.

There were few men of her acquaintance who kept their word, so she didn’t understand why she believed Duncan would be different. Perhaps it had been the look in his eyes when he gave his word. As if he meant it. Hamish, with all his faults, had the same look when he meant to do as he said, which wasn’t often. It was why she had been convinced Hamish would never sell the land. Her uncle might be a lot of things right down to a no-good yellow belly at times, but when he made a promise with a look of determination, he kept it. Until now, it seemed.

“Here.” Ellie cupped her elbow and helped her stand to her feet. “Let’s get you out of your wet things before Dr. Northrop arrives.”

Camy groaned with each pull and tug as Ellie helped her change into a dry skirt and a loose-fitting bodice. She was near to suffering from the vapors by the time her sister fastened the last of the buttons after covering her wound with strips of linen. A quick tug of her hair had her knees wobbling and Camy didn’t think she’d be able to stand much longer. Ellie released Camy’s hair with an irritated sigh.

“We’ll not worry about tidying you up any more than necessary, but we do need to get your hair dried.” Ellie moved the chair closer to the fire and helped her sit. “Do you wish to speak about Mr. Murray before Northrop arrives?”

Turning sideways in the chair, she rested her head against the back of the chair, the spindles biting into her sensitive flesh as she sank against the hard wood. “There’s not much to tell. I found him unconscious by the river, beaten and with no shoes. Once he woke up he asked after Hamish and claimed to be purchasing my, er, our land.”

“I meant to discuss the wedding, Camy,” Ellie responded.

“There is nothing to discuss.”

“I tell you, Hamish is up to no good.” The sound of Ellie scrubbing the table met Camy’s ears. How many times could a person scrub an already well-scrubbed surface? A blur of purple squeezed between Camy and the warmth of the fire, chilling her limbs. The spoon clanked against the kettle. Camy didn’t need her spectacles to see Ellie’s frenzied state. Every brisk movement and every mumble beneath her sister’s breath spoke clearly. Water cascaded as Ellie scooped another cloth out of the kettle. Everything in the cabin seemed to halt until the dripping of water subsided. Ellie’s purple shadow swiveled away from the fire. The wet linen smacked against the table. “No doubt, he lost the land gambling.”

Camy lurched off the chair with a yelp, her hand pressing against the wound. “He wouldn’t. He promised. Besides, Mr. Murray doesn’t seem to be the gambling type.”

“And what do gamblers look like?” Ellie tossed.

“Miller,” she said without thinking. The young man who’d once been a friend had since gained shadows beneath his eyes and hard lines of worry creasing his mouth.

“That just goes to show you that you shouldn’t trust a man’s words.” Ellie scrubbed the table with a greater force than normal. “Not a Northrop’s, not a stranger’s and most definitely not Hamish’s. Who knows what he does while he’s gallivanting about leaving us here to fend for ourselves?”

“Our uncle may have left us at times, but he’s never broken his word to us, Ellie. And he wouldn’t gamble. He’s too tight-fisted with his purse.” Camy once again slumped onto the chair.

Ellie knew Hamish would never do such a thing. She had to. If she wavered and began believing the worst from their uncle, then Camy’s faith in him would begin to waver too. Was it possible he thought marriage was the only way to keep her and her sisters safe? With Mara too young, Camy knew she was the obvious choice to sacrifice for her sisters, especially since Ellie’s heart remained bruised from Benjamin Northrop’s rejection. “You didn’t have to send Mara for Northrop. You’ve tended all our scrapes and cuts thus far and we’re still alive.” With Dr. Northrop and his three sons practicing medicine, they had no way of knowing who would arrive. Camy didn’t relish Miller treating her. Especially if Mara told him about Duncan, but for Ellie’s sake she prayed Benjamin was nowhere close. And, no doubt, Hamish would shoot the elder Dr. Northrop once he crossed onto the Simses’ property before asking questions ending years of disagreement between the two old men.

“A bullet is quite another thing, Camy. How did you get shot anyways?”

Even with the burning in her shoulder, Camy almost laughed. “Entirely by accident.”

Ellie did laugh. “All of your mishaps are entirely by accident, dear sister.”

Camy recalled the last incident when Hound took off after Uncle Tommy, her pet hen. The poor, one-legged gal nearly lost her other leg when she became tangled up in Camy’s skirts. Somehow she was able to save the hen, but not without injury to her own shin. It wouldn’t have been so terrible if she hadn’t have been heading out to chop branches. Good thing Ellie excelled with a needle, leaving tight stitches and little scarring. Miller didn’t need another reason why one of the Sims sisters needed a husband. Particularly him, to particularly her. If she were to wed Duncan, she would no longer have to concern herself over Miller’s endless pursuit. She had no idea which would be the better of the two. Wedding a wastrel of a man who tried to dominate her with a heavy hand, or a man who would one day leave her broken just like her father had done?