CLAIMED BY A HIGHLANDER (THE DOUGLAS LEGACY Book 2) Page 26

  “Lady Sybil told us she was not going far, and that the laird”—the guard paused and waggled his eyebrows—“would know where to find her.”

  Rory closed his eyes. Without actually saying so, Sybil had managed to convince the guards that he and his bride were meeting for an outdoor tryst. If he found her quickly, no one would be the wiser.

  “That wife of yours had such a fetching way about her when she said, Don’t spoil our fun.” The older guard tilted his head and batted his eyelashes in a ridiculous imitation. “Ach, brought back sweet memories from when the wife and I were newlyweds.”

  Christ above. “How long ago did she leave?”

  “The sky was glowing pink with the coming dawn,” the older guard said.

  The guard was a damned poet. Rory clenched his jaw to keep from shouting.

  “In truth, we didn’t expect ye to keep her waiting.”

  “How long has it been?” Rory asked.

  “An hour, perhaps more,” the other guard said.

  Rory stifled a curse. Sybil was a skilled rider, and she had a good lead on him.

  “Keep our secret,” Rory said, and winked. “Not a word of this to anyone.”

  He spurred his horse and galloped out the gate. Please, God, keep her safe until I find her. Wherever she was and however far she’d gone, he would find her. He had no notion how he would persuade her to come back with him once he did, but one way or another, he would bring her home.

  Now that he had driven her away, he knew in his heart the only truth that mattered.

  Sybil belonged with him.

  When Rory came to the river, the trail split in opposite directions. Ignoring the branch that followed the river inland, he turned Curan east toward the sea, where Sybil could seek a boat to carry her away.

  He had ridden no more than a half-mile from the castle when he saw her sitting on a rock by the river with her back to him and her horse grazing nearby. She appeared in no hurry.

  Since she did not look as if she had taken a fall and injured herself, Rory dismounted and approached her quietly through the tall grass. He did not want to spook her. Sweat glistened on the horse’s back. She had ridden him hard and farther from the castle, but something had made her turn around. He hoped it was him.

  When she looked over her shoulder and saw him, she did not seem surprised. He sat down beside her, careful not to touch her. He felt as if she had a protective layer around her that he should not attempt to breach, at least not yet.

  “I was five miles down the trail,” she said, staring at the river. “Ye would never have caught me.”

  He did not argue the point, though he most definitely would have found her and brought her home.

  “I’m grateful ye decided to turn around.”

  “I didn’t do it for you,” she said. “I did it for the boy.”

  The boy? It took him a long moment to realize she meant the Grant lad.

  “I remembered my promise that I would be his friend and mind his back among you MacKenzies,” she said. “So I couldn’t leave yet.”

  Yet. The word hit him like a punch in the gut. The fact that she had no place she could go was no comfort.

  “Let me explain,” he said.

  “’Tis a bit late for that, don’t ye think?” she said. “I believe I understand all I need to know.”

  “Ye don’t.”

  “Ye have a son, ye refused to wed his mother,” she said, ticking her points off with her fingers, “and now that the poor lass is dead, her family expected ye to make things right through a marriage to her sister.”

  “It sounds far worse than it is,” he said. “There’s more to the story, if you’ll only listen.”

  “Oh, aye, there’s more,” she said. “I forgot to add that all the while ye were seducing innocent young lasses, ye believed ye were bound to wed me!”

  Now she was being ridiculous, but he had the sense to bite his tongue. No man was expected to abstain before the marriage contract was consummated.

  “Whether ye listen or no,” he said, “I’m going to tell ye what happened.”

  “I can’t stop ye.”

  “A few months before we fought at Flodden and I was taken prisoner, my father hosted a gathering of Highland chieftains,” Rory began his tale. “Grant brought his family, including his eldest daughter. I didn’t know at the time that Hector had an eye for the lass and had asked my father to negotiate a marriage between them during the gathering.”

  Sybil folded her arms and turned her face away. Still, he knew she was listening.

  “The lass was seventeen, beautiful and headstrong. As best I can guess, thinking about it afterward, she met Hector and decided to thwart the marriage plan.”

  ***

  “She wished to wed you instead of Hector?” Sybil’s curiosity got the better of her, and the question slipped out.

  “She didn’t wish to wed me,” he said. “She only wanted to use me to ruin the marriage arrangement with Hector.”

  “What do ye mean by that?”

  “Even as a bairn, I knew Hector had a deep grudge against me, but he kept it well hidden from everyone else while my father was alive,” he said. “Grant’s daughter was an astute and determined lass, and I believe she saw it.”

  Despite herself, the thought of Rory as a child being the focus of his uncle’s hatred tugged at her heart. She would not, however, let sympathy for the boy he once was excuse how he had hurt and humiliated her.

  “So she forced ye against your will, did she?” Sybil said, letting her voice drip with sarcasm.

  “I was fifteen and not likely to say nay when a lass that beautiful told me to meet her in a storage room in the undercroft. I thought she meant for us to steal a few kisses,” Rory said. “I won’t say I was blameless, but when things moved quickly beyond kisses, my wits lagged behind.”

  Sybil narrowed her eyes at him. “But it wasn’t just the one time ye met her, was it?”

  Rory gave her a how-in-the-hell-did-you-know look and heaved a sigh. “Every time the lass crooked her finger, I went to meet her.”

  Of course he did. “I take it her plan to avoid marrying Hector succeeded.”

  “She told Hector she’d given her virginity to me,” Rory said. “That was a lie, but all Hector needed to hear was that I’d had her first.”

  “What I don’t understand,” she said, “is why your fathers didn’t force you and the lass to wed.”

  “She said that if I told anyone we’d been together, she’d deny it,” Rory said. “She told me she would never have me for a husband. Though I was not keen on marrying her either, the lass was so adamantly against it that she slashed my pride.”

  “But Hector must have told.”

  “Nay,” Rory said, shaking his head. “It would have shamed him to have everyone know that the lass he wished to wed had gone to bed with me. He and I knew, and that was bad enough. It was one more reason for him to hate me.”

  “And you told no one either?”

  “That would have ruined the lass’s reputation,” he said. “I assumed she planned to pretend to be a virgin when she did wed.”

  “If no one told, then what broke off the marriage negotiations?”

  “Hector didn’t say it was me, but he advised the two chieftains that the lass had been with other men,” Rory said. “The chieftains gave out the story that the pair was unsuited, which was true so far as it went. I thought that was the end of it.”

  “Three months later, I left with the MacKenzie warriors to fight the English. As ye know, I was injured in the Battle of Flodden and held prisoner. Sometime after I returned, I heard that Grant’s daughter was with child and refused to name the father. There were whispers that the lass said she had been with too many men to remember.”

  “Do ye believe that?”

  “I did at the time,” Rory said. “I was too inexperienced to see the anger beneath her laughter and flirtation. Now I suspect there was a man she wanted to marry but could not. Perhaps
he was someone her father did not deem important enough for a chieftain’s daughter.”

  “If she refused to name you, how does her family know you’re the father?” Sybil asked.

  “They don’t know I am,” Rory said. “She died of a fever a few months ago. The Grant chieftain claims she confessed on her deathbed that the child is mine.”

  “Ye did bed her.” Every time she crooked her finger.

  “Aye, and if she had told me the child was mine, I would have accepted it as my duty to claim the lad whether I believed her or no,” he said. “But years later, when her family attempts to dupe me by concocting this story of her deathbed confession? Nay. I cannot accept that.”

  Sybil did not speak another word on the ride back to the castle or as they walked from the stable to the keep. She ignored the curious looks as they crossed the hall and continued up the stairs to their chamber in silence. He shut the door and still she did not speak.

  “Now that I’ve explained it all,” he said, “do ye understand why I didn’t tell you?”

  “I do,” she said. “Ye didn’t trust me. Ye still don’t. And ye used me to avoid marrying Grant’s other daughter.”

  “I didn’t want to marry her, but that is not why I came for you.”

  “You berated me and broke my heart because of what I didn’t tell you,” she said. “All the while, you were keeping all this from me—the boy, the marriage negotiations, the would-be bride.”

  He felt like shite for hurting her. He reached for her, but she slapped his hands away.

  “I should have told you,” he said.

  “Aye, ye should have, instead of making a fool of me in front of the entire clan.”

  “We each had our secrets. I promise I’ll not keep things from ye again. From here forward, I want us to be honest with each other.”

  “All right, then, I’ll be honest.” She planted her hand on her hip and poked his chest. “I believe that boy is your son. And you’ve no cause to deny him because his mother wouldn’t have ye.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Sybil took a deep breath and knocked on the door to the guest chamber. The servants had told her that Flora Grant had not left the chamber since her dramatic arrival yesterday. So long as she remained here as the chieftain’s wife and lady of the castle, she would not shirk her duties. As painful as the situation was for her, she ought to ease her guest’s discomfort if she could.

  “I told ye before,” Flora called out in response to Sybil’s repeated knock, “I don’t need anything.”

  When Sybil opened the door, Flora jumped to her feet. Her hair and clothes were as disheveled as when she arrived, but now her high color was gone and her eyes were red and puffy.

  “I’m sorry,” Flora said, looking flustered. “I thought ye were a maidservant.”

  “I’m sorry to disturb ye, but I want to speak with ye,” Sybil said. When the lass looked wildly about her as if searching for an escape, Sybil added, “If it’s any comfort, I’m uneasy about this as well, but we must talk for young Kenneth’s sake.”

  Flora nodded and sat on the edge of the lone bench with her back straight as a board. Sybil sat beside her and smoothed her skirts.

  “Ye do understand,” Sybil said, “that as the MacKenzie chieftain’s only son and heir, Kenneth must be raised here with his father and clan?”

  Flora’s bottom lip trembled. “Aye. My father is set on it.”

  “I imagine you’ve been like a mother to Kenneth since your sister died. The bond ye have with him will always be special.” Sybil laid her hand over Flora’s. “I want ye to know that you’re welcome to visit him as often as ye like.”

  Flora burst into tears and wept so hard her shoulders shook. Sybil patted her back and gave Flora her handkerchief.

  “Do ye mean it?” Flora asked in a voice muffled by her hands covering her face.

  “I do,” Sybil said. “I want what’s best for the lad, just as you do.”

  Flora startled Sybil by throwing her arms around her. The lass’s hair was such a wild mess that Sybil had to lift her chin to breathe.

  “I was afraid I’d lose him forever,” Flora blubbered.

  Sybil was exhausted by all the emotions of the last day, but she had one more thing she needed to say. Gently she eased Flora to sit up on her own.

  “I understand that you expected to become Rory’s wife—and ye would be if not for me.” Sybil swallowed and forced herself to go on. “I am sorry for the pain and embarrassment I’ve caused ye.”

  “Ye can rest easy on that account,” Flora said, waving the damp handkerchief. “While Rory MacKenzie is a verra fine looking man, I never had my heart set on him. In truth, I’m furious with him for refusing to claim Kenneth and even angrier with my father for forcing my nephew on a man who doesn’t want him.”

  “Ye did appear to be a wee bit upset when ye arrived.”

  “A wee bit?” Flora said. “Ach, I must have been a sight!”

  “I’m afraid ye were,” Sybil said, fighting a smile.

  When Flora threw her head back and laughed, Sybil joined her. It felt good to share a laugh with another woman after so many days of tension and misery.

  “I’m in no hurry at all to wed anyone,” Flora said. “I would have married the MacKenzie so that I could be here to protect my nephew, but I can see now that you’ll do that for me.”

  “Rory would never harm Kenneth, nor any child.”

  “Hmmph.” Flora gave her a skeptical sideways glance.

  “For as long as I’m here, I’ll look out for him,” Sybil said.

  “I know ye will,” Flora said, gripping Sybil’s arm. “Ye may look and act like a princess, but underneath, you’re a fighter like me.”

  “I’m sure your family is worried about ye,” Sybil said. “’Tis time ye came down to the hall.”

  “I’m too embarrassed after the scene I made.”

  “Sometimes a lass has to make a scene,” Sybil said. “In my family, I’m rather famous for them.”

  “But I’m such a mess,” Flora said, looking down at herself. “My father will chastise me for weeks for coming to the table looking like this.”

  “I’ve already sent for a bath and a clean gown.” Sybil stood to leave. “I’ll return to help fix your hair, and then we’ll go downstairs together.”

  When Flora embraced her once more, Sybil squeezed her eyes shut against a sudden wave of longing for her sisters. Though no one could replace them, she was glad to have made a friend.

  The warm glow she felt was but a brief respite from despair, and it drained out of her like water through a sieve the moment she closed the door behind her.

  ***

  Rory’s hall was crowded with Grants, which soured his mood. Why were they still here? He despised being pushed and had no intention of giving them what they wanted.

  Ignoring the glares directed his way, he poured himself a whisky and kept watch on the arched entrance to the stairwell that led to the upper floors. He had not seen Sybil since they returned to the castle and she slammed the bedchamber door in his face.

  At least she had not left him, but he’d lost her heart. And he had no idea how to win her back.

  He swallowed hard when Sybil swept into the hall leading Grant’s daughter by the hand. What was Sybil up to now? Their guest had undergone a remarkable transformation from a raging demon to a respectable lass, but Rory kept his eyes on Sybil.

  When Grant charged toward them, apparently intent on ranting at his daughter for her earlier behavior, Sybil took his arm and drew him aside. Rory started across the hall to protect his wife, but she caught his eye and shook her head. She and Grant proceeded to have what appeared to be an intense conversation. What in the hell did she have to say to him?

  As soon as Grant left her side to speak with his sons, Rory joined her.

  “How did ye get that madwoman to calm down?” he whispered, glancing at the Grant lass.

  “She’s not mad,” Sybil said. “She was upset, and
understandably so.”

  “That lass was screaming like a banshee yesterday,” he said. “How did ye manage to calm her down?”

  “I assured her that ye would not harm the lad.”

  “Ach! As if that needed to be said.”

  “It did,” she said. “And I can’t say she was persuaded.”

  Rory was offended. He was also very grateful he didn’t have to marry the Grant lass. Now if he could only get rid of his guests, he could try to make amends to his wife.

  “I don’t suppose that stubborn old man told ye he’s giving up and going home?” Rory said, nodding toward the Grant chieftain.

  “He’ll not leave until this matter with his grandson is settled,” she said. “Unless ye want these Grants as permanent guests, I suggest ye come to an agreement with him about the lad.”

  “I’ll not let him force my hand.” This was not a conversation he wanted to have with her, but at least she was speaking to him.

  She turned and fixed angry violet eyes on him. “Can ye afford to make the Grants your enemies now?”

  “Ye know I can’t.”

  “Then meet the man halfway,” she said. “Grant told me that if ye let Kenneth remain here, that would show you’re considering claiming him and would satisfy him for now.”

  “But I’m not considering it. I don’t believe the lad is mine,” Rory said for what felt like the hundredth time. He took her hand. “Our son should be my heir and the next chieftain of Clan MacKenzie. Don’t ye want that too?”

  “Nay, I don’t.” She jerked her hand away. “I wouldn’t have my son be a thief and take it from the rightful heir. He’d be no better than Hector.”

  Rory tried to hold on to his temper and failed. “Do not compare any son of mine to Hector.”

  “You’ve let your pride blind ye to the truth.”

  “And what truth is that?”

  “Your blood runs through that lad’s veins. As I see it, ye have a duty to him, and ’tis high time ye accepted it.”

  “I’ll do anything else ye asked,” he said.

  “Then let the lad stay here.”