Amanda Scott (25 page)

“I made no mistake, ma’am,” he said, affecting a patience he did not feel. “I have decided to marry her, and since I believe I am my own master, I need not explain my reasons for doing so. We shall be married on Christmas Eve.”

“Christmas Eve? But, Duncan, how can we arrange a wedding so quickly? You cannot have thought about it! We will have guests on Christmas Eve, of course, just as we always do, and even minstrels and a great deal of food, but a wedding requires much more. We must send out invitations and announcements, and Mary’s people will want to come, of course. But they are in Perthshire, you said, and cannot depend upon getting here at all if it snows again, which it looks like doing even now. And the banns! Why, no proper wedding could take place in so short a time, sir, but do not despair. Perhaps we can manage to arrange a ceremony in March, if you still want one then, although I do think that April would provide more reliable weather, or even June.”

“Christmas Eve,” he said firmly. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements. With travel as difficult as it is this time of year, you are right to point out that we cannot expect guests to come from any distance, so we’ll just make do with those already invited to share the evening with us. In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, I don’t want a great noise made about this, ma’am. Mary’s safety may depend upon it.”

“But her family—”

“We will inform them, of course, but legally, although she is still a minor and I believe they changed the law in England some months ago, forbidding minors to marry without their fathers’ consent, in Scotland a girl past the age of twelve still requires no one’s permission. At least—” He looked at Mary. “I hadn’t thought about it, lass, but is there anyone whose permission you believe you do require?”

“No,” she said. “Neil might think he has some authority as my cousin and chieftain of his branch of the Macleans. If he were here, I would certainly ask him to give me in marriage, but there is no one left who wields real authority over me.”

“Excellent.”

“It is not excellent, Duncan,” Lady Balcardane said fretfully. “Your father certainly does not think it is excellent. Pray, recall that you are his sole remaining son, my dear. I should think that you would have a care for his feelings, and—”

“Aye, he should have,” Balcardane snapped. “Here’s poor Serena, not knowing what to think, and how I shall tell Caddell about this, I do not know. You might have thought about that before you asked Mary Maclaine to be your wife.”

Serena sat in chilly silence, attending to her dinner and taking no part in the conversation, but Lord and Lady Balcardane went on at length throughout the meal, and afterward, in the yellow saloon. As usual, they often talked at the same time and without paying heed to each other, but Duncan managed to keep his temper.

Although it was clear to him now that his father’s discussions with Caddell had been more serious than Balcardane had suggested, it took no more than a glance at Mary to soothe any stirring annoyance. No sooner did his gaze meet hers than the serenity in her eyes calmed him. He therefore made no attempt to stem the tide of his parents’ discourse, and felt no inclination to coax Serena out of her sullens.

He had been concerned at first that they might upset Mary, but his betrothed replied in her tranquil way whenever one of them appealed directly to her for a comment. In less time than he had feared it would take, he was able to bid his parents and Serena good-night and usher Mary out of the room.

Accompanying her upstairs, he apologized for his family, but when she smiled, saying it was nothing, he left her at her bedchamber and turned with relief to his own. Kicking the door shut behind him, he greeted the sleepy dog thumping its tail on the hearth rug, then rang for his man. But if Hardwick expected conversation he was disappointed, for Duncan went silently through his ablutions while his mind skipped from one subject to another. One moment he found it difficult to imagine what could have possessed him to propose marriage to anyone, let alone to Mary. The next he found himself wondering what his wedding night would be like.

It had been quite a night, Mary thought, watching Ailis lay out her night shift. So much, she thought, for her firm principles. Black Duncan Campbell had made a declaration, and as if she had not had a brain in her head, she had said yes.

She could accomplish nothing good by reminding herself again that he could protect her from Ewan. That had not been the reason she had accepted his proposal. She could not even pretend that she had agreed in order to help him evade marriage to a woman he could not abide. Not for a moment did she believe Duncan needed her to do that. Why then, had he proposed?

Moving to stand before the listless fire, and reluctant to add more wood, knowing that the earl would disapprove, she told herself yet again that she could not imagine why Duncan had proposed or why she had accepted him.

She bit her lip. The last was not quite true, for she knew she had accepted on an impulse. She had been on the verge of saying no, and the word had come out yes, as if she had had no control over her lips or her voice. Clearly, she was mad.

“Shall I brush out your hair now, miss?”

“Aye,” Mary said absently, moving to sit on the dressing stool.

If she was crazy, what was his excuse? She had listened patiently to his explanation about Serena and Aunt Anne; but although it was true that Argyll showed more respect for Anne Stewart Maclean than for most women—or most men, for that matter—Mary did not believe for a moment that Duncan feared the duke, or that Argyll would take an excessive interest in Duncan’s marriage.

Frowning, she wondered if that last was true. Marriages must always be of importance to powerful men, and no one in Scotland was more powerful than Argyll. He would care if he disapproved of Duncan’s choice for a wife, and if he had approved of Serena, would he not disapprove of Mary Maclaine? Duncan could get himself into trouble—in more ways than one, now she came to think about it.

“I should have told him,” she muttered.

“What’s that, miss?”

“Nothing, Ailis. Pay me no heed.” She had not intended to speak aloud, but the errant thought had startled the words from her. Duncan still did not know about the MacCrichton treasure. He knew only that Ewan wanted her, and doubtless he believed Ewan had fallen in love with her. It must have seemed so to many people, she realized, because of the persistence with which Ewan had courted her.

“Ye look a bit unweel, Miss Mary,” Ailis said, “like Lady Serena. I hope ye ha’ no taken her woman’s cold, too. Ay-de-mi, but ye’d think it would ha’ taught the silly lass no tae go walking oot with her young man in such fractious weather.”

Diverted from her thoughts, Mary met the maid’s gaze in the mirror and said, “Serena’s woman has a lover here?”

Ailis shrugged. “As tae his being her lover, I dinna ken, miss, but she slips oot the noo and again tae meet someone. She was oot again the day.”

“It’s probably all a sham, poor girl, and he does not mean a single honeyed word he whispers to her,” Mary said grimly, thinking again of Ewan.

Ailis looked bewildered, as well she might, Mary thought, knowing her words must have sounded a bit daft. Surely most men were not like Ewan, but how many who had witnessed his courtship of her had doubted his sincerity?

Certainly, Duncan questioned it now because of what Ewan had been willing to do to her, but even so, she decided, he probably thought Ewan’s love merely a bit twisted. Unless she told him about the treasure, he would never know the whole truth, but if she told him, would he not insist that she use her gift to find it anyway, for the Campbells? Might he not prove as greedy in his cause as Ewan and Allan were in theirs? If he did, he could make her life miserable.

“But if I don’t tell him …”

“Tell who, Miss Mary?” Ailis said, putting the brush on the dressing table. “I dinna like the look o’ ye, miss. Shall I brew ye a posset? It will help ye sleep, miss.”

“I do not require a posset, Ailis, but thank you. I have just been thinking about some things. Just fetch my cap, and then you may go. I can manage the rest.”

“Aye, miss.” But the maid looked doubtful.

Mary got ready for bed quickly enough, but it was long before she slept.

Next morning, Lady Balcardane came to her room, bearing in her arms a lovely pale blue silk gown trimmed with white lace. “It was my wedding dress, my dear, and there is no one else to wear it, but I hoped to have a daughter one day, and now I shall. I’d be so pleased if you would wear it. ‘Marry in blue, love ever true,’ you know. I’ve given Duncan one of my rings for you, as well, my dear.”

With unexpected tears in her eyes, Mary hugged her and said, “I would be honored to wear your dress, and your ring, ma’am. You are so very kind to me!”

“Well, you know, I thought about some of the things I said last night, and I am not very pleased with myself, Mary, but the news came as such a shock, you know. I am certain that Duncan never gave anyone the smallest reason to believe that he was contemplating matrimony of any kind. But he must have been thinking about it, you know, for a man simply does not blurt out a declaration like that without having thought about it a great deal.”

“He surprised me, too, ma’am.”

“Do you love him, Mary?”

The question caught her by surprise, and when she did not answer, Lady Balcardane said with a self-conscious laugh, “I know that persons of our sort do not fall in love. Balcardane says that even the thought of it is vulgar, but this happened so quickly, and I thought that perhaps … since you have no dowry …”

“I see how it was that you came to wonder, ma’am, but I am afraid I accepted simply because it seemed the wisest thing for me to do. Duncan wants a wife who will not … That is, he said that he thought I should be conformable, you see.”

“I do see,” Lady Balcardane said with a chuckle. “Serena drives him to distraction with her nonsense. Balcardane ought to have known within a week of their meeting each other that his scheme would not succeed, but I don’t suppose he expected it to lead to this. I have given the matter much thought, myself, and I shall not be at all surprised, my dear, if the pair of you don’t suit each other down to the ground. You will not mind Duncan’s temper tantrums, for I have seen how little they affect you, and he will be grateful for your calm and composure. I daresay the two of you will lead a pleasant, placid life together.”

Since the thought of such an existence made Mary feel rather sick, it was as well that she did not believe life with Duncan would be anything of the sort. If she had believed it, events in the week that followed would quickly have disillusioned her. More than once Balcardane urged his son to change his mind, pressing him to do so until Duncan did lose his temper, making it clear that everyone around him had better tread cautiously.

Even Mary, determined to help the countess as much as she could in the many preparations for the Christmas Eve festivities, took extra care not to irritate him. In addition, she managed to put up with Serena’s continued barbs, constant complaints, and her megrims.

When Mary made the mistake of telling Duncan she thought Serena truly disappointed by his choice, she instantly found herself the target of his exasperation.

“Don’t even speak to me of that selfish chit,” he snapped. “I have had all I can tolerate of her jibes and whining. She can thank the Fates that I did not wed her, for I am very sure I’d have beaten her soundly before the wedding night was over, and afterward at least weekly until she learned to keep her fool mouth shut.”

“Dear me, how violent you are, sir,” she said placidly. “Until I met Ewan, I did not think Highland men generally were given to beating women or children. I do hope you will not ever beat me.”

His eyes gleamed with appreciation. “Don’t tempt me, lass.”

“Certainly not, sir.”

Although his mood improved for the moment, with his father frequently pinching at him, and Serena constantly suggesting reasons that he would regret a marriage to Mary, it was not long before he was out of temper again.

Christmas Eve arrived at last, however, and Mary found herself in Lady Balcardane’s blue silk gown, standing at Duncan’s side in the yellow saloon, facing the parson and reciting the lines of the marriage service. Behind her, the buzzing crowd included Lord and Lady Balcardane, a number of surprised and delighted folks from Ballachulish village and the local Appin gentry, all of whom had submitted to a rather unusual welcome for such a festive occasion.

Over Lady Balcardane’s indignant objections, Duncan had insisted that each guest be identified upon arrival and that no one be admitted who was not known by at least two others. Only when he explained that he did not want to chance admitting anyone who would cause trouble, did Lady Balcardane agree.

The audience also included Serena, still suffering from her cold, as well as any men at arms who were not on guard duty, the servants, Chuff, and Pinkie.

Despite such company, Serena’s displeasure was almost tactile. Mary felt it even when she was not looking at her. When Duncan put the ring on her finger, and they turned so the parson could present them as man and wife, Lady Balcardane dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. Beside her, Serena’s eyes sparked fire. She said all that was proper, but her tone was brittle, and she did not deceive Mary.

Finding herself alone with Duncan for a few moments while everyone moved toward the hall, where tables had been set up for dinner, Mary said quietly, “I am sorry she is so distressed, sir. I simply don’t know what to say to her.”

“She wants a good skelping,” Duncan said curtly. “Ignore her.”

After dinner, Lady Balcardane bustled up to them and said briskly, “I know Duncan said you do not want to move into his room, Mary dear, but I do think it would be more convenient for you to have one a little closer to him. I did not like to suggest one of those when you arrived, of course, because it would not have been seemly to put you so near him. But if he should come to visit you where you are, it might be just a little disconcerting to be … that is …” She looked helpless for a moment, then added in a rush, “To be right next door to Ian’s room, you know!”