Whence Came a Prince (35 page)

Rose agreed without hesitation. “Have you another altered gown to show me?”

“Nae.” Leana swallowed; the lump in her throat would not be moved. “But I do need to speak with you, dearie. Come as soon as you can.”

W
hen Rose knocked on Leana’s door, it opened at once as if her sister had been poised with her hand on the latch.

Leana’s blue eyes had a wary look about them. “Come sit with me, won’t you?”

Rose followed her toward the corner opposite the sunny window, the coolest spot in the room, where two chairs were placed close together. She sank into one of them, hoping she might find a comfortable position. “Did your back ache when you carried Ian?” She shifted in her seat. “Nae doubt ’twas our long ride in the chaise.”

“Perhaps.” Leana reached for the round pillow on her chair. “Lean forward for me.” She slipped the pillow behind Rose, fitting it snugly against the curve of her back. “Better?”

Rose noticed her sister’s cheeks were rosier than usual, and her brow bore a fine sheen. “I believe
you
are the fauchie one.”

“Only warm.” A light breeze ruffled the curtains as Leana took her seat. “Though it has been an … eventful day.”

“Oo aye! Did Jamie tell you we saw Lillias Brown on the way to Urr kirk?” Rose described the witch’s unexpected appearance. “Jamie was furious. Sent the woman back into the woods whence she came.” She shifted in her seat, wishing the dull ache in her back might cease. “I wonder how she knew we’d be on that road at that hour?”

“Many in the parish were aware of our father’s wedding plans,” Leana reminded her. “I imagine Lillias bided there all morning, certain you would come riding by.”

“You should have heard the daft comment she made.” Rose laughed, remembering. “She told Jamie that I was not the only woman he knew with a child in her womb.”

Leana’s eyes widened. “Lillias said that?” She wet her lips—even Rose could see how parched they were—and reached for her fan. Unfurling it with a graceful flick of her wrist, Leana batted it round her neck, though it did not keep her face from coloring further. “There are several women in our parish carrying bairns through the hot summer.”

Rose had noticed them too. “Elizabeth Pickens of Drumburn, for one. And Jenny Briggs at Hillhead.”

Leana’s fan fluttered to a stop. “I can think of one other.” She leaned forward and grasped Rose’s hand, a plaintive expression on her face. “Can you, dear sister?”

“Nae, I … cannot.” Confused, Rose slipped her hand free. “Whatever is the matter? You do not seem at all yourself.”

“I am … ah, more than myself.” Leana slowly closed her fan.

Rose shrugged, her attention drawn to a vase of fragrant roses displayed on the small table beside them. The pink petals stood out against the fine-toothed green leaves, and the yellow stamens were brighter still. “What do you call this one?” She drew the flowers closer to inhale their sweet scent, pricking her finger in the process.

“The Apothecary’s Rose. Grown by the French since the Middle Ages. A tincture made from the petals is good for digestion, and an infusion cures a sore throat.” Leana pressed one of the petals against Rose’s damask sleeve. “ ’Tis the very color of your gown.”

Rose recalled the witch’s strange comment. “Lillias Brown said if a rose from your garden bled, it would be the color of my dress.”

“But roses do not bleed.”

“This Rose does.” She held out her fingertip. Stark against her pale skin bloomed a dark red dot of blood. “Now you know why I never cared for my namesake flower.” She touched her finger to her tongue. “I adore the blossoms but loathe the thorns.”

“With a rose,” Leana murmured, “one must accept both beauty and pain.”

Their eyes met. “Are you speaking of your flowers … or of me?”

“Rose, I …” Leana looked away, fingering the silky petals. “I am sorry to have spoken so …”

“Honestly?” Rose stilled her hand. “Leana, I have caused you pain more times than either of us could tally.”

“Not … on purpose.”

“Nae. There were times I hurt you quite … deliberately.”

Leana looked up, clearly touched by her confession. “If you did so, ’twas only because
you
were in pain. I ne’er doubted your love for me, Rose. Just as I pray you will not doubt mine when I … share my news.”

News?
A sense of foreboding swept over her, cooling her skin. Was Leana ill? Was she leaving Auchengray? Rose forced herself to ask, “What news, dear sister?”

“I am … carrying Jamie’s child.”

“His …
child
?” Rose blinked in confusion. “ ’Tis not possible.”

Tears spilled from Leana’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Rose. So very sorry.”

Rose tried to breathe, but could not. Tried to reason, but her thoughts were too scattered.
Jamie. Leana.
It was happening all over again. “But … but
I
am the one Jamie loves.”

“You are right, lass.” Leana drew her chair closer. “He
does
love you. Very much.”

Rose was no longer listening, her attention riveted on Leana’s waist. “It cannot be true.” But it
was
true. Plainly so. “It cannot … be … Jamie’s …”

“It can only be Jamie’s,” Leana said gently. “But do not think ill of your husband. The child was conceived in late February, a full month before your wedding.”

February.
Disoriented, Rose tried in vain to count the months. “Wh-when … when …”

“Early December, long after you are happily settled at Glentrool.”

Glentrool.
Aye, Jamie would be there with her. Not here with Leana. Unless … unless he…

“You never need to see the child.” Leana knelt beside her chair, spreading her skirts across the wooden floor. “I will raise Jamie’s son or daughter here at Auchengray.”

Rose stared at her hands, struggling to make sense of it all. Leana was meant to be a mother. Would it be so terrible for her to have this little one to care for after they were gone? Oh, but Jamie … He would not walk away so easily. From his child. From the woman he once loved.

“Will I …” Her throat ached. “Will I ne’er have Jamie … to myself?”

“You do have him, Rose.” Leana bent forward to brush back a stray wisp of her hair. “He is your husband.”

Rose looked into her sister’s face and saw the truth.
She loves him still.
“Why?” Her voice was faint, each word pinched with pain. “Why did you … wait so long … to tell me?”

“I meant to confess it the moment I returned. When I discovered that you were … well, I could not ruin your joy.”

“But you
have
ruined it.” Rose turned away, ashamed of herself. “You’ve ruined everything. Just like before.”

“Please, Rose.” Leana’s warm hands clasped her cool ones. “Things are different this time.”

“Are they?” She swiveled back toward her sister. Wanting to wound her, wanting to forgive her, weary of the battle. “Last summer I loved Jamie, and Jamie loved me. Yet you were the one carrying his bairn.” Rose sniffed, in desperate need of a handkerchief. “ ’Tis just the same this summer.”

“Not quite. He is your husband now, not mine. And you, too, bear his seed.” Her eyes shone with sincerity. “Jamie loves you dearly, Rose. He told me so the day I arrived. You have nothing to fear.”

Rose slipped her hands free, then fumbled for the handkerchief tucked inside her sleeve. “I have much to fear, for now I must tell Jamie this … this
news
of yours.”

Leana drew back. “Dearie, I …”

A light tapping sounded at the door. “Ladies?” Jamie’s voice, muffled by the wood. “Neda has informed me our supper is ready. Will you join me at table?”

Leana was on her feet in an instant. “Jamie, wait.” She touched Rose’s shoulder, then hurried across the room to open the door to him. “Please come in. ’Twould be best if we spoke here first.”

Rose looked up in time to see him enter, still dressed in his riding
habit, a wary look on his face. She rose rather unsteadily and turned toward her husband, relieved to have him standing there, strong and capable. Jamie would know what to say, what to do, to banish her fears.

When she reached toward him, he strode across the room and clasped her hands in his. She managed a weak smile. “I must look a fright.”

“Not at all.” The warmth of his kiss comforted her. “Though I am sorry this … situation has brought you to tears.”

Rose gaped at him. “Then you …” The words turned to dust in her mouth. “How … long?”

“I’ve known for more than a week.” His voice was tender, apologetic. “Leana and I first spoke of it this afternoon, but I’d already learned the truth simply by—”

“By looking at her,” Rose finished for him. Her sister was clearly many months along. How had she missed anything so obvious? Rose turned, meeting both their gazes. “What else have I not been told? Are there more secrets between you?”

“Nae!” They responded in unison, looking not at each other but at her.

Jamie tightened his grip on her hands. “ ’Tis no secret that I love you, Rose. And that I would never hurt you.” He glanced at her sister for only a moment. “Nor would I harm anyone dear to you. I have promised to support Leana’s child as my legitimate offspring with my name and with sufficient silver. ’Tis only proper.”

His name. His silver.

But not his heart. That was hers alone.

If Leana were here and the child as well … If she had Jamie to herself at Glentrool…

“Aye,” Rose agreed at last. No man worth having would do any less. “I will not see my sister forsaken nor her child begging for bread.”

With a soft cry, Leana pressed a handkerchief to her nose, fresh tears filling her eyes. “Bless you, dearie.”

Jamie smiled down at her. “My charitable wife.”

Embarrassed, Rose brushed off their praise. What other choice did she have, when she loved her sister? Jamie had not been unfaithful to her. That was all that mattered. “Tell me who else knows.”

Rose was not surprised to learn that Neda and Eliza had jaloused the truth. Reverend Gordon’s visit, however, took her aback. “He came here? This morning?”

Leana briefly explained about Reverend Scott’s letter. “And Father knows, though he promised to say nothing until Lammas.”

“Lachlan McBride keep a secret?” A sense of uneasiness crawled up Rose’s spine. “Only if it will benefit him. Who knows what Father has planned?”

“He returns in a sennight.” Jamie aimed them toward the door and supper. “Until then, I am making plans of my own.”

T
he lambs are mine.” Jamie said it aloud in a threatening tone, rehearsing for the moment when Lachlan McBride marched through the front door of Auchengray with his bride.

From the heath-covered summit of Auchengray Hill Jamie could watch for the couple’s approach and have time to reach the mains before their carriage did. He had no intention of changing into more gentlemanly attire. Better to greet them dressed in soiled work clothes, a reminder of his endless labors on Lachlan’s behalf.

One of his spotted lambs toddled up to him, bleating for attention. Jamie crouched down, examining the hooves for stray stones and the fleece for ticks. He would dip the lambs in a watery mixture of tobacco and soap on Saturday next before they left for Glentrool, and again when they arrived, to keep from infecting his father’s flocks.

Jamie gripped the wool beneath his fingers.
If Father will have me. If I am still welcome.
Two years past his father had sent him on his way with a blessing, even after learning he’d been deceived. And his mother’s letter in May had made it clear they were expected. Then why had Alec McKie not written back?

Yestreen at supper, Rose had raised the question that troubled Jamie by the hour. “If you do not hear from your father or brother, will we still leave?”

He’d assured her that, letters in hand or not, they would leave Auchengray on Sunday the first. The Almighty alone knew what reception might await them, yet he could not tolerate living beneath Lachlan’s roof a moment longer.

Jamie released the lamb, then stood, checking the road again. Dry as the weather had been all week, the carriage horses would kick up a great cloud of dust in their wake. While scanning the steading below, he spied Duncan emerging from the byre. The brim of his plaid bonnet lifted toward the hills, then he waved at Jamie and started in his direction.

Duncan climbed the hill with the ease of a goat and arrived by Jamie’s side moments later, not in the least winded. Shading his eyes, he cast his gaze across the pastures and fields. “Ye’re keepin’ watch for the McBrides? Due at noon, Neda says.” When Jamie grunted in acknowledgment, Duncan turned to peer at him. “I’ve given this sad business atween ye and yer uncle a guid deal o’ thocht, Jamie. Mind what ye say tae the man. And remember wha owns the lambs.”

“I own them.”

“Nae, ye do not. Nor does Lachlan McBride.” Duncan swept his arm in a broad arc. “For ilka beast o’ the forest is God’s, and the cattle upon a thousand hills. They’re not yer lambs. They belong tae God.”

“Did he not place them under my care?” Jamie protested. “Without a shepherd, lambs are as good as lost.”

“And ye need a Shepherd tae leuk after ye as weel, Jamie. Ye’d best seek his counsel afore ye face yer uncle.” Duncan studied him, a look of fatherly concern on his face. “ ’Twill not do tae claim yer lambs and lose yer blissin.”

“I thought the lambs were my blessing.”

“Ye’ve been given mair than that.” Duncan rubbed a hand across his chin. “Bairns are also a blissin. Ye’ve three o’ those that’ll bear yer name. And the Buik says a prudent wife is a blissin.”

Jamie snorted. “Rose McKie is many things, but
prudent
is not one of them.”

Duncan only smiled. “The Almighty’s favor is a meikle blissin.” He clamped down on Jamie’s shoulder, emphasizing his words with a firm squeeze. “He has his hand on ye, nae mistake. I kenned it from the first. Yer uncle’s
ill-deedie
ways willna go unpunished.” Duncan released his grip. “The candle o’ the wickit shall be put oot. But not by ye, Jamie. Wait on the Lord, and keep his way.”