Whence Came a Prince (37 page)

“There, you see.” Lachlan clapped his hands together, abruptly drawing the meeting to a close. “Your cousin has released you, Nephew. Glentrool awaits.” He gestured toward the door. “You will leave Auchengray, empty-handed of course. No lambs. No silver. But you will have my daughter Rose. Most men would consider that a sufficient reward for their labors.”

“I am
not
a reward!” Rose stamped her foot when she said it. Not like a spoiled child demanding her own way; rather, like an angry woman who refused to be discounted. “And my sister will not be driven from her own home.”

Lachlan turned his back on them, shuffling the papers on his desk. “That will be Jamie’s decision.”

Leana would not allow such a burden to fall on Jamie’s shoulders, however broad they might be. “Let us away, Rose.” She slipped her hands from Jamie’s fervent grasp and took her sister’s arm. “Your husband may prefer to finish this discussion without us.”

“ ’Tis finished. For now.” Jamie strode past the sisters and yanked open the door, then held it for them as they exited, his gaze fixed on Lachlan. “As to the dubious choices offered me, I refuse to honor either one.”

“Honor was never your forte, James.”

“Nor yours.” The sharp bang of the door was fitting punctuation.

Up and down the back corridor, servants scurried like mice seeking their nest holes. The threesome stood for a moment, as if regaining their balance. Despite the tension, Rose managed a weak smile. “Secret matters seldom remain so at Auchengray.”

Jamie guided them toward the front door, a hand on each of their elbows. “The orchard should afford us more privacy. We’ve much to discuss.”

Averting her gaze from the too-bright sky above, Leana hurried to
keep up with Jamie as they made their way toward the orchards east of the house. The trio found a secluded spot in which to stand among the fruit-laden apple trees, though Leana feared her legs might not hold her. Her father’s words prodded at her, bruised her.
Condemn her to the life of an outcast.

“Can he mean what he says?” Rose twisted the ribbon dangling from her gown round her fingers, her back propped against a tree that would drop russet apples come October. “Whatever are we to do?”

Dappled light fell across Jamie’s muslin work shirt and traced his furrowed brow. “Your father must have had this … this
choice
in mind for some time, Leana. When did he learn you were with child?”

“A month ago. I was returning an almanac to his bookshelf when he found me. When he … saw me.” She still tasted the fear he’d stirred inside her that gray Monday.
Take off your apron. Turn toward the hearth.

Rose shuddered. “I can only imagine how he treated you. Och, what a hatesome man!”

Jamie picked one of the unripe apples from the branches bending near his shoulder, then absently rolled the small hard fruit back and forth between his palms. “No doubt he was seeking some excuse to break his promise to me and reclaim my lambs. Our child provided that.”

When her shoulders slumped, he was quick to console her. “This bairn is a blessing from God, no matter how your father might twist things.”

Leana sensed the child moving inside her, as though vying to be included. “Aye, little one.” She touched the tender spot where she’d felt an elbow or foot jab her. “You are the one we’re discussing.”

Jamie’s gaze followed her hand, then lifted to her face, his features softening. “What names do you favor?” When she told him, his smile was genuine. “Well done, lass. We’ve not had a David born to the McKies in many a generation. Nor any lass named Davina.”

Leana dared not confess the truth:
Davina
always came to mind when she prayed for their child, not
David.
Would Jamie welcome a daughter? And be a good father to her, even from a distance?

“Well, if it’s a wee lass, she’ll have a much better father than ours,”
Rose said, as if reading her thoughts. “For now, what’s to be done about Lachlan McBride?”

Jamie’s mood darkened. “Curse him. And quit Auchengray for good.”

“But what of Leana?” Rose clasped her hand in support. “We cannot leave her.”

“Please, you
must
go.” Leana hid her sorrow, even as she hastened to affirm his decision. “Your life together will be ruined if you remain. I will … leave as well.”

Jamie looked surprised. “And go where?”

Flustered, she offered the first place that came to mind. “To Aunt Meg’s. To Burnside Cottage. ’Twill take three days on foot, but the weather is fine and the summer days are long …” Her voice faded at the sight of her sister’s gaping mouth.

“
On foot
? Leana, you must be daft! You are halfgone, and yet you’d consider walking two dozen miles?”

“Perhaps it is a bit far,” Leana murmured, feeling foolish. But if the McKies departed for Glentrool, the doors to Auchengray would close behind her as well.

“Father’s money box is positively bulging with coins,” Rose fumed, her color high. “Can he not spare a
bittie
for you? Enough to see you safely transported to Twyneholm or settled in a cottage of your own?”

Jamie threw down the green apple. “He can, and he will.” He started to say more, but the faint ringing of a handbell announced the dinner hour. “Och! I’ve no appetite whatsoever. Nor any desire to sit at that wretched man’s table.”

Leana reminded him this was Morna’s first meal at Auchengray. “Hungry or not, we should be present for her sake.”

“How can you be so generous?” Jamie grumbled, though she heard the resignation in his voice. Even on the most desperate of days, manners had their place. He offered Rose his arm, though his gaze remained locked with hers. “Your father will not have the final word on this, Leana. Rest assured, I shall see to your needs.”

She bowed her head, if only to hide her relief. “I know you will, Jamie.”

Moments later they emerged from the sweet-scented orchard into the fullness of the sun, bound for a meal none of them wished to eat. Morna seemed grateful for their company at table. How much did the older woman know of the conversation in the spence? Lachlan behaved as if they’d never spoken, tucking away food like a man who’d not eaten for a week.

Jamie did not say a word through the entire meal, yet no one looking at him could miss the message his countenance conveyed. Anger. Impatience. And resolve. While Lachlan ate, Jamie planned. Leana could tell by the angle of his chin and the crease in his brow. A light came into his eyes when he thought of something new; then he’d shift his posture, as if testing the weight of his idea. Whatever Jamie had in mind, she did not envy Lachlan McBride. Nor did she pity him.

After the plates were lifted, her father ended the meal with a lengthy prayer, asking for the Almighty’s blessing on his marriage. When Lachlan finished, Jamie bolted from the table, Rose close on his heels. Leana retreated to the second floor. Holding Ian in her arms was the only remedy for her sorrow.

She found the lad crawling about the nursery, exploring each surface with fingers and mouth while Eliza kept a watchful eye on him. “Have you had your bath and your
noony
?” Leana knew the answer; Eliza’s apron was covered with wet spots and remnants of Ian’s midday meal. “Well then, sweet boy, come play with Mother.”

Leana held Ian tight against her bodice, fighting a fresh spate of tears. Where could she possibly live? And with her child, come December? Not at Auchengray. Lachlan had already made that clear.
Neither bed nor board.
Yet Jamie had made a promise as well.
I shall see to your needs.
Of the two men in her life, she trusted the father of her children far more than her own father.

“Let us away to the garden, Ian.” She dried her cheeks, determined to be cheerful for Ian’s sake. “We’ve carrots and radishes to harvest. Wait ’til you see how colorful they are.” Ian gave a happy cry as she bounced him in her arms. When Leana reached the foot of the stair, she found Morna waiting for her, one foot on the bottom step.

The older woman offered a tentative smile. “Will you mind if I … have a look at your room?”

“Not at all.” Leana nodded politely, then hastened past, hiding her dismay behind her son’s dark head. Already changes were afoot. She went out by way of the kitchen, lifting her broad-brimmed garden hat from its hook near the door.

“Let me tie that round yer chin, mem,” Annabel offered, drying her hands on her apron. “Itherwise, yer lad will pu’ yer bonnet off yer head and toss it tae the
grunties
for dinner.”

Touched by her thoughtfulness, Leana obliged her, lifting her chin. “We’ll not go near the steading,” she assured the freckled lass, “just in case Ian sees any hungry pigs. Do follow me out with a basket. We’ve gardening to do, don’t we, Ian?” Annabel helped the two of them settle beside the carrot patch, then hurried back to her chores.

Leana paused, breathing in the earthy scents of foliage and soil, feeling the sun warm the straw crown of her bonnet. On a day filled with heartache, her garden was a balm to her soul. “Now, lad. Can you sit still while I wrestle these vegetables out of the soil?”

It seemed he could not. Ian took off crawling across the garden, squashing feathery carrot tops beneath his pudgy knees. Leana stood, then lifted him from the ground before he stuffed a fistful of dirt in his mouth. “Our gardening days are behind us, I fear.” She brushed off his hands, then headed for the cool shade of the yew. When he was older, he could be taught to pull out carrots. But for now Ian wanted only to play. The harvest would have to wait.

Beneath the yew Ian found much to interest him—twigs and leaves and dried berries—all of which she had to rescue before he put them into his mouth. “Not to taste, just to touch,” she said over and over, following him round the tree trunk. She taught him the names of things, knowing full well he could neither understand nor repeat the words. “Someday you will,” she told him, “when you’re older. When you live at Glentrool.”
When I am not there to teach you.

She pressed a palm to her rounded waist, a tangible comfort. The babe inside her indeed offered tender solace and hope for the days
ahead. She would welcome another little one’s arrival with utter joy. Yet the child at her feet was just as dear to her. How could she live with one and not the other?

Leana dropped to her knees beside Ian, drawing him to her, holding him close even as he wriggled to be free. “My sweet son, I’ll not let you go. Not until I must.” Even then she would not truly let go. He would take her heart with her, clutched in his small hands. “Please, Ian …” She moaned the words. “Stay with me.”

But he could not stay. Not unless his father did.

Her arms tightened round her son, who’d ceased fighting her and nestled into her embrace. “My precious boy.” She buried a kiss in Ian’s dark hair and closed her eyes against the sad fact: The McKies would be gone by Lammas.

Please, Jamie. Take me with you.

Shame heated her cheeks. Jamie could do no such thing, of course. It would be improper—scandalous, in fact—and utterly unfair to Rose. Her sister had endured enough. One did not travel across the countryside with an old wife and a new one, let alone set up housekeeping with both women.

A selfish notion, nothing more. “Forgive me, Jamie.”

“Forgive you for what, lass?”

Leana looked up, shocked to find him standing beneath the yew’s branches, as if beckoned by her thoughts. “Jamie, I …”

“Confess your sin, Leana.” He drew closer. “So I ken what it is I’m forgiving.”

J
amie watched Leana’s pale cheek turn as pink as the blooms in her rose beds.

He should not have startled her. Nor should he have eavesdropped. But when he happened by the yew tree en route to the steading and heard Leana speak his name and saw her arms wrapped round their son … truly, how could he not pause, knowing he might never behold such a tender scene again?

Crouching beside her, he offered his handkerchief, wishing it were not so damp. “Rose has been crying the last hour as well.” As she dabbed at her nose, he gently asked, “Leana, will you not tell me what you’ve done that requires my forgiveness?”

She practically hid behind his handkerchief. “I had a … shameful thought.”

“Oh, Leana. If I were forced to confess all my improper thoughts, the Lord would quickly tire of hearing my voice.” He said it gently, hoping to ease her embarrassment. “I have a confession as well: I fear I can never please both the McBride sisters. Rose insists we remain at Auchengray for your sake. And you insist Rose and I leave for her sake.”

“Poor Jamie, having to wrestle with such decisions.” She returned his handkerchief, damper than before. “I pray you’ll do what is best for my sister and quit this unholy place.”

In the silence, a wren began to sing, filling the air with its musical trill. When Leana kissed Ian’s forehead, Jamie imagined the warmth of her lips on his own brow. Disconcerted, he sat on the ground, putting some distance between them.

“What will you do?” she asked him after a bit, her gaze still trained on their son, whose sleepy eyes were at half-mast.

“I am only certain of what I will
not
do, and that is bow to your father’s demands.” Saying the words aloud, Jamie’s strength returned. “Nor will his greed determine the course of my life any longer. ’Tis the will of the Almighty I seek.”

Leana’s smile lit her countenance. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear you say so.”

“I’m … glad.” When he’d confessed to Rose his dependence on God, she had merely nodded in agreement. Leana’s encouragement ran deeper, like ground water nourishing a well. “Duncan has advised me to wait for the Lord’s clear direction.”

“ ’Tis best to wait.” Leana rested her cheek on Ian’s head. “Too many lives depend upon you.”

“Three young lives in particular.”

He leaned forward and gently laid his hand across their son’s back as the child drifted off to sleep in the afternoon heat, his head against his mother’s breast, his legs splayed across the brother or sister not yet born.
David. Davina.
Their bairn would arrive in early December. If only he might be there. To see his son at the hour of his birth. To hear his daughter’s first cry. But he could not leave Rose’s side to attend to her sister. Much as he might wish to do so, it would not be fitting.