Highland Soldiers: The Betrayal (2 page)

*

The next morning, the families and friends saw their men off. Duncan stole a glance back at Jenny, who forced a brave smile as she touched the chain round her neck that held the broken coin hiding under her shift. His last expression bore through her from a face kept void of emotion, lest anyone suspect him of stealing a glimpse of his lover. But those dark eyes sent a rush of heat to her heart. Jenny feared it would burst. Duncan’s gaze drifted downward, as if he might change his mind about leaving. Abruptly, he turned and rode off with the others. When he was gone, Jenny slipped away and followed the footpath into the woods, where she found the old yew tree and sat underneath it. She touched the crushed leaves strewn over the ground. She could still feel his skin against hers.

Jenny awoke with a start. She had cried herself to sleep in the woods on the bed of leaves she had shared with Duncan. The night before, she had been too full of thoughts of her future with Duncan to sleep. It was not until morning, when the men were all gone and emotions were spent, that fatigue caught up with her. She had slept here through the afternoon, and now dusk was settling. Her parents would wonder about her.

She walked home past the strips of land that her father, as tacksman, rented to farmers. Duncan’s parents farmed one of these tacks, which put them beneath Jenny’s station–as she had often been reminded.

Jenny stopped as her father walked out of the cottage where Duncan lived with his parents. Brodie MacDonell followed, looking unkempt and servile. He paused and put his hands on the doorframe to steady himself before following Andrew MacRuer down the footpath through the garden. Barely pausing, Brodie pleaded. Jenny did not need to hear what he said to know what it was about. In recent years, drinking had gotten the better of Brodie. Duncan kept the farm going despite his father’s frequent absences. He disappeared for hours–sometimes days–only to return drunk and unfit for farm chores. They were often behind in their rent, a fact which Jenny’s father never failed to point out.

“Jenny!” Her father turned back to give a gruff nod to Brodie, and turned and smiled at his daughter. Extending his arm, he said, “Come, we can walk home together.”

They walked in silence until Jenny asked, “Father, is something amiss?”

With a backward glance, her father said, “They’re nearly a year overdue with the rent.”

Jenny hid her alarm. She wondered if Duncan knew how bad things were. “But surely Duncan will save money for rent while he’s gone.”

“Not enough for what they owe,” said her father.

Jenny softly asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I rent the tack to make money. If they won’t pay, someone else will.”

“But, Father, you wouldnae put them out.”

He smiled at her warmly. “Not if they pay their rent, lass. Now let’s talk of pleasanter things.”

Jenny opened her mouth to continue, but her father interrupted. “We’re to have a visit from the MacLeans this evening.”

Jenny knew who they were, and had little interest in knowing more. Mr. MacLean was a laird from a half-day’s ride away. Her father looked up to the man. He had married above his own station, and was now a prosperous laird, as a result.

Jenny’s father went on about Tavish, the son, but Jenny barely listened. She had always been courteous to Tavish, for it was expected. However, his growing interest in her was unsettling, so much so that she sought ways to avoid him. In the presence of wealth and power, this was easily done. Tavish valued social stature more highly than Jenny. He imposed his presence upon others, never fearing that it might be unwanted. This presumption applied doubly toward Jenny. Just last night, he had nearly dragged her away from the sword dance, never asking whether she wanted to go with him. All she had wanted was to watch Duncan and to memorize each feature, each step, and each gesture. With one last night together, no one else had mattered. It was only good fortune that had brought someone to turn Tavish’s head long enough for Jenny to disappear into the crowd.

*

“Jenny, where have you been?” Rowena MacRuer looked up from the menu she was discussing with the cook. With a nod, she handed the menu back to the cook and turned to her daughter. “Och, look at you! Go and fix yourself up.”

Jenny lowered her chin, hiding her frown as she answered her mother. “Aye, Mum.” Sometimes she wished she were not such a dutiful daughter.

Rowena gave her husband a quick peck on the cheek and slipped her arm into his as they left the kitchen.

“Mrs. MacRuer?” A maid walked down the hallway to them.

Rowena heaved a sigh. “What is it?”

“Mrs. MacDonell is here to see you.”

“To see me?”

The maid hastened to add, “Not the Lady MacDonell, but the one from the farm down the road.”

Jenny was halfway to the door with a welcoming smile. She had known Duncan’s mother since she and Duncan had played together as children. She was almost a second mother. After she and Duncan were married, she would be. Jenny gave Elspeth a hug, and drew back to find a face drawn with worry. Jenny’s smile faded. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she could guess what it was. Instead, she invited her into the sitting room.

“You’ve got things to do, Jenny,” said her mother as she joined them. Jenny nodded and excused herself while her mother took over. Jenny guessed it had something to do with the rent.

Upstairs, Jenny pulled off her arisaid and leaned against the closed door. The faint scent of Duncan, fresh air and pine wafted from it. He had wrapped it around them when the night air had grown chill. Now she held it to her face and breathed in.

*

“Jenny!” her mother called up to her from the stairs.

The guests had arrived, and now Jenny would have to act as though she were not heartsick from missing the man she had given herself to. With a sigh, she went down the stairs to face a long evening. Her mother whispered, “They’re in the sitting room. Go and make conversation.” When Jenny hesitated, her mother nudged her on. A pleading stare got her nowhere, so Jenny took a fortifying breath and went in to join her father and his guests.

As she stepped into the doorway, the conversation halted. Tavish MacLean stood first, followed by his father and hers.

“Good evening,” she said, looking at the three MacLeans. She looked from one to the other. “Father.” She nodded and started to sit, but her mother arrived and, with a flurry of movement, ushered Jenny to Tavish’s side. Jenny gave her mother a discreet, panicky glance, before turning to Tavish. “I thought you would have gone away with the others this morning.”

A pointed look from her father let her know that he disapproved of her question. It was not her place to pry into decisions Tavish had made. Her job was to make him feel welcome and at ease. Jenny held her tongue, but she thought of Tavish’s actions the evening before. He had not been such a gentleman when he had grabbed her and tried to force her away from the sword dance. She still felt his grip on her wrist, and resented him for it.

Tavish seemed immune to her dislike for him, as the conversation drifted along. It did so without Jenny, until she felt her mother’s sharp gaze. Jenny tilted her chin up and feigned interest. As she did, her thoughts wandered once more. How had her father managed to entice the MacLeans to accept his invitation for dinner? Andrew MacRuer had long sought to renew the old friendship as a means with which he might elevate his own social standing, but his efforts had always been politely overlooked. Malcolm had been a childhood friend. When he married above his circumstances, he deliberately distanced himself from his past. However, as so many had gathered to see their men off, it made sense that they might renew their old acquaintance on this one occasion. Yet, if they had come to see Tavish off with the others, then why was he still here? As she observed him, Jenny decided she did not care enough to waste further thought on why Tavish was here. Instead, her thoughts would be better spent wishing him gone.

Tavish did know how to smile. He had all the right features to render him handsome. Unscathed by doubt or tender emotion, his face was composed of clean planes and confidence, which most women found quite appealing. Jenny was an exception, which seemed lately to draw him more fervently to her.

He turned his smile toward her. “I’ve delayed my departure by a day. I’ll leave tomorrow to join the others.”

“Oh?” Jenny nodded, eyebrows raised to approximate interest. She inadvertently met his mother’s eyes, which darted along with her grin to Jenny’s mother. Then the fathers joined in, glancing at each other as if they all shared an unspoken secret.

*

After supper, Jenny stood in the hallway with her parents. Her mother hissed, “Talk to her, Andrew. I cannae leave our guests all alone.” With a swish of silk, she was gone.

“Father, no,” Jenny whispered.

His stern face forbade opposition. “In a few minutes, Tavish MacLean is going to offer to escort you outside for a walk.”

Jenny began to protest.

“Once outside, he will ask you to marry him.”

“But I cannae–”

“And you will say yes.” Andrew would not be moved.

“Please dinnae ask this of me,” she begged quietly.

Ignoring her, he went on. “He fancies you, Jenny. You’re a lucky girl.”

“I am quite certain I am not the first girl he has fancied, nor will I be the last.”

“But he is marrying you.” Andrew smiled as he lifted her chin. “And there is no one as lovely as my wee Jenny.”

She smiled but not without effort.

Andrew said, “He looked for you last night to ask you then, but he could not find you. Where were you?”

Jenny thought of just where she had been, in Duncan’s arms, giving herself to the man that she loved. “I cannae marry Tavish.”

“He delayed his departure because of you, Jenny. He was going to ask you last night.”

“Last night? Did you know about this then?” Jenny had, of course, heard of such arranged marriages, but she had never thought that her own parents would arrange a marriage without her ever suspecting it.

“Of course I knew. Now stop all this nonsense. It’s all been arranged, and he’s waiting for you in the sitting room.”

“I cannae marry him,” she said meekly.

“Oh, but you can, and you will.”

“No.” Jenny felt physically ill. She had never been able stand up to her father. What he saw as respect was, in truth, simple fear. It was easier to obey than to lose his approval. But now she had to risk it. What choice was there?

She had wanted to sound firm, but her words came out breathless and hushed. “I am promised to someone, to Duncan. We are handfasted.”

Andrew’s face grew red as he spoke with quiet restraint. “You promised yourself? To him?”

“I did.” Jenny felt the same fear she used to feel as a child, when she had done something wrong.

He stared at her. “Duncan? That drunkard’s son?”

“Father, please don’t be cruel.”

“Pardon me. Farmer. One who is too busy tipping the bottle to farm his land so he can pay his rent. Is that the life you want?”

“Duncan is not like that.”

“He sent his wife over to beg your mother for more time to pay rent.”

“His father did that, not Duncan.”

Andrew shook his head. “I’ll not have that for my wee Jenny.”

“I’m not your wee Jenny anymore.” She spoke too quickly, and revealed too much. Too late, she reined in her emotions.

Jenny’s mother slipped back through the sitting room door as Andrew said, “When was this handfast?”

“Last night.”

Andrew drew close and gripped her jaw. After a long silence, he forced her chin up. With dread, Jenny lifted her eyes.

“Did he bed you?”

“Andrew!” said her mother, signaling for him to hush.

“Look at me and tell me the truth.”

In her father’s eyes, she saw not only anger but fear mixed with disgust, which grew stronger with each moment she failed to answer him.

“No,” Jenny lied.

The deep sigh of relief that came from him nearly frightened her more than his anger. He let go of her chin.

“And who witnessed this handfasting?”

“No one. But it’s still just as true.”

Andrew leveled a gaze of cold steel. “If no one saw it, it cannot be proven.”

“No one needs to prove it! He knows, and I know. Nothing will change that!”

Andrew’s quiet words belied his seething anger. “He’ll most likely be gone for more than a year and a day, so your handfast means nothing.”

“It means everything to me.”

Andrew went on as though he had not heard her. “Right now, you are going to walk into that room and smile sweetly. And when he invites you for a walk, you will smile again and go with him. And when he asks you to marry him, you’ll say yes. For if you do not, I will throw Duncan’s parents out of their miserable hovel.”

“Father, you cannot!”

“How do you think they will manage? I’ll tell you. They won’t.”

Jenny asked, “How could you do such a thing?”

“I will do anything to protect my daughter.”

“I dinnae want protecting from Duncan. I love him.”

“Then think, Jenny, for you will bear the weight of the consequences.”

“You ask too much of me.”

“I ask you to do what is best.”

Andrew was calm. He had won.

Jenny knew he would do it, and she knew it would kill Duncan’s mother to lose her home. The poor woman had suffered for years with a husband who did little to keep the farm going. Now, with Duncan away, her life would be even harder. The land would be hers to farm nearly alone.

“Duncan will not stand for this,” Jenny protested.

“Duncan will not know.”

“Och, do you not think I’ll tell him the moment he’s back?”

“Yes, I do.” Andrew paused, a smug smile forming. “But, you see, I am letting them stay there. It’s a generous offer, one which I will withdraw if Duncan ever finds out what I’ve told you. So, my dear one, you are free to tell him, just as I am free to throw the whole lot of them out of their home.”