The Pursuit (26 page)

I
T
could be a serious inconvenience to be an only child. In Melissa’s case her slightest little ills got exaggerated all out of proportion by her parents, who had no other children to coddle and worry over. It wasn’t the first time in her life that she’d been made to convalesce much longer than necessary. She hoped it would be the last, hoped that Lincoln hadn’t been taking notes on how to care for her from her parents.

She’d been told, more than once, that she simply made a very disagreeable patient. That probably was all it was, her high annoyance over such coddling. There was certainly nothing else in her life now for her to be annoyed about, when everything that had been wrong had just corrected itself—or would be corrected, as soon as her wedding took place.

She could begrudge the fact that she’d nearly had to die for her father to “see the light,” as it
were. She didn’t, though. She was too thrilled to have her family accept Lincoln to nitpick over why they did. She just wished their minds could have been put at ease completely.

They’d given in instead, gracefully but reluctantly. Yet she had a feeling they’d always be watching Lincoln more closely than was necessary. And eventually he’d probably notice and come to resent it.

Her grouchiness, which she blamed on being confined too long, was actually a combination of several things that she wasn’t quite experienced enough to realize. Her wedding date had been set for four weeks down the road, too long away when she wanted to be sharing Lincoln’s bed already. Each time she found Lincoln alone, she’d no sooner take a few steps toward him than someone else would show up. There were just too many people living at Kregora. Frustration at every turn.

And her father was still reaching for her brow every time he saw her. She was now swatting his hand away before he could, but that only caused him to send Kimberly to her to make sure her fever was still gone. And you simply didn’t swat away your mother’s concerned hand.

Melissa received the letter that morning. It gave her a legitimate excuse to seek Lincoln out. Not that she needed any excuses now. But they still weren’t allowed any real privacy together. She didn’t have an official chaperon, but if they weren’t always in sight of someone, her father
would be wanting to know why. They could talk privately though, just as long as they didn’t try to go off alone to do it.

She located him in the stable. His stallion had been found and returned a few days ago, but was a bit unmanageable after running wild. The lads who worked in the stable were too hesitant to approach the horse when he was apparently snapping at anyone who got near, which left it to Lincoln to groom him until he settled down.

She stood there for a few minutes watching Lincoln before he noticed her. Ian Three was down at the end of the stable seeing to his own horse. He nodded at her when she entered but made no move to approach. He was going to ignore them—or seem to. At any rate, he was far enough away not to hear any conversation they had.

She still didn’t let Lincoln know she was there yet, was enjoying too much just watching him. He had his day coat removed, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sweat beaded on his brow, appeared on several spots of his white lawn shirt. He was due for getting his hair cut. It was beginning to curl about his shoulders.

He’d never seemed so…Scottish to her. Her father never hesitated to put his back into a task and get his hands dirty right alongside his clansmen. English lords just didn’t do such things.

“You’ve done this afore?” she finally remarked. “I’d think a lord o’ your consequence would leave such things tae grooms.”

His brown eyes lit up with pleasure on seeing her. His firm lips formed a supple smile as he straightened up from his task. He ran one bare forearm over his brow to clear the sweat. Without benefit of the cloth from his shirtsleeve, he merely smeared it.

“I favor stallions, have had this one for many years,” he told her. “He has several grooms at home accustomed to him and his occasional antics, but when they aren’t around, yes, the duty falls to me. And, no, I don’t mind. It’s rather relaxing, actually.”

She stepped up onto the lowest post of the stall he was working in, rested her elbows on the top post. “And why d’you favor stallions?”

He shrugged and continued brushing the animal. “I’m not exactly sure. Probably because I enjoy the test of wills and asserting who owns whom.”

“Is he sure who’s the owner?”

Lincoln grinned at her. “He likes to think he is. At times I’m sure he only tolerates me. Now, what brings you to the stable?”

“Och, I almost forgot. I’ve had a note from your Aunt Henriette, telling me that your mother has returned home tae the Highlands. I canna imagine why she would send it tae me rather than tae you.”

The change about him was immediate and overly obvious. The warm light went out of his eyes. His mouth became a hard slash, his expression stiff, closed off. And his tone, when he answered, was positively frigid.

“Possibly because she knows I could not care less,” he suggested.

Melissa choose to ignore the change in him—for the moment—and remarked casually, “Hmmm, well, I suppose she’s assuming we are as good as married already, and sae I would find the news o’ interest.”

“Why?”

“In case I want tae visit her.”

“You don’t.”

She put her hands on her hips in an annoyed manner, no easy task with her feet balanced on a post. “Dinna be telling me what m’wants are.”

He raised a brow. “Are we about to have our first married disagreement—prior to getting married?”

Instead of answering, she went straight for the heart of the matter. “Were you thinking this would ne’er come up, when she’s going tae be m’mother-in-law? You wanted tae put that old bitterness tae rest,” she reminded him. “Said that’s why you came back tae Scotland.”

“It didn’t work. Seeing her only made it worse. And it doesn’t matter now that I have you.”

“It matters tae me.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s going tae be a member o’ m’family,” she said, stating the obvious.

“In her case you can overlook that.”

“Overlook one o’ the grandmothers o’ m’bairns? I dinna think sae.”

He looked chagrined and intrigued at the same time. “You’re already planning on babies?”

“Certainly.”

“Er, how many did you have in mind?”

She laughed at him, guessing the train of his thoughts. “No’ sixteen, that’s for sure. Three or four will do nicely. And dinna be changing the subject. Your mother will be included in all our family gatherings. If I dinna invite her, m’own mother will. These are times o’ fun and laughter. Are they always tae be painful tae you, wi’ her included?”

His tone turned stiff again. “Obviously, some things can’t be helped. I’ll survive.”

“Did you e’er give her a chance tae say she’s sorry?” she asked.

“She had ample opportunity recently.”

“Did she? If you were as stiff and unbending as you are now, I dinna think so.”

He sighed. “What are you expecting me to do? Forgive her for abandoning me? She gave me away, Melissa. She literally gave me to her brother to raise.”

“Does she know how you feel about that?”

“She knows I despise her.”

“But that’s the problem, Linc. You dinna despise her a’tall. You love her as much as you e’er did. That’s why it hurts sae much. And that’s the pain that needs tae be put tae rest.”

M
ELISSA
wouldn’t let up badgering Lincoln until he agreed to go see his mother. It took several hours before he gave in. It also took her agreeing to go with him. That, however, required a chaperon.

Jamie volunteered to ride over with them. So did Neill, who was with him. They left right after lunch. But although Melissa was going along, she didn’t know what she could do to help. This thing was between mother and son. Yet there had to be a way to patch those old wounds of his.

Melissa wasn’t sure what she was hoping for. By all accounts Lincoln had good reason to be bitter. But a simple “I’m sorry,” could work wonders. That was assuming his mother
was
sorry, which was assuming a lot. If she wasn’t, then this trip to try to end their breach would accomplish nothing. But Eleanor Ross hadn’t seemed like an uncaring woman. The few occasions Melissa had
met her, she’d seemed quiet, unassuming—and carrying a lot of pain herself.

It was the first time Melissa was seeing the home where Lincoln was born. It was an ordinary house, if very large, and it spoke of wealth in its fine details. It had probably been a happy place at one time. And it was probably just her imagination that made it seem like a place in mourning now.

They drew up on a hill before the house to wait for Jamie, who was lagging behind. Neill was suddenly looking rather nervous as he stared at the house below them.

“Jamie and I dinna hae tae actually meet yer mother, do we, Linc?” he asked.

“No, you can wait outside if you like. I doubt we’ll be very long.”

Melissa wasn’t about to let that pass. “Why dinna you want tae meet her?”

“The last time I did, she was a raving mad-woman, screaming like a banshee. No offense, Linc, but those o’ us who saw her like that thought surely it mun run in the family, that she was as crazy as ye.”

Lincoln was staring at him now, incredulously. Melissa got angry that they were only hearing about this now, when they were almost there. “What the devil are you talking about? When was this?”

“Was after Linc got beat up the second time, I think. She pushed her way into our house, immediately started screaming at our da. He didna
know what tae make o’ her, didna know what had been going on wi’ Linc. But ye know how he is, slow tae react. And that he just sat there staring at her only made her wilder. She accused him o’ being the worst father under creation, that all he knew how tae raise was savages.”

Melissa’s eyes flew to Lincoln. But his expression had closed off. Nor was he going to question Neill about his revelation. But she recalled distinctly that one of his complaints had been that his mother had never done anything to stop what had been going on. Apparently, though, she’d tried, if ineffectively.

Her grandfather wouldn’t take well to being yelled at in his own house. He never took well to criticism about his own sons. She wondered why they’d never heard about this before now.

“What did Grandda do?”

“He did as she asked.”

“Really?”

“Aye, it was probably the tears,” Neill said. “She started crying afore she ran home. But he told us all tae stay away from Linc.”

“But you didna do that.”

“Meli, none o’ us e’er sought out Linc tae cause him harm. Every time it was him coming tae us. And after Da threatened tae break oot the strap, we took pains tae avoid him. Yet we’d already decided tae avoid him. His mother coming o’er changed nothing. What still happened after that was all o’ Linc’s doing. He just wouldna leave it alone.”

“Enough of this,” Lincoln said in a cold tone. “It’s been hashed and rehashed. Let’s get this over with.”

He rode down the hill without waiting for them to follow him. Melissa sighed, said to Neill and Jamie, who’d finally caught up, “Dinna mind him. All this time he thought that if his mother would just have confronted your da, the whole thing would have settled down. He didna know she tried tae do just that.”

“Faith, but she accomplished nothing in that trying,” Neill replied.

“Exactly.”

They followed Lincoln down to the house, Melissa feeling some distinct dread now. If Lincoln had been wrong about his mother’s efforts on his behalf, what else might he be wrong about? Had she forced him to come here to find out that all this time he’d been blaming the wrong person?

Lincoln was already waiting in the parlor. Neill stayed outside. Jamie escorted Melissa in and lingered in the hall but left as soon as Eleanor showed up.

Lincoln was pacing in front of the fireplace. Nervous? Or just impatient?

“It’s going tae be all right,” Melissa tried to reassure him, even though she didn’t believe that now.

He didn’t answer, and then Eleanor came into the room. Her expression was guarded, as if she already knew what they were there for.

Still, she offered a smile for Melissa’s benefit—if that slight twisting of her lips could be called a smile. “This is a pleasant surprise. Have you two set a date yet?”

“Aye,” Melissa replied. “Within the month. You’ll come, I hope?”

“Certainly—if Lincoln doesn’t mind.”

There it was, laid bare before them, the problem. Eleanor hadn’t meant to open that subject, though, and she paled a bit over her blunder. Lincoln was amazed himself that she’d done so. He simply stared at her.

Eleanor sat down. “That wasn’t what I meant to say.”

Lincoln wasn’t going to let it pass. “What then? If you can find the time? If you have nothing else to do, you might come? Or have you just not had enough time to think of an excuse to decline?”

“What are you accusing me of?”

“A lack of interest? After all, it’s only your son’s wedding—a son you lost interest in years ago.”

He turned away, didn’t see how stricken Eleanor was. But he was hurt as well, having barely got those words out. Melissa couldn’t bear it. She was afraid that this was going to end up much worse than it had already been, and it was her fault for bringing him here for this confrontation.

She was about to suggest they leave when Eleanor said in a soft, hurt voice, “I never stopped loving you, Lincoln. If you thought so, you were wrong.”

He swung back around and snarled, “What the hell else was I to think? You didn’t take me away, you
gave
me away! You cut me off from my home and you!”

“I had no choice.”

“You could have come with me.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“I—I can’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“It’s a promise I made.”

“Rubbish. Christ, I should have known I’d get no answers from you.”

He started for the door. Eleanor cried out, “Wait! Sit down. It’s time you heard all of this.”

He stopped. He didn’t sit down. He stood there in the doorway, filled with such rage and pain Eleanor had to look away from him to be able to continue.

“When the MacFearsons brought you home to me, beaten and senseless, and told me what had happened, they said that would be the end of it. I had no reason not to believe them. I sent for the doctor. You had broken bones, several bad cuts, too many bruises to count. Your left ear had taken such a hard blow you wouldn’t be hearing from it for a while.”

“You aren’t telling me anything I don’t know, other than that the MacFearsons brought me home after that first beating. I never knew how I got home.”

“You don’t remember that you wouldn’t listen
to me? I ordered you to stay away from the MacFearsons, but you kept sneaking out to find them again. Even locking you in your room didn’t work. You were beyond my control.”

“So because you couldn’t control me, you got rid of me?” he said.

“No! You were killing yourself. Each time you came home, you were hurt worse. And I couldn’t get it to end, on either side. I know now it was the fever that made you behave so strangely, but at the time—”

“What fever?”

“You developed an infection, more than one, actually. Your ear was the worst. By the third day you had a raging fever. The doctor tried several different medications, but nothing was working to reduce it. You were in too much pain, and it wouldn’t let you rest so you could mend. What he gave you for the pain didn’t work either, not completely, just made you think you were well enough to go out. It distorted your judgement. And half the time you were delirious.”

Melissa stared at Eleanor wide-eyed. A fever. Such a simple thing, and no one had guessed.

“Like he was crazy?” she said.

“I dislike that word,” Eleanor said with a frown.

“I dinna like it either, but he was accused o’ being crazy back then. Was it the fever, then, that made him behave so abnormal?”

“That and too many medications that weren’t working and shouldn’t have been given to him at
the same time. I nearly shot that doctor, when I realized he was treating Lincoln with newfangled medications that had yet to be proven effective, like he was using him to experiment on. That the fever finally put Lincoln into a coma was a blessing. It terrified me at the time, but it let him mend naturally.”

“Sae you didna force sleeping drafts on him, tae keep him in bed nearly a month?”

“Good heavens, no. That was tried at first and didn’t work. The pain countered it, and I refused to let the doctor use bigger doses.”

“How long did he remain unconscious?”

“Just over three weeks. During that time I was in communication with my brother Richard. He agreed to take Lincoln for a year or two.”

“Is that what you call the time I spent there?”

Lincoln’s voice was calmer, if still bitter. He should be relieved, though, to finally have it confirmed that he hadn’t gone crazy back then, that something as common as a high fever had been the culprit. She was certainly relieved. This was going to put her family’s worry to rest.

“That’s all it was to have been, your stay in England,” Eleanor answered him. “But then Richard found out he couldn’t have any more children and wanted to make you his heir. He convinced me that it would be better for you to remain there. He didn’t do it deliberately, and he was very subtle. I don’t think he even realized how selfish his motives were. He cared for you greatly, he wanted what was best for you, and he
felt that he could raise you better than I could. He was right in that respect. We were too isolated here, and without your father—You needed a man in your life to guide you.”

“But why did you send me away to begin with? Because I disobeyed you when I had that fever?”

“Lincoln, do you really have no memory of how you were before that?” Eleanor asked him. “You had been running wild since your father’s accident. You were breaking rules long before that fever.”

“How would you know?” he replied scathingly. “You were forever locked in your room, unavailable to me.”

“I know I had completely lost control of you,” she told him. “That fever only pointed out how much. But I also
know
it was my fault, that I didn’t have enough time to devote to you. I know I have no right to ask you for forgiveness. I really did think it was the best thing for you at the time, to live with your uncle, even though I would have preferred you to remain here with me. I ignored my own wishes to do what was in your best interest.”

“But it wasn’t in my best interest. When my father died, you might as well have died, too, for all the attention you gave me after that.”

Tears started falling from Eleanor’s eyes. “I had to make a choice, Lincoln, one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I had to choose between you and your father.”

“So you could mourn him without any distractions?” he said derisively.

“So I could take care of him.”

Lincoln became very still. “What the devil does that mean?”

“He made me promise I’d never tell you, or anyone, and I didn’t while he was alive, but…he didn’t die back then, Lincoln. He died only two years ago.”