White Regency 03 - White Knight (28 page)

And what she saw there literally took her
breath away.

“Leaving the celebration so soon, my
lady?”

Christian stood silhouetted by the shadows
of the darkened corridor, just outside the great hall, away from the noise and
light of the gathering. “I was just coming to look for you. I—”
Grace’s words caught in her throat and stuck there as Christian stepped forward
in the muted torchlight. No longer did he wear the carefully knotted neckcloth
and high-pointed collar of the stylish English gentleman. Instead he had donned
a plain linen
sark
with the full sleeves
rolled loosely over his forearms and lace ties opened at the neck. In place of
his tailored breeches and perfectly polished Hessians he wore a kilt fashioned
in the familiar chequered shades of the Skynegal tartan. And he was smiling, a
carefree, contagious, and utterly charming grin that curled his mouth and
wrapped its warmth around her like a cloak of summer sunshine.

Grace blinked, twice, but the image didn’t
fade. She suddenly understood why Liza had been so transfixed by the sight of
Andrew MacAlister. She couldn’t take her eyes from Christian.

“Christian, you are wearing a
kilt,” she said. It was laughably obvious, but she was so distracted by
the sight of him that she scarcely realized her words. “I grew weary of
being the only one in breeches.” Grace simply stared at him more.
“Actually, I thought perhaps it was time to shed the image of the noble
English lord and acknowledge my position as laird of Skynegal.”

From the moment Christian had arrived at
Skynegal, Grace had held the secret hope that he might realize the
virtues of the estate
which, while not a financial bounty, had the merits of tradition and kinship
and physical beauty that could not be exceeded. She had hoped that he wouldn’t
turn a blind eye to the people and their plight, that he would realize their
importance and embrace his place as their patriarch. Tonight he had surpassed
that hope, giving her the most precious gift she had ever been given. Before
that moment, Grace would never have thought she could love Christian more than
she already did.

She was wrong.

“Thank you, Christian.”

“I’ll take that to mean that you
approve.” He presented his arm to her, that strange and wonderful smile
still curving his mouth. “Shall we proceed to the hall, my lady?”

Grace gave a wordless nod. It was all she
could manage.

As they came into the great hall, most
everyone was still taken up with the dancing. They walked across the room and
Grace caught sight of Catriona standing with Robert near the hearth. The duke
was garbed like Christian in
sark
and kilt, but in the
same tartan that made up Catriona’s gown. They exchanged greetings with their
friends while one of the women brought them cups of Deirdre’s tasty gooseberry
punch. Grace found herself wondering how the evening could be any more
complete.

She wasn’t left wondering long.

A moment later, Deirdre appeared in the
entrance to the hall, accompanied by two newcomers.

Christian noticed them first.

“Nell!”

He crossed the distance to his sister in
three strides and took her tightly against him. “Still tagging along after
Big Brother, eh?”

Eleanor grinned. “I just couldn’t
resist the sight of you in a kilt.”

After greeting her brother, Eleanor turned
to embrace Grace. “I am so very relieved to know Christian has found you.”

Grace had always regretted having left
London without first bidding farewell to Christian’s sister, for she had been
so kind to her after their marriage. Lady Frances
stood beside Eleanor and
greeted Grace with a gentle smile.

“Indeed, dear, you had us all so very
worried.” “I am sorry for leaving as I did. I…” She faltered.
“…It was just…”

Lady Frances took her hand and squeezed
it. “Let us not speak of that now, dear. You are here and we are together
again as a family. That is all that matters.”

Family. Togetherness.
How wonderful the sound of those two words were,
particularly now that she carried Christian’s child.

“But how did you find your way to
Skynegal?” Christian asked. “I had posted a letter sending for you,
but that was only a few days ago. You couldn’t have received it so soon.”

“Actually, dear, we were brought here
by—” But Christian had already found his answer, having noticed the
arrival of a third newcomer—his grandfather, the duke.

“What is he doing here?”

Lady Frances answered, “Christian, it
was he who asked us to accompany him and he was very kind throughout our
journey. He seems sincere. Perhaps he has had a change of heart.”

Christian’s smile darkened to a bitter
frown. “How could he, Mother? He doesn’t have one.”

Grace broke away from them and crossed the
hall to where the duke stood, hanging back from the gathering in the doorway of
the great hall. “Good evening,
Your
Grace.”
She curtsied before him. “What a nice surprise to see you.”

The old man raised a cynical brow. “I
rather doubt your husband shares your feelings.”

Grace refused to be baited by his
bitterness. Instead she slipped her hand into his. “Come, Your Grace, join
the gathering.”

The duke looked startled at the gesture,
but didn’t refuse as he followed her into the hall.

The others in the great hall soon took
notice of their arrival and at the sight of their lord and lady together, in
the Skynegal colors. The people stopped their dancing and gave a cheer. As Grace
watched on, Christian
walked
about the room and greeted everyone he met by name. She noticed that he
purposely avoided his grandfather.

“Let us give a cheer for the laird
and lady of Skynegal,” someone called, and everyone hollered out
“Aye!”

The piper then struck up a lively reel and
the assembly scrambled, forming two large circles in the center of the room,
ladies on the outside,
men
on the inside. As the
dancers began to weave in and out, they pulled Christian and Grace along,
laughing good-naturedly as Christian struggled to keep in step. Soon most everyone
in the hall was skipping and turning, hands clapping, feet stomping, laughing
out loud as the music played on and on. Even the old duke seemed to enjoy the
merrymaking as he stood chatting with Deirdre near the fire.

Alastair hopped into the center of the
circle of dancers and surprised them all as he hopped and stepped to the lively
tune with an ease that belied his girth. He rejoined the circle and another
took his place as a fiddler then joined the piper. The music was so spirited,
the tempo so alive, even the fire burning in the hearth crackled as if joining
in the revelry.

Grace had turned about and was making to
weave her way back through the line of dancers when she felt a sudden pulling
across her abdomen that caused her to falter. Her immediate thought was of the
babe and she broke away from the chain of dancers, crossing the room to sit on
a corner bench. The tightness in her belly soon subsided, but Grace decided it
best that she sit out on the vigorous dancing. A moment later, Christian was
kneeling beside her, his face filled with concern.

“Grace, is something wrong?”

She smiled and took his hand. “No,
just a little too much dancing, I suspect.” She looked at him.
“Christian, there is something I must tell you. We are—”

“My lady!” Liza rushed over from
the dancing to join her, Andrew coming with her. The maid pressed a hand
against Grace’s temple. “I noticed you falter. Are you unwell? Is it the
babe?”

Christian looked at her. “Babe?”

“A babe?” Eleanor echoed, having
somehow appeared beside her.

Suddenly there was an outburst of excited
chatter as news of Grace’s suspected pregnancy spread quickly around the room.

Grace looked to Christian. His expression
had gone blank and he was staring at her queerly.

“Grace, do you mean to say you are with
child?” She could not truly sense if he was pleased by the news. He looked
so stunned. She only knew that this was not at all how she had intended for him
to learn of the coming of their child. “Grace?”

Tentatively, Grace nodded. “Yes,
Christian. You are to be a father.”

The entire assembly seemed to erupt all at
once with cheers and hollers of congratulations. Everyone filled their cups,
passing toasts all around for the laird and lady’s coming child.

Grace watched Christian closely as he
accepted well wishes from those around him. He shook their hands and nodded his
thanks, but there was something clearly missing. Everybody else was so taken
with their enthusiasm, only she seemed to notice that the expectant father
wasn’t smiling.

When the merriment had fully resumed,
taking everyone’s attention back to the dancing, Christian turned without a
word and started walking from the room. He disappeared into the corridor that
led to the outside courtyard.

Grace glanced at Liza beside her. The maid
looked close to tears.

“I am so sorry, my lady. When I saw
you waver in the lines of dancers, I was so worried about you and the babe, I
didn’t even think that you hadn’t yet told his lordship.”

“It is all right, Liza.” Grace
squeezed the maid’s hand and looked at Andrew, who took his cue, coming
forward.

Grace stood. “I must go and talk to
Christian.”

As she started off in his direction, she
tried to tell herself that he was not displeased about the babe, but
that he was disappointed
she had waited so long to tell him. All she would need to do, she thought, was
explain her reasons.

Grace found Christian standing in the
moonlight in the courtyard, one foot propped up against a rock, his hand
resting on his knee. His back was to her as he stared in silent contemplation at
the shadowed mountains to the east. If he heard her approach, he didn’t
acknowledge it. Grace hesitated, searching for her words.

“Christian, I was hoping we might
talk.”

As she came to his side, she could see in
the moonlight that his jaw was clenched tightly, the muscles working as he
fought so obviously against his emotions.

Finally he said, his voice frighteningly
hollow, “How long have you known?”

“I first suspected the day you
arrived at Skynegal.”

“It has been many days, yet you said
nothing to me.”

He was angry that she had kept the news of
the child from him. If only she could make him understand the fear and
uncertainty she had felt. “Christian, I am sorry I did not tell you
before. I—”

Christian turned to face her, his eyes so
bleak, it frightened her. “It doesn’t matter, Grace. It is too late.”

“Too late? Christian, I don’t
understand…”

“Do you not see? He has won.”

Christian laughed then, a terrible, bitter
sound that carried on the shifting wind. “No matter how I tried, he has
still found a way to outwit me.”

Grace was only growing more confused.
“Who, Christian? Who has won?”

“I would guess he speaks of me,
Grace.”

Christian turned his back on her to face
the old duke who had come out onto the courtyard behind them. All the pain he
had endured, the shame, the guilt that had kept him prisoner so long, surged
through him in a burst of rage, forcing him to let go of the anger he had kept
locked inside himself over the past twenty years.

He rounded on the duke. “You always
knew you would conquer me, didn’t you, you bastard? From the day I was born you
hated me because I was more like him than you. You vowed to make my life a
living hell
and
I handed you the very means for you to do it. And now you have succeeded. You
have made my misery complete!”

Christian shut his eyes tightly against
the unspeakable anguish that threatened to rip him in two. His hands were
fisted and his jaw was so tight, his breath seethed from his nose. A moment,
two. Then, from somewhere deep inside, a new and unfamiliar feeling of strength
began to rise up inside of him. It swelled and it grew into a conscious
defiance against all that had kept him chained to the past for so long. Like
the lion who finally breaks free from his chains, Christian gathered that
strength, embracing it to him. He could never again allow that man to beat him.
He would no longer live as he had before, shackled by a foolish pledge he had
made as a child. Not for himself—and not for his future child. Christian lifted
his gaze to the duke again. “You will not win, old man. I don’t care what
our agreement was. Do what you must, but I promise you now, I will see you in
hell before I will every allow you to ruin my son the way you have ruined
me.”

Unable to stand the sight of his
grandfather any longer, Christian turned, looking to draw Grace into his arms,
to allow her into the heart he had kept shut away from her so long. Only she
was no longer there.