Page 47 of Hard-Hearted Highlander
“That it is,” Rabbie agreed, and looked curiously at his brother. “What would you have done in my shoes?”
Aulay shrugged. “I donna know. I’ll never know, will I? My own fate is no’ entirely of my choosing, either. The trade is all we’ve left, and if I donna sail, who will?” He smiled wryly. “As your fate was set for you, so was mine set for me, lad. The difference between us is that I donna despair for my future. But if I didna have the sea?” He shook his head. “I donna know.”
That was the truth of it—two brothers bound by duty to the family, one of them happy with the path, the other wretchedly unhappy. Rabbie sighed wearily. It seemed he was always sighing, as if he carried the weight of this clan on his back. He turned back to the looking glass to straighten his neck cloth.
Aulay walked to the window and looked out. “You do this for all Mackenzies, and God thank you for it. I believe Seona would have understood.”
Rabbie’s head came round at that. No one ever mentioned her to him. No doubt because when they did, he reacted much like he did now—his tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth and he couldn’t quite find the words to speak.
Aulay turned from the window and locked his gaze on Rabbie. “Aye, she would have, lad. Think about that—you know better than anyone that she did all that she could to save her family, aye? She is the one who sent the bairns to safety. She would expect the same of you, she would.”
The mass of guilt and grief swelled in Rabbie’s chest, pressing against his ribs, making him feel almost as if he couldn’t breathe. Would she approve? Would she want him to go through with this marriage to save his family? Would she have done the same?
“Let her go, laddie,” Aulay said quietly.
Rabbie shook his head.
Aulay walked to where Rabbie stood and placed his hand on his shoulder. “God rest her soul, but Seona is gone, aye? You canna bring her back. You canna change what happened. You canna stop living. She’d want you to live, she would, you know that is true. It’s time you let her go and stop mourning. If you want a wee bit of her, acquaint yourself with her niece and nephew.”
Rabbie opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“I canna bear to watch you live the rest of your life in misery and guilt, lad. Miss Kent is a pretty little lass, and with time, she’ll make you a good wife. You could verra well enjoy the union, if only you will allow.”
Rabbie wanted to argue that it was too late, that his misery had been sealed for him the day they’d arrived back at Balhaire and his father had met him at the cove with such abject sorrow on his face that Rabbie’s gut still churned when he thought of it.
Aulay patted Rabbie’s cheek. “Think on it. Now come,” he said, smiling. “The bloodySassenachhave invaded.”
* * *
THEENGLISHHADarrived in their finery, seemingly oblivious to the looks of hostility as they swanned through the great hall on their way to the dais, and ignored the dogs that had come forward to sniff them.
There was a bit of ceremony as the so-called happy couple was presented, and Rabbie stood before his clan, the lass’s tiny hand in his. There was a smattering of polite applause, but nothing like the days of old when the applause would have been thunderous, the good wishes called up to them ribald, the smiles on the faces of the people quite genuine in their happiness for a union that would benefit the Mackenzie clan.
His clan endured it scarcely better than he.
The feasting began after that, and Miss Kent retreated to the safety of her mother’s side. Her father and equally odious uncle fell quickly into their cups as they seemed to do at every opportunity. Catriona began to whisper in Miss Kent’s ear again, no doubt explaining now how Rabbie’s dislike of peas had stemmed from an unfortunate incident when he was six years old. He knew his sister, and he knew she would leave no tale untold, especially not with a new, impressionable audience. He’d not bothered to chastise Catriona for revealing his deepest pain to Miss Kent—he couldn’t even summon the energy to be angry about it.
Rabbie’s mother kept glancing away from the dais, to where the remains of their clan were seated, her expression a beseeching one. She could beseech all she liked, but the Mackenzies who had survived the worst spring of their lives would never accept theseSassenach,not after so much pain and loss. Aye, they would accept that he was forced to marry one of them, but call Miss Kent their own? Never.
Miss Holly sat next to Niall MacDonald, several seats away from Rabbie. She kept her hands folded in her lap, her back straight, her gaze fixed on something above the heads of the clan. Rabbie tried not to look at her. He tried harder not to conjure up that kiss, but he wasn’t strong enough to fight it.
Aye, she was a bonny woman. She’d put her hair up in a fashionable way that drew his attention to the spot just behind her ear that he’d kissed. She wore a gown of dark green, the stomacher cinched so tightly that her breasts seemed to spill like cream from her bodice.Diah,but Rabbie didn’t want to notice her, didn’t want to think of her, and yet, he was still a man, and he could not deny that some part of him, apparently still very much alive, had been awakened by her.
He still burned with the humiliation that she’d kissed him out of pity, with the indignation that she was English, with the impatience that she thought she could possibly understand what he’d endured. But he was also consumed with a need he’d not felt in a very long time. He’d buried that need so deeply that he’d hardly recognized it at first. But it had seen light, and he could feel it blooming in him.
The meal had been served, and the musicians had begun to play. Aulay invited Miss Kent to dance with him, and several others stood up to dance as well. The clan was beginning to disregard theSassenachon the dais and enjoy the evening. “We’ve needed this,” his mother said proudly into Rabbie’s ear. “Do you see, darling? We’ve all needed something to celebrate, something to look forward to.”
He couldn’t disagree. These gatherings had once happened with great frequency. Now, the moments and reasons for celebration were quite rare.
Again, Rabbie’s gaze strayed down the dais to Miss Holly, who was watching the dancing. She reminded him of a prim-and-proper English governess who’d been relegated to the wall to watch the dancing instead of participate. He couldn’t bear it any longer—he stood from his chair, swiped up his tankard of ale and walked down the dais. He kicked back a chair next to her and sat heavily, clapping his tankard onto the tabletop. He didn’t look at her at first, but stared blindly at the dancers. After a long moment, he turned his head and admired her regal profile. Naturally, she had not looked at him, either—they were the both of them fighting it, then.
“Enjoying the evening, are you?” he asked.
She glanced at him sidelong. “Not particularly. You?”
“No’ at all,” he said, and turned his attention back to the dancing.
“You’ve come dressed as a Scot,” she said, her voice full of curiosity.
