Page 86 of Hard-Hearted Highlander
“Bernadette?”
She twisted around, surprised by the sound of Rabbie’s voice. And then she was overwhelmed by it, relieved and grateful and wanting nothing more than to collapse in his arms.
He frowned with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Has something happened, then?”
“Yes, something...” She swallowed.
“Come,” he said, and put his hand to her back, ushering her past Frang and into a sitting room. “Sit,” he commanded her. He strode to the sideboard, poured a glass of water and returned with it, sitting next to her as he handed her the glass. His presence next to her kicked up the dust of her feelings, still so raw, and they began to eddy in her. Desire. Want.Love.All of them mixing together and making her reel.
He laid his hand on hers and said, “Take a breath,leannan,then tell me what has happened.”
The feel of his hand on hers was more comforting than she had a right to expect. “Two men came,” she explained. “Bhaltair Buchanan and another one. They said they would return and throw out any rubbish that remained.”
Rabbie nodded.
“They—they were rather menacing, and Charles, the footman, thought we ought to ask for help, because we both had the sense they mean bad business. If help can be spared, that is.” She swallowed. “I’d not ask, I wouldn’t bother you at all after what...” After what she’d said to him, words that still burned in her gullet. “But we’ve no protection for ourselves, and we are English...”
“Bloody bastards, the lot of them. Aye, stay here,” he said. He stood abruptly and walked out of the receiving room.
Bernadette waited. She drank the water, put the glass aside and stood, too restless to sit. She began to pace before a narrow window. Her palms were damp, and she rubbed then along her sides. Her heart felt erratic, as if it couldn’t beat quite fast enough, but then again, it was beating so fast that it felt uncomfortable in her chest, and she wondered if perhaps her heart, made so heavy in these last few days, was giving way.
A few moments later Rabbie swept into the room. “Niall MacDonald will take two men to Killeaven and remain there until the household sails,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said with a rush of gratitude and reassurance.
“You are welcome here, Bernadette. You will be safe—”
“No, thank you,” she said quickly. She couldn’t bear it. “I am needed at Killeaven.”
“Then I’ll take you back,” he said.
God in heaven, she couldn’t bear that any better. She couldn’t ride with him and feel him at her back, his arm around her middle, and hold her emotions in check. She would break apart into pieces. “Thank you. But I’ll walk.”
Rabbie frowned. He moved closer. “I know why you have put this distance between us, I do,” he said. “I know the truth about you,leannan,and I donna care.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “Pardon?” No, he couldn’t possibly know all of it, and Bernadette began to shake her head.
“Donna hide from me, lass.”
“I don’t know what you think you know—”
“Daisy recalled your name,” he said quietly.
Her body felt as if it was floating, even though she still stood before him. Surely he hadn’t heard everything. “I told you that I eloped—”
“I know there was a bairn, Bernadette.”
The mention of her lost baby caused Bernadette’s knees to suddenly wobble. She grabbed on to the back of a chair to steady herself, and he caught her arm, leaning over her.
“My deepest condolences, lass. I canna bear to think of your pain.”
Her pain. He had no idea how deep her pain was. Bernadette hadn’t thought of that night in so long. She’d struggled to put the horror behind her, but at a single mention, it all came smashing through her windows, the force of her memories startling her.
It had been a beautiful summer night, the lawn lit by so many bright stars. She’d been seven months along in her pregnancy. As her belly had grown, so had her father’s hatred of her. He’d once adored her, had called her his princess. But he’d never forgiven her elopement or the child growing in her. He’d worked hard for his wealth and had set his sights on substantial social connections, and in his eyes, Bernadette had ruined all he’d worked so hard to achieve.
That night, at the top of the stairs, as he’d gone up to bed and she’d gone down for water, he’d said she disgusted him, and Bernadette...oh, how it hurt to think of it.
She put both hands on the back of the chair, fearful that her knees would give away.
