Page 88 of The Last Debutante
“But she isEnglish!” Isabella cried. “You scarcely know her! How could you, Jamie? How could you do that to your clan? To Scotland? Is anEnglishwoman worth everything that will befall you and your clan if you donna take the offer we’ve made you?”
He pressed his lips together. He didn’t believe Isabella truly wanted to hear his answer.
“Mi Diah,Jamie, think of what you are doing,” Isabella beseeched him. “Your people will no’ stand for it, aye? She canna protect you from Murchison. No good can come of it. You are infatuated, and one day you will regret that you did no’ marry the Campbells and the Brodies, and it will be too late.”
“I canna help what is, Issy. It’s more than my feelings for her. It’s my honor as well, can you no’ see it? If I married you, loving someone else, I would no’ be true to either of us. Is that truly what you want?”
“I donna care about your bloody honor,” she said angrily. “Ach,you Campbells are all the same! My father warned me I should never trust you, and I defended you! First your brother, and nowyou,Jamie. You have just deepened a rift between the Campbells and the Brodies that will never be repaired. Were I you, I would say farewell to my people and begin to study the farming of sheep, for that’s what you and the English whore will be doing.” She strode quickly from the room, throwing the door open and running out.
Jamie sighed, then closed his eyes.It was done. He’d just made life harder for the Campbells, all for the sake of his heart.
He waited a moment for his head to clear. When it did not, he walked out before a Brodie took it from his shoulders.
HE RODE ASfast as he could through the hills to Dundavie. He knew that Murchison would hear of this and gleefully dive into the rift between the Campbells and the Brodies. He was equally certain that the Brodies would sell as they had threatened to do. He fully expected that Isabella would mourn a day or two and then be on about the business of the Brodie clan. So he had best see about draining the bog as quickly as possible, and even then, he wasn’t certain it would be enough.
Duff greeted him in the bailey as he rode in, a hint of a smile on his fleshy face. “How did you find the Brodies?” he asked hopefully.
Jamie came off his horse and looked at his old friend. “I did no’ accept the offer, Duff.”
A range of emotions instantly flitted across Duff’s fleshy face. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Might have avoided a lot of trouble if you’d accepted the betrothal.”
“I am painfully aware, aye,” Jamie agreed. He didn’t say more; he didn’t know how to tell a man like Duff that he could no more marry Isabella than he could marry Duff. And Jamie was certain that Duff would not approve of Daria as his choice for a wife. Yet he was helpless to stop himself. Everything about Daria, from the moment he’d awoken in that opiate haze and seen her, had been beyond his control. He did not want to love her, he didnot. But God help him, he did, with everything that he was, and he felt at his core that he could not live without her.
The Campbells would accept it, or they would choose a new laird.
“More English have come,” Duff said.
“Diah,are there none left in England, then? Who is it now?”
“The lass’s parents.”
Jamie stilled.
“In the throne room,” Duff added, and turned about, moving for the door of the keep.
Jamie pulled his saddle off Niall and handed it to the stable lad. “Rub him down,” he said, and removing his gloves, he walked into the keep.
Jamie had expected Daria’s parents to be strong and spirited, as she was. He was not prepared for the couple who looked so uncertain when he entered. Miss Scott was with them, but she remained seated.
“Good afternoon,” he said. As he approached, the couple seemed to take a small step back. They reminded him of a pair of hares who would, at any moment, hop off and hide in their hole.
Jamie paused before them and looked directly at the balding man.
“Ah...” The man cleared his throat and took a small step forward. “Mr. Richard Babcock at your service, sir,” he said, and fixed his gaze on Jamie’s neckcloth. “Thank you for receiving us,” he said softly. “We came as soon as we received Daria’s letter.”
Jamie nodded. He thought the man might introduce his wife, but he said, “We brought the ransom,” so softly that Jamie wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard him. Mr. Babcock glanced at his wife, who opened her reticule and removed a bundle wrapped in vellum. She handed it to her husband, who in turn held it out to Jamie. “It’s all there, you have my word.”
Jamie arched a brow. “One would think that a man might first have a question or two for his daughter’s captor, aye? Such as why it is I found it necessary to hold her for ransom? Are you no’ a wee bit curious?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Mr. Babcock said nervously. “But we are quite concerned for Daria and should like to make the necessary arrangements to have her back.”
“Aye.” Jamie nodded at Duff, who stepped forward to take the bundle from Mr. Babcock. He handed it over hesitantly and swallowed hard as Duff’s hand closed around it.
“Will you no’ sit?” Jamie asked them, gesturing to chairs. The Babcocks chose a bench and sat as one, their hands clasped. Miss Scott sat across from them.
“I thank you for returning my uncle’s money to us,” he said as he took his seat.
“Pardon?” Mr. Babcock asked.
