Page 56 of The Wrong Bride
“Lady McCallum,” Riona said, “I am sorry for your mourning.”
Lady McCallum blinked weary gray eyes, dull and tired next to her son’s vivid coloring. “Mourning? My dear, in my opinion, the McCallum did not die soon enough.”
Riona inhaled with surprise, as both Hugh and Maggie stared with almost the same impassive expressions at their mother. Riona noticed Maggie’s eyes again, two different colors as Hugh had warned her, one blue, one green. The effect was . . . disconcerting, intriguing.
Then the siblings returned to their conversation.
“Oh,” Riona said uneasily. “Hugh has told me some of his difficulty with his father, and that you took Maggie and him away to protect them. That was very brave of you.”
Lady McCallum’s eyes really focused on her then. “Thank ye,” she murmured, then bent her head and took another tiny bite.
She was already thin, and if she didn’t start eating more than that . . . And this wasn’t mourning? Or was she mourning the loss of something else? Riona wondered, glancing at Hugh with speculation. He met her gaze impassively, giving nothing away.
While their chambers were being prepared afterthe departure of so many guests—Riona realized she now occupied the room Lady McCallum had once called her own—Hugh brought his mother and sister to the privacy of the chief’s dressing room. He relaxed away from the great hall, and Riona was able to see a playful, even tender side to him that showed how much he loved his sister.
And through it all, their mother sat alone and looked out the window.
Riona didn’t want to care, but she’d always been too curious for her own good. She offered Lady McCallum an embroidery frame, but the woman declined.
“The trip simply exhausted me,” she said in a quiet voice. “But thank ye.”
“I’m certain Mrs. Wallace will have your room ready for you to rest as soon as possible,” Riona said.
Riona worked on the simple embroidery for one of Hugh’s shirts and thought of her own family. Perhaps they’d come across just as troubled as the McCallums. Like Hugh and Maggie, she felt close to her own sister, but her parents . . . they were another matter.
“How was the journey north, Riona?” Maggie asked.
“Long, although your brother was thoughtful enough to use a coach for most of it.” She deliberately avoided Hugh’s gaze.
“But a coach on some of these roads?” Maggie shuddered. “I prefer riding a horse.”
Hugh said, “Ye wouldn’t have said the same were ye caught in a few rainstorms.”
“True.” Maggie turned again to Riona. “I do believe you and I must have met as children, because I well remember your brother.”
There was an edge to her voice now, and Riona couldn’t help wondering about the McCallums and secrets. Maggie’s unusual eyes seemed to be trying to see deep inside her, and it gave her an unsettled feeling.
“I was seldom in Scotland,” Riona said. “Owen, being the heir, was here more often with the earl.” Not her brother, not her father. She was feeling on edge herself, realizing she had her own secrets. She wanted to blurt them out, but caution stopped her. She was the enemy here. When they all found out Hugh had captured the wrong bride . . . “I’m curious how you and Owen knew each other, considering our clans have not always been on the best of terms.”
Maggie and Hugh exchanged an unreadable glance.
“I tried to forge a friendship with the countess,” Lady McCallum said, “for the sake of both our clans. ’Tis the reason your marriage contract even came about.” She shot a concerned glance at Hugh, as if she expected him to retort.
Of course there’d been a time in his life when he’d wanted to choose his own bride regardless of the contract, Riona remembered. Had that been the reason he and his mother didn’t get along?
“Whose idea was it to stipulate that the whisky land be shared?” Riona asked.
“There would have been no contract otherwise,” Hugh said coolly. “Your father would not grant ye and your tocher to a McCallum without a great offer in return. Sharing the land for all these years has put a strain our own ability to profit from the whisky. But you Duffs were able to create your own recipe and succeed beyond what ye’d done before.”
“And marriage is all about an exchange of goods, isn’t it?” she said, bitterness creeping into her voice.
Maggie and Lady McCallum looked at her far too closely.
“It hasn’t been easy for Riona,” Hugh said to his family. “She’s a Duff, who was taught to disavow the country of her birth, who doesn’t speak our language. Imagine yourselves alone with another clan, knowing no one, never having heard that your family offered ye to settle an old feud. She’s been taken away from everything she knew, everything she thought her future would be.”
Riona blinked quickly, feeling the sting of tears she refused to shed. But she couldn’t look away from Hugh.
“Well, it seems ye both have forged a beginning,”Maggie said hesitantly. “Ye’re not spitting hatred at each other.”
