Page 60 of The Wrong Bride
“Did you help each other avoid your father when he was drunk?”
He frowned, and the dazed look began to fade, only to be replaced by consternation. “Of course. ’Twas my duty to protect her. Father didn’t try to beat her, but . . .”
“You worried he might, since he beat you.”
Hugh didn’t answer.
“She was only your duty?”
His dark brows came together swiftly. “Of course not. I love her.”
“Then you know how important love is, how difficult it must be when people don’t have that within a marriage.”
Rolling his eyes, he ran a hand through his long hair. “Riona, we haven’t had enough time together to know—”
“And we cannot, Hugh. I cannot marry you, and I won’t be your mistress, and that’s the only way this”—she gestured between the two of them—“is heading.”
He just stared at her, his expression blank, as if he was going to keep concealing anything he wanted from her.
“Your sister’s eyes are fascinating. Do superstitious people stare at her?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it and turned away from her, slamming the door behind him.
Riona slumped back on the bed and coveredher face with both hands. Disappointment surged through her, and she almost—almost—went to him. But if she did that, her resistance would be over. He could get her with child, and when proof of the truth came out, she’d be as alone as Agnes had been.
There’d be no husband for her, no children. This solitary grief for the life she could never have was for the best. So why did tears continue to stream down her face?
HUGHdeparted with the men at midmorning on the promised hunt, though it was obvious he regretted leaving his sister just after she’d arrived. Riona stood beside Maggie and watched the mounted group ride slowly across the courtyard. Dermot and Samuel remained behind with some of the older men—none of whom were happy about it. But Alasdair was going with Hugh, and Riona hoped they could return to the friendship they’d once had.
Hugh saluted Riona and Maggie, but he didn’t smile. He gave Riona a piercing look that warned her not to attempt to escape. She only lifted her chin and gave him a cool look back.
Riona found herself quite monopolized the rest of the day by Hugh’s sister, who seemed delighted that her brother would be marrying at last. There wasn’t a moment for Riona to corner Dermot and try again to win his regard, partly because she wasworried how it would look to Maggie. Riona knew she shouldn’t care, that the truth coming out was more important, that Maggie was going to be hurt regardless, but . . . she felt like a coward.
Lady McCallum spent the whole day in her room, and at breakfast the next morning, Riona questioned Maggie about it.
“Is your mother resting after the journey?” Riona asked.
“I believe so,” Maggie said. “But she’s not the most social of women anymore. She’s behaving as subdued as if in mourning, though she lived apart from my father for many years before his death.”
“Perhaps there are better memories she is mourning?”
“If so, I never heard them. He had control of himself when we were very young, although my earliest memories are still of him drinking heartily at every meal, becoming more and more vocal because of it. But in battle people feared him. In some ways Hugh resembles him, with his height and strength.”
“Sometimes I think Hugh drinks a bit too much, like his father,” Riona said hesitantly, then added, “But I’ve never seen him out of control, and he doesn’t yell.”
Maggie’s lips parted as if Riona had given her the greatest shock. “I cannot believe that Hugh gets drunk often. Everyone here drinks the whisky.”
“That’s true. I don’t mean to impugn his character.” She felt a little sick inside, knowing her worry was making Hugh look bad in his sister’s eyes.
Maggie nodded, through her frown still lingered. “I ken these last ten years have been difficult for Hugh, forced to be away from the clan by attending university, and then being an MP. Did the clan . . . accept him upon his return?”
“Yes, of course, but there was—is—a wariness. I imagine he needs to prove himself and this hunt will probably help. He trains with the men on the training yard, which certainly shows his skill, but it’s not the same as what you do in the spur of the moment.”
“True. He never stopped training. His skill with the sword was legendary in London.”
“He does not speak much of his time there, and says Scottish MPs were not treated well.”
Maggie nodded. “’Twas a scandal that the British government—of which Scotland is supposed to be an equal part—would allow some of its politicians to be degraded by others. But Hugh did his duty and bided his time until our father’s death. Now ’tishistime, his turn to prove himself. With you at his side, I don’t see how he can go wrong,” she added, smiling.
