Page 77 of To Wed an Heiress
She’d dreaded her wedding night with Gregory. She and Ruthie had discussed it and her education had expanded due to the other woman’s knowledge. Ruthie had eleven siblings and they’d lived in a small apartment. She knew where babies came from and she’d imparted that knowledge to Mercy.
“I’m a good girl myself, Miss Mercy, but I know a few who aren’t. They do the deed sometimes for money, but mostly for the love of it.”
She couldn’t imagine going to Gregory’s bed for the love of it, especially after today. Or was it yesterday? She had no idea of the time.
But Lennox’s bed? Her cheeks burned. Yes, she could well imagine that. And, even more shockingly, wanted it.
Was he going to return? Maybe he’d been so offended by her words that he intended to avoid her completely.
After removing her dress, she hung it over the top of the screen. Her corset was almost as damp as it had been when she’d been swimming in the loch. Her petticoats still dripped and her shift clung wetly to her skin. She peeled it off and draped it over the washbasin table.
There was a small bit of toweling next to the washbasin, but it wasn’t sufficient to dry her completely. She peeked around the screen. The door was firmly closed so she went to the end of the bed, stripped off the bedspread, and wrapped herself in it.
The warmth of the fire beckoned and she sat on the rug in front of it. Tucking the bedspread beneath her arms, she leaned closer to the fire, threading her fingers through her wet hair.
A small white dish filled with potpourri sat on the mantel. As the heat rose, it carried the scent with it—cinnamon and something that reminded her of oranges.
Raindrops made their way into the chimney, hissing as the fire devoured them. Thunder still roared overhead as if this Highland storm was a beast of the clouds and sky. She couldn’t see how it would simply be tamed by dawn.
She could just imagine her grandmother’s comments if she could see her now. Shameful, unladylike, a disgrace, a stain on the family name. No doubt Ailsa would call her those and more.
Right at the moment, Mercy wasn’t trying to be perfect or to please anyone. Sitting on the floor in front of a fire in a Scottish castle on a stormy night, she was simply warming herself.
Regardless of what she did after tonight, someone was going to disapprove of her. She was going to disappoint someone. Yet she was more than content. She was happy, a realization that startled her.
It wasn’t being at Duddingston Castle. Nor was it escaping Macrory House. She was happy because she was with Lennox.
Yet it was evident that nothing could come of any relationship with him. His pride would not allow him to marry her, for whatever amount of money. That was obvious from his reaction to her proposal. Her being an heiress was a detriment, not an asset.
There was no sense involving yourself in a romance with no future. A thought she’d had about Ruthie and Connor. How sad that it fit her situation as well.
If only she could be someone else. A Scottish woman, perhaps, with a great deal more courage. Someone who lived at the castle and who faced both the hardships and the blessings of each day with a smile and an optimistic heart.
As long as she was pretending, she’d make Lennox her husband. She allowed herself to daydream about his return. Perhaps every night she waited for him and every night he greeted her with a kiss before taking her to their bed.
What would it be like to love him? To be able to touch him freely and tell him her secret thoughts? To look her fill at him without shame? She’d never know. After tonight she’d never see him again. She’d find a way to Inverness and leave Scotland.
The country would always exist in her mind as a place of possibilities unfulfilled, of hope and sorrow. She’d always remember him. There was a spot in her heart that had already been carved out and marked Lennox.
He hadn’t lied. Lennox hadn’t given any thought to marriage. Perhaps in the back of his mind he’d known that it was something he would do, sooner or later. He’d never considered that a woman would propose to him. An heiress, no less.
He descended the stairs and headed for his tower bedroom.
He’d also never considered the type of woman he would marry. It had never occurred to him to do so. Now, because of Mercy’s words, he couldn’t help but give it some thought.
She’d have to be loyal, that was a given. She would have to have a fondness for Duddingston since it would be her home and the home of their children. He would want her to encourage him in his pursuits. Whether or not that included flying was something he would have to consider. Intrepid—that was another quality she would have to have. Someone with a heart of courage. A woman who would jump into a loch to save him, for example.
Mercy Rutherford had twisted him up in knots from the first moment he’d seen her. Nothing had been right about his life since the day of the accident. It wasn’t because his airship had nearly been destroyed. Or because Ruthie had broken her arm and it had been his fault. No, it was all because of Mercy.
She’d reminded him of those tumultuous days after Robert had died, when destiny had stood in front of him and forced him to reconsider his life.
He was the last of his family, the last of his line. He’d given some thought to simply turning his back on Duddingston Castle and the history of the Caithearts in the Highlands. He’d trained as a physician. Was he simply supposed to give up all that for the sake of a few bricks?
In the end, he had. There hadn’t been any other alternative. If Robert hadn’t worked so hard for so many years to keep up the family legacy, perhaps his decision would have been different. If he hadn’t been the last of his line, perhaps he could have remained in Edinburgh, finished his studies, and begun his own practice.
He’d made difficult decisions before and paid the price they’d demanded. There were times when he regretted not being a doctor, but fewer than he’d first imagined. He had a duty to Duddingston, his clan, and his family. He’d find a way to ensure that the castle survived, that the Caitheart clan prospered, and that their name would not be forgotten.
Perhaps it was pride, after all. Or the calling of his clan. He could no more abandon his heritage than he could accede to Mercy’s outrageous plan.
