Page 54 of My Highland Rogue
He didn’t understand what his father was saying, but credited it to the laudanum.
“Why don’t you drink your tea? Sally put some whiskey in it.”
“If you’d only stayed away, everything would have been fine. Why did you even come back?”
“Because Jennifer wrote that you were ill. I thought it would be the right thing to do.”
“You didn’t come back because of me. I was just an excuse.”
That comment had enough truth in it that Gordon remained silent.
“It’s because of her that it has to come out, all of it. All of the secrets.”
“Leave Jennifer out of this, Da. She doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
“Go away. Just go away. If you go away now, it might be all right. Promise me you’ll leave now.”
Nothing had changed since that night five years ago when Sean was eager to banish him from Adaire Hall because McBain and Harrison wanted it.
Not once had his father put up an objection.
McBain, Harrison, and Sean had stood on the steps of Adaire Hall as the carriage rolled beneath the oaks, cleared the gates, then made it up the hill. At the top he looked back to find them still watching, like he was a rabid dog they were afraid might return.
The anger rolled in from the past, anchoring itself beneath Gordon’s breastbone.
“I’m not going anywhere. Maybe once you could throw me out of the Hall, but not now.”
Sean didn’t answer.
“I could buy and sell this place a hundred times over, but I still wouldn’t be good enough for you, would I?”
Sean closed his eyes. “It’s the girl. You still want her, don’t you?”
“Hell, yes. When I leave here, Jennifer is coming with me. She and I are going to be married.”
“You can’t have her.”
“Why, because I’m not good enough for an Adaire?”
“No, because she’s your sister.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“Did you hear me?”
Yes, he’d heard. The words didn’t make any sense, however, unless Sean was hallucinating. Laudanum had that effect on some people.
He understood that. He was willing to accept any kind of behavior in this situation. However, telling him that he and Jennifer were related? That seemed more bizarre than a simple hallucination.
Did Death have a face? It was there in that room. He could almost see it superimposed over Sean’s features. Pain lingered in his eyes, the set of his mouth, and the tense muscles of his neck.
The tea was cooling in the cup on the bedside table. Perhaps he should drink it. The whiskey might shock him out of this feeling of being disembodied.
“I did wrong by you,” Sean said.
How very odd to hear those words from his father. He’d never expected to hear them. Evidently, Death was a hard taskmaster, requiring absolution.
“I didn’t know until Betty was dying. She wanted to clear her conscience. Once I knew, I should have said something. I should have toldyou, but what good would it have done by then? You’d already gone. I didn’t know you’d come back for her.”
