Page 87 of The Make-Believe Marriage
Come to think of it, he was a Campbell, too.
Obviously, the MacGregors and the Campbells had sailed to Spain and stolen those sheep. Whether they had done so together or each clan on their own, Octavian had no idea.
Laird Armstrong’s son now stepped forward to address Lady Campbell. “I’ll buy those sheep from ye.”
She arched a silver eyebrow. “And why would I ever sell them to ye, Angus?”
“Because they are not for me or those in the Armstrong clan. They are for Mrs. Thorne.”
Syd gasped. “For me?”
He nodded. “Aye, by way of apology for my behavior toward you. Despite my rudeness, ye still found it in yer heart to help us. Ye could have demanded yer husband not help us, but ye went out of yer way to support our clan. Yer husband told my father of yer attempts to acquire those merino sheep for us.”
“But I didn’t succeed,” she said with notable disappointment.
“Ye tried with all yer heart.”
She nodded. “I did, and you know how persistent I can be.”
The laird’s son laughed. “Och, aye. Painfully aware.”
Lady Campbell cleared her throat. “I will not give ye the sheep, Angus. However, I will give them to Mrs. Thorne as reward for protecting my granddaughter.” She turned to Syd. “They are yers to do with as ye wish.”
Octavian could not suppress his smile.
Syd had gotten her merino sheep.
Of course, she had.
Was there ever a doubt that she would somehow work this miracle? Which now meant the Armstrongs would get their woolen industry underway because she was going to turn them over to Laird Armstrong.
Which she did when the laird arrived a few moments later and was told all that had transpired. “Ye mean my son was not the instigator?”
“Father! How can ye think that of me? No, I saw Mrs. Thorne and her husband were in trouble and rushed over to help them.”
“Is that true?” he asked Syd instead of Octavian, but Octavian was not insulted. He knew the man wanted an honest answer, not a tactful one which he would have given.
“Yes, it is true,” Syd said, then turned to his son. “Although you could have assured the MacGregors that Captain Thorne and I were married. Even if it was a nothing of a ceremony, it was still legal under Scottish law.”
The laird’s son raked a hand through his mass of unruly curls. “Aye, Mrs. Thorne. Ye are right. Perhaps I did make light of yer wedding. But ye must admit, it is an amusing thing to watch ye English in a mad race over the Scottish border to marry in haste.”
“It is not what I would have chosen,” she answered softly, her pain evident to Octavian because he understood how traditional Syd was in such things. “But I could not allow my father to give me away to anyone else.”
“Och, I dinna blame ye. He’s proven to be a fine man,” the laird’s son admitted. “And ye’ve proven to be a fine lass. I apologize for callin’ ye an Armstrong witch. In truth, ye’ve proved to be our angel.”
His father beamed with pride. “That’s the truth, son.”
Octavian nodded in agreement. Perhaps there was hope for Angus to become a good laird when his father passed on. Of course, it was too soon to tell. That he recognized his fault was promising, but a hot temper was not an easy thing to overcome and would require more work on his part.
But this was a matter for the Armstrong clan to sort out.
There was one thing Octavian needed to do before they left the town of Melrose.
As the Armstrongs, MacGregors, and Campbells were about to leave, Octavian asked them all to remain a moment longer. He bent on one knee in front of Syd. “Will you marry me again? Properly, this time. With words of love exchanged in front of an alter instead of an anvil?”
“Are you serious?” She sank onto her knees in front of him and searched his expression.
“Lass, he’s awaiting yer answer,” Lady Campbell called out.
