Page 20 of Wed to the Highlander
“No,” Duncan replied. “I would’ve lost Angus’ fortune. The estate would’ve survived, but barely. After years of drought, flood, fires, and long-needed repairs, the coffers are nearly empty. The inheritance can restore what was lost and protect those who depend on us.”
“How did he amass this secret fortune?” she asked.
“Shipping and whiskey,” Duncan stated.
“Mostly shipping whiskey,” his brother quipped.
“Without anyone knowing? How is that possible?”
“’Twas easy for a selfish, greedy trickster,” Agnes snapped. “We scraped by for years while he hoarded his gold like a dragon.”
“He was eccentric,” Lachlan offered.
“He was a bloody bastard,” she hissed, “in more ways than one.”
“That is enough family intrigue and name-calling for one meal,” Duncan stated, putting an end to it.
Silence reigned as the kinsmen tucked into their dinner, except for Isla, who silently sipped her wine with an amused expression.
Maggie sat back, feeling the weight of the new information settle in. This wasn’t only a marriage. It was a mission to rescue Duncan’s birthright and survival for his people. And for her, it was a matrimonial trap.
“Why choose me as your savior?” Maggie asked quietly.
Duncan’s expression gentled. “We’ve discussed this. I married you not to meet a deadline, but because I wanted to secure the future. Of the clan, but more so for us. And I’d do it again. Even without the coin.”
The tension in the room dissipated slowly. Eating, laughter, and conversation resumed. Lachlan lifted his glass once more, this time to the fire. Agnes quit the table without another word. Isla’s smile never quite returned, and she also left the hall, minutes later.
Duncan squeezed her hand under the table then served himself another helping of venison before placing a generous portion of cured ham on her empty plate.
“Eat,” he urged. “Your brother threatened me with bodily harm if I did no’ take care of you.” That sounded like Andrew, even with his best friend, and she would wager he wasn’t kidding.
Without the two caustic women present, she managed to eat a slice of cured ham and two tasty bannocks.
Conversation buzzed around her in murmurs and Gaelic phrases Maggie couldn’t follow. Duncan leaned in occasionally to translate.
At one point, Maggie reached for her cup and noticed a small bundle of dried white heather wrapped with twine at its base. She lifted the bundle and caught a hint of thyme—earthy, old, and oddly familiar.
“’Tis a charm,” Duncan said quietly.
She looked up at him. “Did you put it there?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“It could be anyone. Folks here haven’t let go of the old ways. You’ll find charms, talismans, and potions abound. They’re harmless.”
Isla and Agnes weren’t welcoming her with open arms. She couldn’t imagine either of them giving her something for good. So what did it mean?
Fiona, watching her, smiled gently. “White heather is considered lucky. Someone is wishing ye well.”
That ruled out the two women, at least.
She tucked it into her pocket, unsure if discarding it would be testing the spirits or self-preservation.
Dinner continued. Toasts were made. Duncan answered questions about his travels, estate plans, and grazing rights.
Maggie sat, nodded, smiled, and endured.
