Page 16 of Beware A Wallflower's Wrath
“What if he hates me? Or never trusts me again?” Annis closed her eyes against the thought, dread twisting in her gut. “I canna lose him. He’s all I’ve got in this world.”
“Weel, thank ye verra much,” Aunt Sorcha grumbled.
“Ye ken what I mean, Aunt. He’s my only child.” Deep in her heart, she knew they were right. Finlay should be told the truth.
“Ye’ve raised him right, lass. He’ll be spittin’ mad, but he’ll forgive ye. There were reasons for what ye did, protecting both of ye from the gossipmongers.”
The carriage slowed and came to a stop.
“We’ve come to the Thistle Inn,” yelled Fin from above. “I’m as hungry as a hedgehog after winter.”
“We’ll talk more later,” her aunt said as they climbed out of the carriage.
Fin clambered down from the roof, Mac under his arm. The dog leapt to the ground and shook himself, then proceeded toward the livery. The owner knew Mac and allowed him to sleep in the stable.
The old stone building seemed to bid her a cheery welcome. It was the MacNaughton clan’s favorite stopover between Dunderave and Glasgow. The food was good, though the mattresses were sparsely stuffed, and the company was always jovial. She watched Fin speak with the man from the livery, arranging for their horses and coach to be put up for the night.
Was it better for him to know? He’d created such an indomitable force in the image of his father. At five, Fin had declared him a gentleman pirate, a privateer secretly working for the Crown. As he grew, the captain evolved into a fearless man who braved new lands on his ship, the only foe able to defeat him had been the sea. She hadn’t encouraged his imaginings, but she hadn’t discouraged them, either.
Would he prefer an English barrister because he was real? Or resent him, see him as a stranger who could never compete with the mighty captain?
Did she have to find out?
The familiar odor of smoke and stale sweat greeted their nostrils as they entered the inn. Local patrons and a few travelers sat at trestles or stood up by the bar. Centuries-old beams, blackened by smoke and time, crisscrossed above them with dried stalks of heather and purple sage hanging from them. The innkeeper claimed his wife put it up to cover the smell of burning food. Uncle Donald guided them to a table near the cold hearth, remnants of burnt peat still on the stone floor from the previous night. As they made their way across the room, he answered greetings and nodded to various customers. Her uncle was a popular man at home and in Glasgow and continued to make contacts wherever he went.
They ordered stew, cheese, and fresh bread with butter and jam. The ale arrived, cups for the ladies and bumpers for the men. Fin soon joined them, immediately reaching for a hunk of cheese.
“The horses are seen to, and Mac is settled in,” he said around a mouthful. “The carriage will be ready at seven unless ye want it earlier.”
“That’s fine. Thank ye, Son,” she said, patting his cheek.
A young girl walked by, pouring ale from a pitcher and sending sideways glances at Fin. She gave him a shy smile, which put a huge grin on his face. As he tipped his cup to take a drink, never taking his eyes off the barmaid, he dumped the contents down his front. He sputtered, turning red when his aunt tried to wipe off the ale with a cloth. The girl giggled and returned to the kitchen.
“Next time, keep yer eyes on the lass but yer mind on yer actions,” said Uncle with a wink.
Annis and Sorcha tried to hide their smiles but burst out laughing.
“What?” asked Fin, playing ignorant, his cheeks the color of a ripe apple in fall.
“Leave the lad alone,” chided Uncle Donald, unable to wipe his own smirk from his face.
Later that night, Annis sat down to write her grandmother a letter. She lived in Edinburgh and knew of the secret her granddaughter held. A wise and kind woman, her maternal grandmother had always given good advice without judgment or rancor.
Dearest Granny,
I am turning to you once again for advice. Once long ago, I wrote to you from Glasgow when I’d fallen in love. Rabbie had been my world, my reason for smiling, the joy of my life. When I knew I was with child, it was as if the last piece of the puzzle had clicked into place.
How wrong I had been. How naïve. But the young are always optimistic, are they not? But as I soon learned, it had not been a bairn, but the vow of wedlock which remained the missing piece—until two days ago.
When he had come to me that fateful morning almost fifteen years past, I was bursting with the promise of our future. But his face had quickly dashed all my foolish dreams. With his eyes swimming in regret, his mouth set firm to tell me the horrid news, I listened as he explained he must marry another. Forced by his family, he’d said, pleading with me to understand. Only an Englishman would cower to his father. A strong Scot would have stood by me.
Was I wrong not to tell Robert he was to be a father? It had been my only revenge, silent though it was. Regardless, I then followed your advice and returned to the Highlands to give birth. We told everyone I had married a man of the sea. Later, we lied once more to say Captain Porter had gone down with his ship. And my son has turned the memory of a dead seafaring father into a hero. An image that no man could live up to.
All this time, I’ve let my boy believe this fantasy. But now, the final piece to my puzzle has been found. Not behind a bed or under a table, but at my doorstep. That fickle man is free and wants to begin again. Shall I continue on this path of retribution and deny him? Deny my son a chance to know his father? My brain wants Rabbie to suffer as I did when he left. But my heart wants what is best for my boy.
Shall I give in to my traitorous soul and tell them both the secret that I’ve hidden for so long? I may find the sweetest happiness. Or I may lose both of the men who hold my heart.
Who could have foreseen such a circumstance when we devised this plan so long ago? Robert inherited some property in the Lowlands, and I fear he will use it as an excuse to stay near. I will need to make a decision in the next few weeks before I return to Glasgow. Please, Granny, help me.
