“And it didn’t pass me by that young Jamie mentioned havingyourbedchamber made ready.” She was getting in her stride now. “I suppose that means none of the guest rooms has bedding laid out, nor has seen the warmth of a fire for goodness knows how long.”
Right again.
Since Finlay had given up properly residing here himself, he’d hardly had call tothink about guests. Those rooms had been locked up since his father’s passing.
“’Tis no wonder your mother prefers staying with friends in Oban.”
Finlay felt the jab. ’Twas the one part of abandoning Dunrannoch that pierced his conscience. His mother had taken his father’s death hard, and ’twas only natural for her to seek a change of scene to restore her spirits. Indeed, he’d encouraged it. But he’d also done naught to encourage her back. Naturally, he’d assured her she was welcome to remain when he brought Margaret as the new countess. The two got along well, and the castle was large enough for privacy, but nothing had panned out the way he’d thought it would.
How could it, when the woman who’d vowed to stand beside him through all weathers had repudiated him the morning after their marriage?
Not that she hadn’t her reasons. Nevertheless…
What was he left with now?
A fortress of stone, colder than the sharpest winter wind—a place even his mother had abandoned.
“She turned over Dalreagh Press to me, before leaving. You know, do you?” Margaret eyed him beadily.
“Aye, she told me.” He approved of the decision. The enterprise had been theirs for generations, always with the understanding that it was passed down through the women of the family. It published a quaint little handbook and had been doing well with other titles since acquiring its own printing press over in Edinburgh.
“We’re currently revising the text forThe Lady’s Guide to All Things Usefulfor a whole new run, to appeal to the modern woman.” Margaret sat up a little straighter. “As well as taking on the rights to four novels by women authors.”
Finlay nodded. “You’re doing well, lass. I knew you would. And I know how satisfying it is, seeing a business flourish. We’re now producing our own heather teas and lotions and such, besides the original soaps.”
In a relatively short time, DunrannochFine Soaps had grown to a thriving concern, with their range extending far beyond the honey and heather bars they’d begun by selling. The moorland and hills across the Dunrannoch Estate provided perfect conditions for several varieties of heather, with very little intervention beyond being careful where the livestock grazed.
“I’ve seen the advertisements.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I never questioned your ability to make a go of things, only your methods of attaining funds.”
Her eyes flashed. ’Twas an argument they’d exhausted, and she was iron-set on believing the worst of him. In all honesty, he didn’t know how to go about remedying that. There was no denying he couldn’t have gotten as far as he had without the generous loan bestowed by Margaret’s brother—but the money had nothing to do with his decision to wed.
He’d started off by simply selling the harvested heather sprigs to one of the big Glasgow breweries for a seasonal ale, then to theyarn works for the dyeing process, but it had been Alastair’s funds which had enabled the establishment of his own business.
Margaret had it in her head that he’d only married her for the money her brother could provide, but that was nonsense. Besides which, he’d repaid the initial loan—and Alastair was now reaping the benefits of the longer-term arrangement.
Everyone was happy.
Except for the one person whose wellbeing he most sought.
“I suppose I can thankyoufor this predicament, stuck here for who knows how long.” Margaret was glowering at him again.
Even so, he could barely keep his eyes off her. It had been far too long since he’d been in her company, and here she was, looking like some faerie queen in that diaphanous bit of nothing, with her fox-red hair all wild and the flush of temper in her cheeks.
He’d hoped the supper would put her in a better mood, but it appeared not. Finlay decided it probably wasn’t the moment to mention that the piece of weaving she’dtucked round herself had last seen service as a dog bed. It would explain why Brucie was all over Magsie, near climbing upon her lap.
“Come now. You can’t blame me for that. I was abducted, the same as yourself,” Finlay protested.
“Ha!” Margaret continued glaring. “Even if ’tis true, the whole thing is likely some connivance brought on by whatever you’ve been saying to my brother. You’ve given him the notion that we might reconcile, and it’s resulted in this harebrained plot.”
She had a point. By the look of it, Alastair had been scheming for a while, and Ailsa with him—though the blizzard seemed opportune.
“They’re misguided, perhaps,” Finlay conceded, “but they only want the best for you. For us! They surely only want us to talk.”
“If we’re to talk of anything, ’twill be how we go about dissolving this farce of amarriage.” Her answer came quick as a shot. “I travelled to Balmore purely on the understanding you weren’t invited.”
Finlay winced. One thing about Margaret: she didn’t mince her words. Nonetheless, she was right. They’d both been played.
And I only came because I hoped youwouldbe there.
