Page 43 of Eloping with the Laird
He stiffened beneath her, and a tremor passed through her. He was keeping something from her, but what? Was he growing sicker?
‘You need not shield me from anything, Rory. I am stronger than I look.’ She rested her chin on his chest, so she could almost see his face. He ran a hand through his hair and down his face.
‘’Tis your father.’
Her stomach churned, and she popped up on an elbow as alarm set her heart racing. ‘Is he ill?’ Perhaps her hasty departure had made his sickness worse.
He clutched her hand and propped himself up so he could meet her gaze. ‘He is not unwell; however, he is angry.’
‘At me?’
‘Nay. At me. I have whisked you away. He claims our union is not valid and plans to make such a case to the king.’
‘Then let him. The fool...’ she huffed out. ‘Iproposed to you. There is no cause for such a claim. And we have already made our union official, have we not?’
‘Aye,’ he whispered, his voice husky and low as he twirled a lock of her hair in his fingertips. ‘That we have. Several times now, which I have thoroughly enjoyed.’ He smiled and then his eyes lingered briefly over her body. Her flesh warmed from his gaze. He sighed and brought his focus back to her face. ‘Sadly, your word matters little in the eyes of the law. It shall be my word against his, and he has many powerful friends, as you well know, while I have equally few.’
She nibbled her lip, sat up, and clutched her legs and the covers over them to her chest. Just when things had become comfortable, her world was shifting once more beneath her feet.
He followed suit, pulling her back against him. ‘Do not worry yourself. Uncle and I are thinking upon a response even now.’
She sighed, turned in his arms, and met his gaze. ‘What is it he demands? My return?’
His gaze drifted from her and studied a landscape of the cliffs that hung to the left of her. His lips in a thin stoic line of resistance.
‘You will tell me.’
‘I don’t wish to hurt you. There is no need for you to involve yourself in it.’
‘I spent far too longnotasking andnotinvolving myself in matters, and it ended quite poorly for me if you remember. I refuse to become that woman again. You will tell me what he demands. I wish to know everything, no matter how ugly.’
‘He wishes financial recompense from me for stealing away your possibilities of marrying another with greater financial means.’
She scoffed. ‘Ewan must not have told him of the expansiveness of Blackmore. You have more than abundant financial means.’
Rory nodded. ‘Aye. I believe Ewandidtell his father of it and that is why this new demand has now surfaced. Prior to your brother’s visit, your father’s letters were mere vitriolic nonsense from a man unused to being ignored. Ravings he could not express in person.’
Foolish man.
‘I am embarrassed by his treatment of you. And of me. I am sorry.’ She picked at a corner of the blanket. Why was her father always making a mess of things?
He lifted her chin. ‘You need never apologise for others. You cannot control him, nor anyone else. He will do as he wishes. And I believe I will send him coin to cease his complaints. It matters not to me. You are all I care about.’
The buzz and flutter in her belly grew fat and full with desire and longing. She reached for him, kissed him deeply and pushed away the ugliness of the past as she settled happily into the present.
Chapter Nineteen
Another three weeks passed, and Rory found himself content. Dying but still content. How many men could say such? He and Moira were working diligently on begetting a McKenna heir, a joyful daily endeavour. She was a passionate woman who enjoyed his touch and trusted him. A feat he thought impossible on their wedding night. His gut tightened. He worried heartedly that he would muck it all up at any moment or die before he’d secured the heir he needed to sustain his bloodline. Each day his body grew weaker despite taking healthy doses of tonics and medicine, and soon he would be four and twenty. March was three months away, and according to the dreaded McKenna curse, he would be dead before then.
He watched Moira out in the distance with the hounds. He hadn’t planned on caring for her as he did, and he wondered if it was even fair to. He would be gone, and she would be here missing him. He sighed. Little could be done on either account. The wife he had hoped to one day beguile and seduce had done such to him instead. But he couldn’t complain, could he? At least he would die a happy man, and his wife seemed happy too. A far cry from the woman he had met in the tournament field months ago. There was not a cloud in the sky on this glorious bright December afternoon, but as with all things in the Highlands, the weather could change quickly and without warning.
Footfalls sounded down the hallway and Rory smiled. He’d recognise his uncle’s uneven gait anywhere. He rose from his chair and greeted him at the threshold of the door. His uncle patted him on the shoulder and then settled into the chair opposite the large desk where Rory sat in his study.
‘And what of your journey, Uncle? And the Camerons?’
His uncle paused. ‘I met with them. Cunning bastards are the same as always. Demanding the tunic you wear as well as your trews. They leave a man with nothing.’ He smirked and shook his head.
Rory leaned back in his chair. This wasn’t the news he’d hoped for. He forged ahead and asked anyway. ‘Have you assured an alliance with them? One that will keep you, Moira and the clan safe?’After I am gone.He could have added that, but he didn’t wish to. ‘I need some assurance that Bran Stewart and the Frasers will not exact their revenge on Moira and our clan. Despite the sizeable coin we gifted Bran, he still seems malcontent, and I would not put anything past the Frasers.’
