Page 86 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
“Shall I tell you why I think you’re unhappy?” Clara said. “It’s because you’ve no wish to marry Shona McCallum. Are you in love with another? Someone of whom your father wouldn’t approve?”
“My da…oranyone.”
“I’dapprove,” Clara said. “We cannot help whom we love. All we can do is love them, even if we cannot love them openly.”
His expression hardened. “Are ye playing my brother false?”
She let out a laugh. “You thinkIlove another? Duncan, perhaps?”
He caught his breath, and she shook her head.
“No, James,” she said quietly. “It’s notIwho loves Duncan.” She held out her hand. “Like it or not, James, you’re my brother-in-law. I don’t want to see you unhappy. You don’t have to like me, but can we at least agree not to be enemies?”
He stared at her hand, his eyes glistening. Then he took it and sighed.
Footsteps approached, and he withdrew his hand.
“I’ll leave you in peace,” Clara said. “I was looking for Marsaili. Have you seen her?”
He shook his head.
“Murdo’s looking for you,” she said. “Your father wants you to dance with Miss McCallum. I won’t tell them I’ve seen you.” She approached the door.
“Clara,” he said softly.
“Yes?” she said, turning.
“I don’t see ye as my enemy.”
She nodded and exited the study, then collided with a solid form. Her gut twisted as she recognized her father-in-law.
“What are ye doing here?” he growled.
“Nothing, I—”
He pushed past her and opened the door.
“Thereye are, ye useless lad!” he said. “What are ye doing hiding in here like a sniveling wretch? Yer betrothed’s waiting for ye.”
“Yes, Da,” James mumbled.
The laird slapped him on the arm. “Less of yer lip,” he said. “Ye should be thanking me, finding ye a bride. If I left it up to ye, our line would die out.”
“Clara might have a son,” James said.
The laird wrinkled his nose at her. “How can ye be sure it’d be Murdo’s, given that she’s a—” He broke off into a fit of coughing, spittle misting the air, and his face turned a deep shade of red.
Serves you right—I hope you choke.
James’s eyes widened, and he glared at Clara.
Heavens!She’d spoken aloud.
The laird clung to James’s arm, and they returned to the great hall.
Clara followed, cursing herself. She might dislike the old man, but she had no right to wish him into the grave, no matter how much he loathed her. Better to have him live to see her children grow up as McTavishes, knowing that his family line was tainted with her blood.
She placed a hand over her belly. Mama said that she’d know when a baby came—when her courses stopped and her belly grew round. Would she love it as much as Mama loved her?
