Page 21 of The Highlander Who Protected Me

“I’m not judging you, lass, especially not for wanting to avoid marriage with Cringlewood, which I presume is the reason you’re hiding in this backwater. The man’s an intolerable ass. Why you let him come near you in the first place is the bloody mystery.”

Annoyed, she tried to yank her hand away. “It wasn’t really my choice.”

When his fingers tightened, she mentally cursed at her slip.

“Are you saying he forced himself on you?” he asked in a voice that had gone soft and rather terrifying.

Damn, damn, damn.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, finally able to extract her hand. Thelastthing she needed was a knight errant. Knowing Royal, he would ride straight to London and challenge Leonard to a duel. Then the cat would be truly out of the bag.

“Whatdidyou mean?”

“I . . . nothing.”

His incredulous gaze dropped to her belly. “Nothing?”

She bit her lip in frustration. Pregnancy had turned her brain to mush. “It was a misunderstanding. Between his lordship and me.”

“That is one hell of a misunderstanding.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one with the cannonball in my stomach.”

Royal shook his head, clearly perturbed. “If the marquess finds out about this . . .”

“I’ll be forced to marry him. Which is why he canneverfind out.”

He made a visible effort to collect himself. “Ainsley, I don’t wish to offend you—”

“Too late, I’m afraid,” she interrupted.

“And you know I’ll support you in any way I can,” he continued. “But Cringlewood is the father of your child. When he does find out you kept this from him—”

She jabbed a finger into his cravat. “You don’t know a blasted thing about it, Royal Kendrick. I donotwant that man anywhere near me, or my child. He’s utterly selfish and mean-spirited, and would make my life a misery. I refuse to marry him.”

Troubled, he searched her face. Ainsley’s heart all but lodged in her throat, praying he would accept her vague explanation.

He wrapped his hand around her finger. “I would never betray you, lass. I promise. Word of a Kendrick.”

Relief swept through her, leaving her feeling limp and washed out. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Then his gaze narrowed. “But if that bastard hurt you, he won’t get away with it. I won’t let him.”

She again yanked her hand away. “Leave it alone, Royal. Please.”

“Ainsley, I’m not—”

A thumping out in the hall interrupted them.

Thank God.

“Splendid. That must be Aunt Margaret,” Ainsley said with idiotic false cheer.

A moment later, her great-aunt stomped in, her polished walnut cane thudding emphatically on the floorboards. She stopped in the middle of the room, a startling sight in her extravagantly trimmed purple gown, matching turban, and glossily buckled heels that had ceased to be in style years ago. With her pince-nez firmly in place, she was the very picture of decrepit ferocity as she glowered at Royal.

Aunt Margaret did enjoy making an entrance.

“Ainsley, have you gone mad? Why are you receiving visitors in your state?”

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