by Meara Platt
Most of the English he knew married for wealth or position instead of affection, which had never made sense to him. Very few unions had turned out to be nothing short of miserable, with both parties embarking on eventual affairs.
This wouldn’t be the case when he succeeded in making Damaris his wife.
He didn’t intend on becoming a cuckhold, but of course, he planned on keeping her plenty occupied in the bedchamber where she didn’t have the need to seek entertainment elsewhere.
He was quite looking forward to making more of those little bairns when her confident voice interrupted his fantasies.
“I can see you’re determined.” Her blue eyes flashed. “But so am I. While I don’t intend to keep you from being a part of this baby’s life, I have no plans to move to Scotland, nor become Lady Murray in the near future.”
Callum took a moment to weigh his options. If he continued to persist on marriage, he could very well push her away, when he wanted to do the opposite and draw her closer. So, according to his calculations, she was about five months along, so that gave him until September to get her to change her mind. Unfortunately, he couldn’t very well woo her from the Highlands, and his responsibility as laird to his tenants, couldn’t wait four months for his return, especially in the middle of harvest season.
Which meant he had no choice but to force her hand.
She wouldn’t like it, but maybe she would fall in love with his people and his land like he had. If nothing else, at least he would have the rest of his life to apologize for his actions.
Conceding this battle to her, he offered a deep bow. “Ye’re right, of course, Sassenach. Forgive me for being so bold. I fear it’s a habit o’ the Scots. Allow me t’ leave ye in peace.”
With her tempting mouth falling agape in surprise that she’d won him over so easily, Callum turned on his heel. What she didn’t see as he departed was the resolute set to his jaw.
He would finish his business at Alston Moor, and then make preparations to return to Castle O’Donough — with a brief stop at Gretna Green along the way.
Chapter Five
A week passed without a single word from Laird O’Donough or his entourage. While Damaris should be grateful that he’d taken her demand to heart to stop his incessant desire to see them wed just for the sake of the babe, she couldn’t help but feel as if she’d somehow been…deserted.
But no matter what Callum’s reasons were for staying away, each day the flutter in her mid-section became a little more pronounced. It was almost as if the child was just as anxious to see his father as she was, which was utterly ridiculous, of course. Like she would ever miss that overbearing Scottish presence!
But then there were times when she would be hanging laundry, or like today, as she sat looking out over the expanse near Hadrian’s Wall, when she would feel another slight twinge. She never imagined that she might actually enjoy being pregnant, but with each gentle reminder of the life steadily growing in her womb with each passing day, she started to become resigned to the idea of being a mother.
This realization also brought about a round of melancholy, for it meant that she would continue to be estranged from her parents, for she had no intention of giving this child up for someone else to raise while she returned to a shallow, material existence in London. If her stay in Haltwhistle had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t care for that glittering world of false brevity and gossip any longer. She had grown accustomed to a slower pace, and she enjoyed it.
Granted, there were times she yearned to travel and see more of the world, but once she gave birth, there was little chance of doing anything but trying to make ends meet. She just hoped she might be able to find gainful employment as a scandalously unwed, single parent. If nothing else, perhaps Gen might allow her to stay on and help at the inn.
If she admired anything about Callum, at least he was passionate about his role as a father. While Damaris didn’t intend to carry this baby for nine months, just to gracefully hand the child over to him where he would disappear into the wilds of Scotland, she didn’t intend to keep them apart either. Surely some sort of arrangement could be decided upon.
He might have proved that there was still...something between them, even if she’d let him believe otherwise, but she just couldn’t imagine joining him on a journey through life when they knew nothing about each other. As she’d pointed out numerous times, they were strangers. They needed time to court, to find out if they were compatible. If not, they could very well end up detesting each other years down the road because they had nothing in common. She just couldn’t take the chance that their poor child would suffer because they were continually at odds. And neither did she feel that she had to settle for anything less than love when she did accept someone’s hand in marriage, a man she would vow to honor until death.
More than once she’d thought back to Callum’s proposal, or rather, his demand. Twice he’d offered marriage, first when he’d taken her virginity, and then when he found out she was carrying his baby. Neither time had there been any sort of romantic assurances. Of course, she hadn’t expected some grand sentiment with flowers or a lavish heirloom ring, but if he had actually gotten down on one knee and asked her to be his wife with some sort of genuine interest, she might have actually considered it. At least then she would have known that he found her intriguing, instead of just some burden to be packed away and tossed in a moldy castle somewhere.
But perhaps his direct approach was simply because he was a Scotsman. Her mother had always claimed that they were barbarians and held no polite manners like the men of English society. Then again, when she compared Callum to Lord Dornville — well, really, there was none. At least Callum was handsome, if not lacking in charm, and his demeanor made her believe that he was kind, if not gruff at times.
But who knew what would happen once the vows were exchanged and she was his property in the eyes of the law?
Damaris shuddered as a breeze whipped through the valley. She hugged herself and looked out over the expanse of green land. A brief smile touched her lips as she recalled the day of the golf game. For a brief moment in time she had been truly happy and carefree, without the weight of the world on her shoulders. But she supposed nothing was ever meant to last.
“Do ye mind if I join ye?”
This time, the tremble that coursed through her body had nothing to do with her maudlin thoughts of the future, but rather the rumbling timbre of Callum’s voice behind her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as he sat down beside her, apparently taking her silence as an invitation.
For a moment, Damaris had to fight the urge to laugh. The picture they presented, with their legs dangling over the edge was almost too absurd. They might have been two young friends who had stopped to take a break from some innocent play, instead of adults who had important things to discuss.
Callum must have noticed her amusement, for he said, “What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking that we resembled two children.”
He laughed at that. “I dinna know why.” As he sobered, he said softly, “I certainly dinna look at ye as a young girl.”
Damaris’s cheeks warmed. It was the first time he’d actually flirted with her since they’d met and she found she rather…liked it.
“Can I kiss ye, Miss Honeywell?”
She turned to him, wishing that she hadn’t done so. In the fading light of the afternoon, his eyes almost twinkled. She yearned to lean forward and met him halfway, but when their lips were but a hairsbreadth apart, she couldn’t help asking, “Why?”
He backed off with a frown. “Are ye asking me if it’s wrong t’ desire a beautiful woman?”
“No, of course not, I—”
He reached out and grasped her chin. “Then shut up and kiss me, ye stubborn lass.”
Callum took her mouth in a kiss meant to invoke passion, and the moment her lips touched his, something instantly ignited inside of him. Each embrace became mo
re powerful than the one before, if such a thing was even possible. It made him almost regret the plans he’d already set into motion. However, if her response to him was any indication, it shouldn’t take much to persuade her that they were meant to be together.
If she ever talked to him again, that is.
When he finally pulled back, those gorgeous blue eyes opened slowly, and the awe he saw there convinced him even further that she would eventually come to realize that what he was going to do was right for both of them.
But first, he would try to charm her into agreeing.
“Come on a trip with me.”
She hesitated, the small line of sudden wariness above her brow making him yearn to kiss it away. “Where?”
Thankfully, Jamie had given him this idea. “I thought t’ take ye t’ see an official golf course in Scotland. Musselburgh Links is o’ the outskirts o’ Edinburgh, and they claim t’ be the oldest in the country.” He scratched his chin in apparent contemplation. “But then, there’s St. Andrews near the coast which claims the same, but it’s a bit larger and more crowded.” He shrugged. “I just thought ye might be interested.”
He held his breath as she tilted her head to the side, the lowering sun turning her hair from honey blond to a fiery gold as she looked back over the horizon. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Besides, I wouldn’t feel right leaving Gen with so much to do when she’s been so kind to me.”
Callum had been prepared for some reluctance. So he leaned toward her and braced an arm behind her on the wall. He looked out over the expanse and waved a hand to encompass it all. “Do ye ken that Castle O’Donough sits near the River Ness just a short distance from Inverness?” He lowered his voice. “At night, when all is still, ye can hear the quiet ripple o’ the water. In the distance, ye have the mountains with sheep and Highland cattle scattered over the countryside. There are miles and miles of land between the clans, but ye dinna feel isolated.”
She was silent for a moment. “It sounds lovely,” she whispered.
“I’ve no’ seen its equal — until now.”
“Callum—” He waited for her to say something else, but she merely slid down from the wall. Only when there was a respectable distance between them did she turn to him and say, “I have to go.”
He sighed. It would have been much easier if she had simply accepted his invitation. “I shouldna like t’ hear that, lass.” He raised his fingers to his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle, the signal for his compatriots to intercede.
Within seconds, four men on horseback surrounded Callum and Damaris. “Could ye no’ kiss some proper sense into her, brother?” Jamie teased.
Gavin lifted a dark brow. “Surely ye havena lost yer charm?”
As his brothers laughed at Callum’s expense, Damaris frowned. “What’s going on here?”
Jamie was the one who answered. “Nothing t’ worry aboot, lassie. Just the harmless retrieval o’ my future sister-in-law.”
“Your—?”
The moment understanding dawned on her expression, her blue eyes widened and even knowing the odds were against her, she took off running toward the village. Callum glared at his youngest brother who merely smirked, while he took off to capture his errant bride.
Callum caught up to her easily, but when he captured her left elbow, he hadn’t been prepared for the blow he received as she lifted her right hand and cracked her palm across his cheek. “Release me at once!” she demanded, her eyes sparking with anger, her cheeks high with color. Unfortunately, Callum couldn’t help picturing those eyes glowing for an entirely different reason…on that single night in London…
But since now wasn’t the time to give in to his desire, he forced it back down. “I ken that ye’re no’ pleased with the prospect of marrying me right now, but—”
“I thought you were a gentleman, not a scoundrel who would dare try to force my hand!” she interrupted forcefully, as she planted her feet on the ground.
He lifted his hand to scratch the stubble on his cheek. It still smarted where she’d struck him. “Ye forget that we’re no’ in a fancy London ballroom. I’m a Scotsman, no’ a saint and ye are coming with me t’ Gretna Green if I have t’ carry ye kicking and screaming the whole way.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then it’s going to be a rather long journey for you.”
“Is she giving ye a bit o’ trouble?” Samuel Solomon spoke up from where he sat on his horse, a wide grin in place as he observed the exchange.
“Looks t’ me like ye got yerself a spitfire,” Robert added with a chuckle.
At their ribbing, she turned her glare on the other men and snapped, “Are you going to sit there and let this — person—” She waved her hand to indicate Callum. “Abduct me?” She crossed her arms. “If so, you’re not the gallant men I thought you were.”
“Hey now,” Gavin said. “This is between ye and Callum. There’s no need t’ get personal by bringing us into yer lover’s spat.”
“Lover’s spat?” Damaris nearly shrieked. “Is that what you think this is? He’s mad! He’s talking about kidnapping me and forcing me to wed him!”
Her words must have finally caught their attention, for Gavin and Jamie looked at each other uncertainly, while the Solomon brothers shifted in their saddles. Jamie eyed Callum. “I dinna ken if I’m comfortable with this after all,” he murmured. “I dinna wish t’ have the law after me for the rest o’ my days.”
It was all Callum could do not to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “She willna call the magistrate—”
“I can and I most certainly will.” She spoke up .
Callum turned her toward him, causing her eyes to widen as he brought his face closer, only a few inches separating them. He didn’t want to scare her, only make her realize that he was serious. “Ye would go so far as t’ send the father o’ yer bairn t’ the gallows?”
This caused her to hesitate in her tirade. “Don’t be ridiculous…”
“And what exactly do ye think might happen should it become known that a barbarian Scot absconded with a helpless, English lass?” He snorted. “If ye dinna think ye’d be signing my death sentence then ye’re more naïve than I thought.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Look, I wouldna have a problem courting ye properly until ye get near ye’re laying in, but I need t’ get back t’ Castle O’Donough. Surely ye wouldna have me neglect my duties t’ my clan?” He paused, but when she didn’t immediately reply, he gave a crooked smile and took a gamble. “Besides, I’m no’ asking ye to share my bed, only my name for the sake o’ the bairn. Surely ye’re parents couldna find any fault in ye accepting the hand of a laird, if not a Scotsman?”
Damaris didn’t want to admit that Callum was right, but there was a measure of truth to his words. And if she was properly wed, then her son wouldn’t have the title of bastard and she wouldn’t be forced to struggle to put bread on the table. Instead, he would be following in the footsteps of this man who claimed to have property, wealth, and a title, however much the English might scorn it. And, in time, she might even be able to regain her parents’ approval.
Abruptly, all her fight departed, leaving her with a calm resignation. “You’re right.” She could tell she’d surprised him by the slight flash in his dark eyes, but before he could claim victory, she had to know one thing. “Growing up between London and our country estate, I spent more time with my nanny and my governess than I ever did with my parents. I was brought up to be a good girl, a perfect English rose, a debutante who would take London by storm during her first season. Through all the comportment and training, it didn’t even matter how well I could paint or do embroidery, or even how I held myself during the waltz. In the end, all I wanted was my parents’ love.” Her hand automatically went to her stomach. “I don’t want that sort of detached life for my child.”
“Life in Scotland is different from that in England, that I kin promise ye,” he said softly. After a moment, he added, “So do ye agree t’ my te
rms?”
She considered all the options available, and finally said, “Don’t you have a vicar at Inverness?”
He frowned. “What are ye saying?”
“I just…need some time,” she sighed. “This is all moving so fast. I have four months before this baby is born. I’ll agree to come to Castle O’Donough with you, but I will not agree to marry you right now, no matter how much you might try to browbeat me into doing so. Can’t you give me that, at least?”
She could see the indecision on his face as he considered her request, his honor warring with his determination. It was his brother, Gavin, who interceded. “The lass makes a sound request, my laird.”
“Indeed, she does,” Jamie agreed. “And it’s been a while since a wedding took place at the castle—”
“Very well,” Callum interjected. He held out a hand to Damaris. “I accept yer terms, Miss Honeywell.”
With a deep breath, knowing that there was no turning back, Damaris accepted his offering — and sealed her fate.
Chapter Six
Since preparations had already been made to depart, all Damaris had to do was give her cousin a teary farewell. All her clothes had been packed in trunks and sat waiting atop the rented carriage with her cousin’s reluctant assistance until she realized that Damaris was leaving of her own free will.
It was still odd to think how far her life had come in just a few short months. This child she carried within her womb had made all the difference in her future. She had already come so far, and now she was journeying even farther into the wilds of Scotland, into that untamed territory of the Highlands.
“I’ll miss you,” she told Gen sincerely.