“Peggy,” he said desperately, following her to the corner of the Chesterfield and clasping his hands around her shoulders as she clutched her shirt to her body. He willed her to listen to him, to understand. “That is not it at all. It is just—”
But before he could finish the sentence, the door flew open, and he turned Peggy around, pulling her to him to hide her from the new presence as he reached behind him to find the plaid and cover her shoulders with it, holding her against him.
Nothing, however, could hide the two of them from the man who filled the doorway, a thunderous expression on his face. Rory swallowed hard. He had faced many moments of reckoning in his life. Times when he thought he would go to prison, when he had been unsure of who he would have to fight to defend his honor or his coin. He had faced a wide variety of men, of various numbers and sizes.
But nothing could prepare him for this. As Duncan McDougall strode into the room, bearing down upon him where he held the man’s only daughter in his arms, Rory closed his eyes and prepared for the worst.
Chapter 14
“What have you done to my daughter?” Duncan thundered, and Rory felt a sudden loss of her presence as Peggy pushed herself away from Rory, holding the plaid tightly around her as she stood between him and her father. Her eyes had grown wide, and two bright splotches of red graced her cheeks.
“Father,” she said as calmly as she could, holding out the hand that wasn’t grasping desperately at the fabric. “Please don’t blame Rory. He—”
“Silence!”
“It’s all right, Peg,” Rory said, placing his hands on her waist and gently moving her aside to stand beside him. “Your father is right. I took liberties I never should have.”
“You sure as hell should not have!” Duncan roared, his face turning red, and all his blustering must have woken those sleeping nearby, for Jane came flying through the door, a wrapper pulled tightly around her as she came to a sudden halt at the scene in front of her.
“Duncan?” She exclaimed in astonishment when she saw her husband. Then she noticed the state of undress which Peggy and Rory found themselves in. “Oh, Peggy,” she said, her face becoming somewhat crestfallen.
“Jane,” Duncan’s voice softened somewhat as he turned to look at his wife — as it always did, though he clearly didn’t forget what he had walked in on. His face tightened somewhat, however, as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Jane,” he repeated, “what has been happening while you and our daughter have been here at Darfield?”
Jane turned to give her husband an admonishing glare.
“Pardon me, Duncan? You are aware that Peggy is twenty-two years old, and I do not follow her around as though she is a child?”
Duncan did appear somewhat chastened, but he didn’t change his expression when he looked at the pair before him.
“What are you even doing here?” Jane asked.
“Of everything occurring in this room, ye are most concerned about why yer husband is here?”
“It is a reasonable question, seeing that most are now abed.”
“I decided I was tired of going to bed without my wife,” he finally said, and Rory was shocked when he saw Duncan McDougall’s face turn just the slightest shade of red. “I decided earlier this afternoon to come to collect you, but then I got slightly waylaid on my way over. Anyway, I am much later than I had planned to be. If only I had been earlier, then none of this would ever have happened. As it is…”
He looked back and forth between Peggy and Rory, and a chill began to creep up Rory’s spine, one that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room, which had actually become quite heated.
“Whatever ye have done here with my daughter, Rory MacTavish, I expect you will make it right,” he said, holding a finger in the air toward Rory, and Rory swallowed hard.
“Duncan,” he said, holding up his hands and trying to maintain calm. “I know how this looks, trust me, I do. But nothing happened that needs to be… rectified, if ye understand what I am saying.”
“My daughter is standing here in a room with only a plaid covering the top half of her body, a situation that has clearly been directly caused by you, a man I should trust as our closest ally. I believe, Rory, that is a situation that must be rectified.”
“It’s 1887, Duncan. It’s not as though her honor is now in question,” Rory said with a bit of a snort, but it was the wrong thing to say, as Duncan’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, were that possible.
“Her honor? Her honor?” Duncan sputtered, and Jane stepped in front of him and put her hands on his chest.
“Duncan,” she said, trying to calm her husband. “’Tis late. Why don’t we all go to bed, get some sleep, and discuss this in the morning?”
Duncan said nothing, though the glare that remained trained on Rory said everything he didn’t put in words.
“Fine,” he finally muttered, likely only for Jane’s benefit. “Tomorrow.”
Jane came over and put her arm around Peggy, leading her out the door. Peggy stopped for a moment, turned around, and looked at Rory, her expression one of both regret –
at his words, he knew, and something else — perhaps an excitement over what had occurred between them. Then she walked out the door, leaving Rory to stagger back, take a seat, and wonder what the hell he had just inadvertently done.
* * *
Peggy woke with her stomach in turmoil, though she couldn’t quite remember why. She was upset, but also strangely… content. Which made no sense at all. She turned over again and again in the strange bed in an attempt to become comfortable, until she finally froze where she lay as it all came rushing back to her. Rory, the sitting room, and her father. She flung an arm over her eyes dramatically to block out the light as she considered whether it could all have been a dream. A dream or a nightmare, she wasn’t entirely sure.
For Rory had clearly desired her, that much was true. But was there anything more? Had she ruined their friendship, ruined her opportunity here at Darfield?
She was tempted to feign illness and remain in bed all day, but regardless of her own personal turmoil, there was work to be done and tasks to see to. The light was already peeking in through the curtains, meaning she was late to prepare for breakfast. With that thought, she leaped out of bed, the slight chill from the castle walls blanketing her skin, and hurriedly dressed in a simple linen shirt and kilted skirt, her usual wear. With a quick brush of her hair, she reluctantly tied it back with a ribbon away from her face.
As much as Peggy preferred her hair hanging long and free, she understood the need to keep it out of her way when she had work to do, and so she compromised by tying it back, for it was far too long and heavy to pile on top of her head.
She was in such a rush to hurry to the kitchens that she didn’t see the man in the corridor until she collided into him. She nearly fell down the stairs until a strong arm caught her from behind.
“Miss McDougall.”
She had hoped it was Rory, but alas, it was Brodie Fraser, who held tight despite the fact that she began to attempt to politely wriggle out of his grip.
“Mr. Fraser—”
“Brodie.”
“Brodie, then. Thank you for catching me and my apologies for rushing like that. Ye see I’m late and I—”
“Let go of her.”
The voice, strong, sure, and determined, came from the bottom of the staircase, but it seemed like mere seconds before Rory had ascended the steps and stood before the two of them.
“It’s all right, Rory,” she said, her face flaming when she saw him, remembering him not as he was now in his kilt and shirt, but rather how he had looked last night, his chest bare and shining in the candlelight. She had been surprised to see the ink upon his left arm. She couldn’t remember it from previous times she had seen him — it must have been a recent addition. She would have to ask him what it represented — if she could manage to speak of their time together. No matter, he had been
glorious, and whatever happened, she would never forget last night for the rest of her life. “I was running from upstairs to get down to breakfast and didn’t see Mr. Fraser. I would have fallen down the stairs had he not caught me.”
Rory looked over her shoulder at Brodie, as though he were carefully assessing him, and under his watchful eye, Brodie slowly yet reluctantly released her. No sooner had he let go then Peggy stepped forward and Rory held his arm out. Peggy looked up at him, shocked. He had never acted this way with her before, and she was surprised that he would begin now. Likely some sort of masculine cockfight between the pair of them, she thought with a roll of her eyes. She dismissed his arm but walked ahead of him instead. She appreciated the gesture, but she was no toy to be fought over by little boys. If Rory did want her — and truly want her for the woman she was and not simply due to his desire — then he could speak to her like a man, not show off with this bravado.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she bid farewell to the both of them then was off to see to her duties. Clearly, there would be more discussion required… but that would have to wait until later.
* * *
Later came that evening, after the supper dishes had been cleared away. Peggy sat looking quite uncomfortable on the very leather sofa in the same sitting room the two of them had been found on last night. If Rory could suggest anywhere else for this meeting, he certainly would have, but it was the only room in Darfield where they could have privacy away from the tourists, who would be leaving the next day.
But tomorrow would be too late for this conversation, particularly for Duncan McDougall. He sat now, arms crossed over his chest, looking very much a warrior of old. Rory swallowed hard. His own father had joined them, apparently having heard of the uproar, though certainly not from Rory. He stared hard at his son, a stare which Rory returned. It wasn’t the first time his father had been disappointed in him, but it wasn’t as though Niall had ever set much of an example. Rory and Kyla had hardly been old enough to care for themselves when Niall had begun to make his notorious trips down south. It was how Kyla had become so responsible, Rory had come to realize, as she was basically parenting him since her youth, though she was but a couple of years older than he.
And now Niall was passing judgment upon him once more. Rory shook his head.
“Well,” Jane said in her soft tone before any of the men could speak, clearly attempting to diffuse the situation. “Duncan, you called this… gathering because ye wanted to discuss the events of last evening. It was a rather unfortunate situation, to be sure, in which we all found ourselves. I am unsure, however, of what can be done now to change anything.”
“An unfortunate situation?” Duncan repeated. Despite the fact — or perhaps because Duncan had always been like a second father to him due to the amount of time Rory had spent at the McDougalls’ holding – Rory had far more trepidation at Duncan’s words, and the fact that the man was disappointed in him ran much deeper in his bones than his own father’s chagrin. “I believe my daughter’s loss of dignity is far more than an ‘unfortunate situation.’”
“Father, I would hardly call it a loss of dignity,” Peggy cut in, and Duncan silenced her with one look. Rory wondered if he could ever hold such power. But that typically came only with respect, which he knew he was sorely lacking.
“Now, son,” Duncan said to Rory, whose stomach burned slightly at the word as he looked up into Duncan’s disapproving stare. Did Duncan actually still see him as part of his family, or had his feelings toward him altered? It was hard to tell by the dour, unchanging look on his face. “You were found in a compromising position with my daughter. Do you have anything to say for yerself?”
“I do apologize, to begin,” Rory said, looking around the room, finding Peggy staring at him with a bit of sadness on her face. Why, he had no idea. He knew this must be even harder for her than it was for him, but it could be worse, could it not? He had certainly found himself in much more concerning situations, but he supposed Peggy typically pleased her parents instead of disappointing them. He was much more used to it.
Duncan sat waiting, and Rory drummed his fingers on his knees from where he sat in the hard-backed chair that had been brought in from the dining hall. And suddenly, for once in his life, he yearned for these people who now stared at him to be proud of him. He wanted Duncan to believe that he had done the right thing. He wished Jane would look at him once more with the affection she had always bestowed upon him. He desired Peggy’s look of adoration that she had once worn with such ease. And he wanted to prove his own father wrong, to show him that he could do the right thing, could take responsibility for his actions. He stood now, determined though impulsive, and spoke the words before he could become too fearful once again.
Rory crossed the room, stood in front of Peggy, and took in her wide eyes and astonished gasp as he went down on one knee in front of her.
“Peggy McDougall,” he said, his voice steady despite the trepidation inside of him, “Will you marry me?”
Chapter 15
Peggy could only stare at him. Did he truly just ask her to marry him? In front of their parents? For much of her life, she had wanted Rory MacTavish to ask for her hand in marriage. But not like this. Not forced into it because of their indiscretions. If her father had not walked in when he had, they would have continued on today like everything was just the same, for he had made it very clear that this wasn’t what he currently wished for. No, she would not force Rory MacTavish into marriage, for he would spend the rest of his life resenting her.
“Rory,” she said in a low voice, “perhaps we should speak alone.”
“Why?” he asked, confusion etched on his face. “Do ye not want to—”
“Peggy,” Duncan cut in, “the lad is doing right by you. Perhaps you should accept it and be done with it.”
“I will not enter into marriage because ye have forced it, Father!” she said angrily, and Rory pushed himself back up to take a seat beside her on the couch.
“I’ve not forced the lad,” Duncan retorted. “He chose to ask ye himself.”
“Because that’s what you wanted,” she said. “You never would have asked me otherwise, Rory, would you?”
“I—”
“’Tis not an altogether difficult question,” she said, crossing her arms over chest. “Would ye have or not?”
“Mayhap?”
That was enough for her. She snorted before standing and sailing out of the room, leaving them all in her wake. After shutting the door firmly behind her, she stood there for a moment in the corridor, unsure of what to do next. She would have to face them all again at some point, and what would she then say? How were she and Rory to go on now? She hurried down the hall, turning the corner and pausing for a moment to rest her head against the cool brick of the wall. Marry Rory MacTavish. Ah, if only it were under different circumstances.
“Peg?”
“What is it, Rory?” she asked with much more impatience than she meant. But she couldn’t help the frustration pouring out of her. For it was as though he was teasing her with his proposal of marriage — providing her what she had always wanted, and yet doing so in such circumstances that she didn’t know how she could possibly agree.
When he didn’t say anything, she pushed back from the wall and with one quick, agonizing look at him, turned, and continued down the hall, up toward her own bedchamber.
“Peggy,” he said with determination, and with his long strides, Rory quickly caught up to her. They reached her bedroom door and she pushed through it. She tried to shut the door on him, but he stopped it with his foot and entered behind her.
“You shouldn’t be in my bedchamber,” she said, whirling around to face him.
“There are many things I should not do, but I think we’re a bit past worrying about that,” he retorted, his hands on his hips, his expression stormy. “Now what’s the matter with you? Why are you storming off like that, leaving me there with my heart bared?�
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“Your heart?” she scoffed. “Rory, you canna propose marriage just because we… kissed. You don’t want to be married, and I will not spend my life with a man who would resent the fact that he was forced into marriage with a woman he did not want to be with.”
Rory crossed the room, taking her face in his large hands, and despite her anger, her heart began to beat rapidly.
“Peg,” he said, tilting his head. “I wouldn’t have asked ye if I didn’t want you.”
“You want me, sure,” she said, willing her traitorous heart to slow. “You want half the women ye meet. But marriage is something altogether different. I will not marry a man who does not love me. I will not be waiting around while he is off in other places, with other… women. It was kind of you to offer, but there is no need for anyone else to know of this, and both our reputations will remain— as they were.”
He lowered his hands to hers and silently led her over to sit on the bed. She took a seat, her body stiff with tension while he sat next to her, keeping her hands in his.
“I am sorry about my father,” she said, keeping her gaze down on her lap. “I will speak with him, and my mother can convince him that all will be well. This was all my fault anyway, for saying anything to you in the first place. It was foolish, and I apologize. Can we go back to how things were?”
“Is that what you want?” he asked, looking at her probingly, and she bit her lip. Of course it wasn’t.
She nodded.
“If those are your true wishes, Peggy, then I will take your refusal, understand it, and I would never want anything to come between us, as friends or… otherwise. But first, there are a few things I must say.” He paused, cleared his throat, and continued. “I hadn’t pictured myself getting married for quite some time, ’tis true. But when I think of the years to come, of sharing it with another person… if I am being perfectly honest, I cannot imagine spending it with anyone else but you.”
Peggy’s Love: The Victorian Highlanders Book 5 Page 10