Love Me Forever

by Johanna Lindsey

  All the more reason he should be marrying for money, not making this sacrifice because she hadn’t had the will to prevent him from making love to her. Certainly, he was at fault there too, but she could have stopped him, should have, and didn’t. And he didn’t even know that marrying her would solve his problems after all. She hadn’t told him that yet, and at the moment, apparently didn’t need to.

  But she should still tell him. He was, as far as she could tell, being honest with her. However, her curiosity was aroused now.

  “It sounds as if you still need the dower, so how will you manage without it?”

  “Dinna fash yourself about that, darlin’. I’ll find the money that’s needed some other way. A rich wife was an easy solution. There are others.”

  He sounded so confident, she decided again not to mention her own wealth. Actually, she wanted to savor the feeling that he would be marrying her not for any monetary reason—not for the reason she would have preferred to be asked for either, but at least this did put her one worry to rest. She wasn’t being married only for her money.

  So she said, “Very well, then. If you truly want to do this, I’ll still marry you.”

  He smiled then, quite brilliantly. She caught her breath, feeling her stomach flip over. And then it seemed to leap right into her throat as he bridged the gap between them and slipped his arms around her.

  “I’ll tell your da today.”

  With him so close that his body was touching her in all pertinent places, it was almost impossible to concentrate on what he’d just said, and it was several moments before she got out, “Perhaps you should let me tell him. You’ll more than likely lose your temper in his presence again. He has that effect on people who don’t know him well.”

  “But—aye, mayhap you’re right. But I will be close by if you need me.”

  That warmed her. This tendency he was showing about protecting her, when they weren’t married yet. And then his lips were warming her even more, and although she’d guessed he was going to kiss her, was ready and waiting for him to, her senses were still jolted as they’d been each time previously. It was just so thrilling having his mouth on her, so incredibly thrilling…

  She didn’t hear the door open, but she did recognize the soft cadence of the Widow Marston’s voice. “Cecil, are you in here?” and then when she noticed the kissing couple, “Oh! I’m so sorry. I should’ve knocked…”

  Kimberly felt Lachlan go stiff just before he stepped away from her to face the intruder, but she assumed it was because they’d been interrupted. She had no idea it was because he’d also recognized the widow’s voice.

  But she gathered that much when he said in nearly the same ominous tone he’d used with her father last night, “Hello, stepmother.”

  Winnifred Marston gasped, took a step back, her hand going to her throat. She looked horrified, frightened, and sounded it too. “Lachlan, m’boy, I can explain.”

  “Can you now?”

  39

  Kimberly stared incredulously as her soon-to-be stepmother’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she crumpled to the floor in a dead faint. That, on top of just hearing that Winnifred Marston was also Lachlan’s stepmother…or had she misunderstood that? Yes, she must have. It would simply be too ironic if the same woman were to play the same role in both their lives.

  Beside her, Lachlan made a sound of disgust as he also stared at the woman now sprawled on the floor. The sound, however, brought Kimberly out of her bemusement.

  “Pick her up, Lachlan, and put her on the sofa, would you?” she suggested.

  “Nay, if I touch her, ’twill be wi’ my hands around her throat.”

  Kimberly was so startled by his response that she immediately made an exasperated sound herself. “Put her on the bloody sofa. You can save your neck-wringing until she’s conscious and can appreciate it.”

  She didn’t wait to see if he would follow her order. She stepped around Winnifred to get to the door to summon a footman for some smelling salts. When she turned back into the room, Lachlan was dumping the older woman off of his shoulder onto a rose and gold sofa, and none too gently.

  “Do remind me never to faint when you’re around,” she said dryly.

  Lachlan dusted off his hands as if they’d been made filthy by the chore, then glanced at her. “Nay, darlin’, you’d be carried like a wee bairn. But she’s no’ deserving o’ that care.”

  She came back to stand beside him. “Am I to understand that she’s the woman you were only just telling me about? The one who stole your inheritance?”

  “Aye. I dinna ken why she’s here, but she’ll no’ be disappearing on me this time.”

  Kimberly frowned. She could guess why Winnifred Marston was suddenly at Sherring Cross. She’d obviously come here with Cecil, and had probably been shown to a room last night so that she could retire, as late as it was, while they were still in the duke’s study. That would explain why they hadn’t seen her sooner.

  But this was still so—astonishing, she had to ask again, “She’s your stepmother?”

  “Aye.”

  “The Widow Marston is your stepmother?”

  He glowered at her now. “Aye and aye, and dinna make me repeat it again. I dinna care what she calls herself now, but she’s the same woman was married tae my da for twelve years, then snuck off in the dead o’ night no’ a week after he died, taking the MacGregor wealth wi’ her.”

  He was growing annoyed at her persistence, but she still found this too ironic by half. “You couldn’t be mistaken? Maybe she only closely resembles your stepmother?”

  He snorted. “She fainted at the sight o’ me. If there was ever any doubt o’ her guilt, there’s none now. But there wasna any tae begin wi’.”

  It was incredible. Kimberly had met and spoken with Winnifred Marston dozens of times socially, even before her mother died and her father became interested in the widow. She’d always seemed a nice enough sort, if a little self-centered.

  The widow was in her late forties, had brown hair untouched yet by grey, light brown eyes, and a slightly plump, though very curvacious figure. And she wasn’t very tall, certainly shorter than Cecil. She was a handsome woman for her age.

  Kimberly had actually never given the woman much thought. She knew that Winnifred had refused to marry Cecil until Kimberly was herself married and was gone from his house. But that was understandable.

  She knew many women who weren’t related by blood that had trouble sharing the same household. There were even some troubles among those who were related. It was a matter of each wanting ultimate control of a household, when only one could fill that position. And she’d certainly had no problem with that, since she wanted out of her father’s house as well.

  She also knew that the widow was quite wealthy. She’d bought the old Henry house, a really large home, when she’d moved to Northumberland several years before. She employed dozens of servants. She entertained lavishly and frequently. With stolen money?

  It was incredible. And her father, when he was told—good God, she couldn’t begin to guess what his reaction was going to be. Actually, he’d never believe it, not with a Scotsman as the accuser.

  She shook her head, still quite bemused. “I’m having a very hard time imagining Winnie as a thief, I really am.”

  “Winnie?” Lachlan said in surprise. “D’you know this woman, Kimber?”

  Had that somehow not been mentioned yet? “Actually, you’re going to find this—”

  “Who fainted?” Megan asked as she sailed into the room, the footman apparently having fetched her along with the smelling salts. And then seeing Winnifred on the sofa, “Ah, our newcomer, Lady—Marston, is it? Was she taken ill? Should I send for a doctor?”

  “I doubt a doctor will be needful,” Kimberly replied, giving Megan a slight smile. “She was merely done in by the sight of Lachlan.”

  Megan lifted a brow in Lachlan’s direction. “You have them swooning at your feet now, MacGregor
? Maybe you should start carrying the salts around with you?”

  He snorted. “She fainted in fear, and rightly so.”

  Megan’s brow lifted much higher at that. “Did she now? Well, you’ve such a frightening face, no wonder. Yes, that I can surely imagine.”

  Lachlan’s lips compressed in annoyance. Megan was sitting down on the edge of the sofa now, so that she could pass the smelling salts swiftly beneath Winnifred’s nose. It did the trick, the widow’s hand coming up to swipe at the offensive smell, then her eyes slowly blinked open.

  She was confused at first, and seeing only Megan before her, asked haltingly, “What—happened to me? Why am I lying down?”

  She stopped, her eyes suddenly widening in remembrance—and there was some definite alarm there too. She even gripped Megan’s arm to ask her next question, which came out in a frantic whisper.

  “Is he still here?”

  “Who?”

  “The MacGregor?”

  “Well—yes, actual—”

  The widow sat up immediately, in fact too quickly, causing her head to throb, and nearly knocking Megan onto the floor in the process. Winnifred groaned at the sharp pain she felt, but it was more important that she locate Lachlan. Doing so, she groaned again, even louder, and extended a beseeching hand toward him.

  “Lachlan, you must let me explain first—before you do anything that we’ll both regret.”

  “Both regret?” he replied coldly. “I assure you, lady, whatever I do, it will give me a great deal o’ pleasure—and you none a’tall.”

  “Please, can we at least discuss this in private?” Winnifred pleaded, glancing with embarrassment at Kimberly and Megan. “There’s no reason to disturb these ladies with a family matter.”

  “Family matter, is it?”

  It was apparent, at least to Kimberly, that Lachlan was too angry to honor the widow’s request. Nor did he care at the moment how embarrassed she might be. From his perspective, Kimberly certainly couldn’t blame him, but she still took pity on the woman.

  So she cleared her throat and gave a pointed look at Megan. “I haven’t had breakfast yet myself. Would you care to join me?”

  Megan sighed, but nodded. Once beyond the door, however, she confessed, “I know you’re right, m’dear, but I wouldn’t have left there for the world myself. I’m simply too curious. Do you know what that is all about?”

  “Yes, unfortunately,” Kimberly replied. “And I don’t believe Lachlan intends to keep it secret. Quite the contrary. When you have someone arrested, it’s rather impossible to keep it under wraps…”

  In the parlor, Winnifred was talking quickly. “I loved your father, Lachlan. You must know that. His dying was a shock, so unexpected. I was distraught and not thinking clearly—”

  “We were all o’ us distraught. If that’s the only excuse you have tae offer—”

  “I was also terrified.”

  “Of what?” he demanded.

  “Of being alone.”

  “Are you daft?” he asked in amazement. “Alone wi’ a whole castle full o’ folk around you?”

  “All MacGregor folk,” she reminded him.

  “Aye, and who else would be there but MacGregors? You were a MacGregor as well, or are you forgetting that?”

  “It’s not the same as being born a MacGregor,” Winnifred insisted.

  “How is it no’ the same? Did you think we would kick you out? Nay, you know better. You would always have had a home at Kregora.”

  “Without your father?” she said, shaking her head. “I’d never made friends there—”

  “Whose fault is that, lady?”

  “Mine, I know, but it was still a fact. Your father was my life and my protection. Without him—I had nothing.”

  “If you’re thinking that gave you the right tae steal my inheritance—” he growled.

  “No, no, I know I did wrong. And I did it without thinking, because I was so frightened of being alone again. Believe me, I’ve regretted it so often.”

  “Did you now?” he scoffed, adding, “You’ve had a number of years tae correct what you did, but I’ve yet tae see the MacGregor jewels returned, or the money.”

  She winced. “I know, but I convinced myself that I needed it more’n you did. You were young, after all. And you were a man, able to earn money in ways that I couldn’t.”

  “Aye, and mayhap that would’ve been no problem if there was only myself tae see about. But wi’ my da’s passing, it became my responsibility tae look after the clan, as well as the upkeep of Kregora. And how was I tae do that, when the college I attended was only a rounding off o’ my education? I wasna there tae learn a trade. Nor could any trade have supported the many mouths I have tae feed, much less make the repairs on that old castle.”

  Hearing that, she began to panic. “Lachlan, you have to understand! I grew up very poor. My father had been a wastrel and a gambler. My mother died when I was but a baby. There were times when I didn’t know if there would be food enough for another day. I couldn’t go back to how it was before. Your father had been my salvation. With him gone, I was desperate again, don’t you see?”

  “Nay, Winnifred, no matter how you look at it, no matter your reasons, you stole from me and no’ just from me, but from the clan. And I’ll be having it all back, every pound, every ring and necklace—”

  “The money’s gone.”

  Lachlan went very still. His eyes had flared. Considering the amount of money that was taken, and the amount of time that had passed…no, he couldn’t believe it. No one could spend that much money in only three years—unless they lived like a blasted king.

  All he could think to say to such an outlandish statement was, “Gone?” Actually, he shouted it.

  The widow was flinching. “I didn’t mean to spend it all, truly. I even hid in a small cottage in Bath for nearly a year, going nowhere, doing nothing. But I got so bored, you see. I needed to be around people again. So I decided to play the bountiful widow for a while—under another name, of course, and moved to Northumberland where I bought a house so that I could entertain properly. And I gambled a bit, not much, but—I’m not very good at it, any more than my father was—”

  “Enough!” he thundered. “Faith, but you’re talking about more’n a hundred thousand pounds, woman! You canna have spent all o’ that—”

  “I still have the jewels,” she quickly inserted. “At least most of them. I’ve only had to sell off a few of the pieces just recently. And there’s the house I bought. I’ll be glad to give it to you just as soon as I marry, and that will be very shortly now.”

  “Glad tae give me a house you bought wi’ my money?” he asked incredulously.

  He almost laughed. She didn’t even see the absurdity of her offer, or realize that every blasted thing she owned belonged to him. The woman was a twit, a frivolous, self-centered nitwit, and he’d never been around her long enough when she lived at Kregora to actually realize that before now.

  “I’m sure my fiancé won’t mind the loss of my house,” she went on to say. “He might even be persuaded to reimburse your funds for me. He’s such a dear man, after all, and quite rich. I’m sure he wouldn’t miss a few hundred pounds—”

  “Hundred thousand pounds, lady!”

  “Well, that too.”

  The door suddenly opened again, and Kimberly poked her head around it. “Do you realize you can be heard down the hall?”

  “They can hear me in the next blasted county for all I care,” Lachlan replied heatedly. “Do you ken the lady has squandered away more’n half my inheritance, Kimber? And she has the audacity to suggest her fiancé might replace a hundred thousand pounds of it!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” Kimberly replied calmly. “She’s engaged to marry my father, you see.”

  40

  “I think it’s rather funny, actually,” Megan remarked as she dismounted and turned her mare, Sir Ambrose, over to the waiting groom.

  That her horse was na
med after her husband, and before she’d ever met him, was—well, it was a long story. And Devlin certainly didn’t mind the name anymore, though at one time he had.

  They had just returned from a ride, where she had told him about the latest development in the MacGregor-Richards situation. Usually she rode in the early mornings, but if she wanted to ride with her husband, she had to make allowances for his busy schedule, and he’d been attending to business all morning—which was why he’d missed the newest scandal-in-the-making.

  “And just what do you find funny?” he asked, taking her arm to lead her back to the house. “That I owe the Highlander another apology?”

  “No, not that—” She stopped in surprise. “You do? What for?”

  “Because I didn’t believe that story of his, about his inheritance being stolen,” Devlin said sourly. “I thought it was just a good ruse on his part to gain him sympathy.”

  “Well, if he wasn’t aware that you thought that, then there’s no need to apologize to him.”

  “I feel there is. My assumption about him colored most of my thinking, you see. Had I accepted his story to begin with, I might have treated him differently, might not have jumped down his throat so quickly when the horses went missing, might not have—”

  “Oh, dear, you really are feeling are tad guilty, aren’t you?”

  He nodded curtly. “A tad.”

  “Then by all means…but you know, it certainly won’t change his mind about what he’s going to do.”

  “Which is?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea. I’m not so sure even MacGregor knows at this point. The Marston woman is such a silly scatterbrain, after all. It would be like punishing a child. But he’s set his kin to guarding her. She won’t be going anywhere until this is resolved.”

  “And what did the earl have to say about that?” Devlin asked as he resumed walking to the house.

  “I don’t believe he’s been told yet—at least no one got around to it before we left. That could have changed by now. Let’s hope so. It’s going to be a rather—loud—undertaking, I imagine.”