Tempting the Laird

by Julia London

  “You’ll no’ ignore me!”

  Hamlin whipped around, startled by Glenna’s sudden appearance. Tears were streaming down her face. “Madam, go to your rooms,” he said sternly.

  “I’ll no’ go! I’ll no’ allow you to treat me so ill, Hamlin! What am I to do? Are you truly so heartless as to toss me aside when I carry a bairn?”

  Catriona gasped at the same moment Eula cried out, “No!”

  “Good Lord,” Norwood muttered.

  “For all that is holy, go,” Hamlin said again.

  But Glenna was a stubborn wench, and she didn’t move as much as a muscle. “I’ll no’ allow you to treat me ill.”

  “I beg your pardon, your grace,” Catriona said. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “May I take Miss Guinne from the room?” She was holding Eula’s hand, and Eula, the poor lass, was staring with horror at Glenna, her eyes full of unshed tears.

  “Please,” he said.

  She put her arm around Eula and walked calmly to the door. She stepped out into the hall with the lass, bent down and whispered something to her, gave her a hug and then sent her on.

  “We’ll call again,” Norwood said. He was almost to the door.

  “Please, my lord,” Hamlin said, holding up a hand. “Please stay.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Aye, stay,” Glenna said angrily. “I should have witness to his cruelty! I’ve nowhere to go, and he knows it. No one will take me, no’ with a child in my belly! No one will let me a room, and everyone will whisper! But if I stay with you, they will think it is your child. I’ve no family but you, Hamlin.”

  “I am no’ your family!” he roared at her. “You made certain of it!”

  “If I may?” Catriona asked, her voice high. She was nervous, Hamlin realized. Little wonder—Glenna looked like a madwoman.

  “Catriona, donna trouble yourself,” Hamlin said.

  “Catriona!” Glenna said. “Are you so familiar as to call this woman by her given name?”

  “I beg your pardon, Mrs. Graham,” Norwood said. “But that does not seem the most prudent battle you ought to engage in at present.”

  “I know a place for her,” Catriona blurted. “I know where she might go.”

  Hamlin stared at her. What was she talking about? “No,” he said. “This is a private matter, and you’ll no’ concern yourself—”

  “Kishorn Abbey,” she interrupted him.

  “Ha! A nunnery,” Glenna said petulantly.

  “’Tis no’ a nunnery,” Catriona said. Her voice was shaking, as if she found it difficult to speak. “It’s a place where women such as yourself are welcomed and cared for. A place you might seek comfort, aye?”

  “I donna need your comfort. I’ve never heard of this abbey and I’ll no’ go.”

  “And what, precisely, is your alternative?” Uncle Knox asked.

  Glenna opened her mouth as if she had an answer, but Glenna had no answers. She looked at Hamlin, as if she expected him to save her.

  Hamlin would not save her. He walked to where she was standing. He took her hand and held it in both of his. “Make no mistake, Glenna—I will forego a seat in the Lords without a bloody thought, aye? I will give up all of Blackthorn Hall if it comes to that. You canna threaten me and I will no’ take responsibility for your love child. You’ve been offered a place to go where you will be cared for. You can accept the kindness offered to you, or you can make your threats and suffer the consequences. You will leave Blackthorn Hall one way or another, but how you go is your choice.” He let go of her hand.

  Glenna’s bottom lip began to tremble. She suddenly buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

  Hamlin sighed and helped her to a settee. He turned to Catriona. “Thank you. You donna have to do this.”

  “All right, I’ll go,” Glenna said tearfully. “I’d walk to the ends of the earth to be away from here. And you,” she said, glaring at Hamlin. “How do I arrive at this...abbey?”

  Catriona’s face was pale. “I leave on the morrow. You may accompany me if you like.”

  “You?” Glenna began to sob again, bending over her lap. “I’ve been abandoned, and now I will be cast out for the sin of following my heart!”

  Catriona turned away from Glenna, to her uncle. “Shall we go, then?” she asked softly.

  Norwood nodded. Hamlin moved to escort them out, but Glenna said, “Hamlin? Are you truly so uncaring?”

  Glenna’s capacity for self-pity was astounding. “I cared for far too long, Glenna. You should thank the Lord I’ve no’ delivered you to the streets of Edinburra with your love child as your lover has done, aye?” He turned his back to her and walked Catriona and Norwood out.

  In the foyer, Norwood was collecting his hat and gloves while Catriona stood quietly by. She looked shocked. There was no hint of her effervescent smile, but instead, an expression of great sorrow.

  Hamlin hated that look. He hated more that he was responsible for her sorrow. “Catriona,” he said softly. “You need no’ do this, no’ for me.”

  “It is done,” she said wearily.

  “It is done,” Norwood agreed. “And really, what choice do you or your former wife have in the matter? Be grateful to my niece for her incomparable generosity and know that you will never know a better person.” Norwood didn’t wait for a reply but stalked out the front door.

  “I know,” Hamlin said. “God pity me, how I know.” His throat burned, his eyes burned. “You’ve done this for me, Catriona, but you’ve done too much.”

  She shook her head. A tear slid from the corner of her eye, and she swiped at it. “I’ve only done what Zelda did for many other women. Your... Mrs. Graham has no place to go.” She shifted her gaze to the open door, to the figure of her uncle on the drive, waiting for her.

  “I will spend my life making it up to you in earnest, aye?”

  “I donna ask you for anything, Hamlin.”

  “My God, Catriona...” He took her hand. “Look at me. Please. What will I do when you are far away from me?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “What will I do? I should go. My uncle is waiting.”

  He couldn’t let her go like this. He pulled her into his body and kissed her. She sagged against him for a moment, as if the weight of her disappointment was too much to bear. But in the next moment, she was gone. Disappeared. A morning vapor lifting with the sun and vanishing from his sight.

  He would never forget what she’d just done for him. She’d shown him the happiness he’d craved, and now she’d just saved him from a brewing scandal. And for that, he was handing her his former wife with a bastard child growing in her belly.

  He would never forgive himself for having done this to her.

  He would forever be in her debt.

  But he would not accept her help blindly and without consequence. She deserved better. She deserved everything. Hamlin didn’t know how in that moment, but he was determined that she would not regret him.

  He was determined that she would not forget him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  ON THE LONG trip to Balhaire, Catriona found herself wondering more than once what possibly had kept Hamlin from killing his former wife. Personally, she imagined it every day in a variety of ways and had settled on a push off the cliff over the cove at Balhaire as her favorite fantasy, only because she could imagine Glenna’s fine silk gown billowing out around her like wings that would not save her.

  It was easier to think about that than her broken heart, and fortunately for her, Glenna Guinne Graham was quite possibly the most miserable person Catriona had ever met in her life.

  It was easy to despise Glenna for what she’d done to ruin the last few days with Hamlin. It was even easier when Glenna complained about every single thing. The carriage was not to her liking. The inns where they stayed were not sui
table. The food was despicable. She couldn’t understand how anyone could travel without a maid. She refused to help with the slightest task and could not be counted on to carry even her portmanteau. When Catriona informed her that she’d have to share in the work at the abbey, Glenna had laughed gaily and said, “That’s absurd.”

  Moreover, the long hours spent in the coach together led to a lot of questions. Glenna was curious about the abbey, and after coaxing Catriona to tell her the story of how it came to be, and the women who lived there now, she scoffed at it, declared it untoward and passed judgment on the women who, like her, had found themselves in a predicament.

  “They are no’ unlike you,” Catriona pointed out, her rage scarcely contained.

  “Like me!” Glenna had said, alarmed. “I am a duchess,” she said, as if that somehow gave her license to infidelity and bastard children. “I’ve been cast out.”

  Catriona debated whether she ought to point out that she was no’ a duchess any longer and instead opted to ask a question that was burning in her. “Were you cast out, then?” she asked skeptically.

  Glenna shot her a look. “I donna know what you call it in the Highlands, but, aye, I’ve been cast out.”

  “Did you no’ cast yourself out?” Catriona pressed.

  “You donna know what I endured!” Glenna cried, and launched into a tirade of how she and Hamlin lacked compatibility, which, when she had exhausted herself and her reasoning, boiled down to the fact that Hamlin was too quiet and too fond of books or some such nonsense.

  But Charlie, well, there was a man for the ages. He was a fine physical specimen, Glenna noted with a wink for Catriona and a secret little smile that, if nothing else, kept her silent for several minutes as she looked out the window. “We were quite compatible,” she said, and her cheeks colored.

  Diah, it was enough to make a woman ill.

  Catriona never said much as Glenna ranted and spoke at length about her lover, her life and her many expectations. But on the last day of their journey, Glenna woke up in an irritable mood, and instead of talking as she did most days, she spent a good amount of time glaring at Catriona.

  At last, Catriona could bear it no more. “What?” she demanded. “Why do you stare at me in that way, then?”

  “You love him.”

  “Pardon?”

  “You love my husband,” Glenna said.

  Catriona sighed. She folded her arms across her middle. “I canna love your husband, madam, because you donna have a husband.”

  “Aye, all right, he’s no longer my husband, but I was married to him for eight interminable years, and you love him.”

  Catriona said nothing.

  Glenna suddenly smiled. “He’ll no’ marry you, if that’s what you think. You’ll no’ be a duchess.”

  Catriona laughed. “I never thought I would.”

  “Did you no’, perhaps just a wee bit, then? Well, he could never marry you, no’ with this abbey business, and him in the House of Lords. It would ruin him in Parliament, aye? Peers are no’ to associate with the wrong sorts of persons, are they.”

  “I’m the wrong sort of person, am I?” Catriona scoffed.

  “You’re a Highlander!” Glenna said, as if that was akin to a leper. “The English believe Highlanders to be wild animals.” She shrugged.

  Catriona smiled sardonically. “If you think to upset me, you’ll be sorely disappointed. There is naught you can say to me that’s no’ been said, or whispered, or implied.”

  Glenna looked surprised. “I didna mean to offend, Catriona, but to warn you.”

  Her words of “warning” were quite offensive.

  One late afternoon, they could finally see the tops of the towers at Balhaire rising up above the tree line. Catriona’s heart swelled with affection—she was happy to be home. She couldn’t wait to be in the great hall with her family and their dogs. Her heart had been wrenched in half, but if there was one place on this earth that could repair it, it was Balhaire. As they turned onto the road that would take them up the hill, Glenna wrinkled her nose. “It’s ghastly! It’s positively medieval. Are there knights inside? Will they pour burning oil on us from the battlements as we cross the bridge?” She shuddered. “I donna know how people live in such heaps of stone.”

  Catriona turned her attention from her home to Glenna. “Mi Diah, why are you so bloody horrid?”

  “Horrid!” Glenna exclaimed. “I donna think I’m horrid. I’m honest. Frankly, I wish there were more like me.”

  “Well, I am verra thankful there are no’ more like you,” Catriona said.

  As soon as the carriage rolled to a halt, she flung open the door and leapt out before any groom could arrive, and began striding for the entrance to the main keep.

  Frang, their longtime butler, was at the door and greeted her, “Fàilte, Miss Catriona!”

  “Thank you, Frang,” she said impatiently, and slipped past him with a squeeze to his arm, then ran to the great hall.

  It was empty, the hearth cold. She whirled about, almost colliding with Frang. “Where are they, then? Where is my family?”

  “In your father’s study.”

  She ran down the narrow corridor, spilling into her father’s study so suddenly that her mother cried out in alarm. “Cat, darling!” She threw her arms around her daughter.

  Catriona buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. She heard the clump of her father’s cane, and the heavy drag of his bad leg. A moment later, she felt his arms around her, too. “We are so grateful to have you home, lass,” he said.

  “I’m so grateful to be home,” she said, her voice shaking with emotion. “I’ve never been so happy to be at Balhaire.”

  “Darling,” her mother said, and cupped Catriona’s face, forcing her to look at her. “What’s wrong?”

  Catriona shook her head. Everything. Everything about my life is wrong. “It’s been a hard journey, aye?”

  “I beg your pardon, is there no one to greet me?”

  Catriona closed her eyes with a groan. Glenna had followed her to the study and walked inside, looking around her. “No’ a servant or anyone to see after me?” she said accusingly.

  Catriona’s parents gaped at Glenna.

  Glenna didn’t seem to notice. She clucked her tongue at Catriona. “How rude of you no’ to make a proper introduction, Catriona. I’m Lady Montrose.”

  “You are the former Lady Montrose,” Catriona said wearily.

  “Why do you look so bereaved?” Glenna asked. “I’m the one who’s suffered. Will no one offer me a glass of water? Or to sit? My back is aching after that wretched ride.”

  Catriona’s parents turned their confused gazes to her.

  Catriona wanted to explain. But as Glenna made her way to the settee and sat, Catriona found herself incapable of speech. Tears welled in her eyes, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep them at bay. She said, “It’s been a verra long journey.”

  * * *

  CATRIONA’S MOTHER WAS a masterful hostess. She saw immediately that Catriona was distressed and took matters into her hands. She escorted Glenna to a guest room and sent a meal up to her. She was also provided a companion with whom she could speak freely and for as long as she liked—the maid Fiona Garrison, a lass who was near to deaf and was content to work on her embroidery as Glenna nattered on with her complaints.

  For Catriona, her mother had a bath drawn. When Catriona had bathed, and her hair had been put up, and she’d dressed in a clean gown, she came down to the great hall, where her family was waiting for her, all of them eager to greet her and hear her news. It was the salve she needed—she felt loved.

  Her brother Cailean and his wife, Daisy, were at Balhaire, and Cailean hugged her tightly to him. “I’m glad to see you home, where you belong, aye?” he said.

  Catriona didn’t know if she belonged here or not.
She didn’t know where she belonged.

  Her brothers Aulay and Rabbie teased her about the amount of sun she’d had this summer, theorizing she’d spent more time racing about on horseback than anything else. Her nieces and nephews were there, too, all eager to know if Uncle Knox had sent them anything. Of course he had—they all received a crown.

  Vivienne was very relieved to see her. “You’d no’ believe all that you’ve missed,” her sister confided as some of the clan members began to filter into the great hall. “There has been quite the scandal in my husband’s family—”

  Catriona didn’t hear what the scandal might have been because one of the clansmen grabbed her up and whirled her around in a big bear hug. “Aye, we’ve missed you, lass, that we have,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

  More people came to greet her, and soon the ale was flowing freely, and the smell of roast pork made her stomach growl.

  Over supper, Catriona filled her family in as best she could about what had happened with the Lord Advocate, which, she quickly learned, they already knew, as Uncle Knox had sent a letter ahead of her to her father.

  Catriona couldn’t help but wonder what else Uncle Knox had told them. But if they knew about Hamlin, none of them said a word, and for that, Catriona was very thankful. She wasn’t ready to speak about him. She couldn’t speak about him, not without the risk of falling to pieces. Eventually, when the time was right, she would tell her mother and sister. But tonight, the only thing that mattered was being with her family again, feeling safe and loved and cherished.

  Even Glenna couldn’t ruin Catriona’s homecoming. She appeared in the great hall before the meal was served, complaining that no one had told her to come down. She was miffed that she was not invited to dine on the dais with the family, and instead was made to sit with her deaf companion. Lottie, Aulay’s wife, took pity on her and sat with her for a time. But even Lottie, who had the tolerance of Job, returned to the dais, her eyes wide. “She’s wretched,” she said, her voice full of wonder.

  “Donna fear,” Catriona said. “She’s to the abbey at morning’s first light.”