The Highlander's Princess Bride

by Vanessa Kelly

  “Sir, what if someone walks in on us?” she protested in a weak voice.

  Mischief glinted in his eyes. “They’ve already done that, remember?”

  “Yes, and look what that led to.”

  “This.”

  He nuzzled the inside of her wrist, and she all but melted.

  “I have no quarrel with the result of that episode,” he added, keeping hold of her hand. “My only regret is that I was so drunk I fell asleep in the middle of it, which was ridiculous of me.”

  “Not as ridiculous as my position when Royal and the others walked in on us.”

  “Would that be lying on the floor underneath me?”

  When she tried to yank her hand away, he laughed. “Sorry, love, but I’m sure it wasn’t nearly as terrible as you think.”

  “Well, the parts before you fell asleep weren’t,” she admitted.

  “So why don’t we give it another go? I guarantee I won’t fall asleep this time.”

  She studied his easy smile, wishing she could say yes to him—to them. She longed to be back in his arms, exchanging more than a few stolen kisses. But so many doubts and worries still cautioned her to maintain a careful distance.

  A slight frown erased his smile. “Sweetheart, there’s no shame in taking a little pleasure in each other. After all, we’re to be married soon.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  He looked startled. “Of course. Why would you doubt it?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. It was time to be honest with him—at least about some things. “I have to doubt it, because I don’t know how you truly feel about me. Especially since I think . . .”

  “Yes?”

  She forced herself to say it. “Since I think you’re still in love with your wife.”

  It was a humiliating admission to make, even though she certainly honored his feelings in that regard. But part of her couldn’t shake the worry that Arnprior saw her as a convenient solution to managing his fractious family, a solution forced on him by circumstances and his own sense of duty—to her and to the Kendricks.

  When he let go of her hand and reached for his drink, Victoria’s heart sank. He took a healthy swallow before setting the glass aside.

  “You’re wrong,” he said. “I’m not in love with her anymore.”

  “But you were.”

  “Yes, passionately.” He threw her a veiled glance. “Do you really want to know more?”

  Not truly, but how could she agree to marry him without knowing how he felt? “I do.”

  He grimaced slightly. “Very well. My wife, Janet Lockhart, came from a well-regarded family with a modest estate near the Borders. We met when we were quite young. Her family also kept a town house in Glasgow and my stepmother became acquainted with Janet’s mother.” His mouth curled up in a rueful, almost embarrassed smile. “It’s not an exaggeration to say I fell in love with her almost instantly.”

  Victoria squashed an unseemly spurt of jealousy. “How young were you?”

  “Very. I was fifteen and she was thirteen. I suppose you could say we were childhood sweethearts.”

  “She was also instantly smitten?”

  “It took her a bit longer, but by the time she was out on the marriage mart, she was convinced I was the epitome of the romantic Highland laird—or laird-to-be, I should say.”

  Now she heard an edge of bitterness in his tone.

  “If she saw you in a kilt, I can understand why,” Victoria said matter-of-factly. “Highland garb seems expressly designed to lead impressionable young ladies astray.”

  A reluctant chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Since I thought her a veritable fairy princess, I suppose I was as foolish as she was.”

  “You were young.”

  “And foolish.”

  She poked him in the bicep. “Young people generally are so. I’m sure you were boringly ordinary in that respect.”

  His smile was wry. “Thank you for the reminder, Miss Knight.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, I take it she was very pretty?”

  “She was a grand beauty,” he said softly. “Janet had hair like spun gold and eyes the color of sapphires. She was a dainty lass too, petite and delicate. But she had a vivacious, laughing manner. She . . . she positively sparkled. Janet could weave a spell around most anyone, even perfect strangers.”

  In other words, just the exact opposite of Victoria, as Arnprior had to know better than anyone. “She sounds utterly charming,” she said, trying not to sound like an envious harpy.

  “Everyone thought so, including other men.” His tone was not approving.

  “That’s to be expected, given she was a great beauty.”

  He didn’t answer, instead staring moodily at the fire.

  “When did you marry?” she gently prodded.

  “Hmm? Oh, we wished to be married as soon as she turned eighteen, but my father was determined I finish university. He did not approve of Janet. I know he was hoping she would throw me over for someone else.”

  “Why didn’t he approve?”

  He lifted a negligent hand. “He believed Janet was a flighty, irresponsible girl who didn’t have the character to be a future Countess of Arnprior.”

  “That seems a harsh judgment of so young a lady.”

  “Our discussions on the matter were not pleasant, as you can imagine.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  His shrug seemed anything but casual. “I wore him down, but then Father died in a riding accident, which led to another delay. Janet became so impatient that I thought she would break our betrothal.”

  “But you were clearly doing your best.” Victoria would probably wait years if she knew Arnprior loved her that deeply.

  “Yes, but when Janet was frustrated, she became . . .” He paused, searching for the right phrase. “Emotionally volatile. I convinced myself that her behavior was due to her eagerness to be with me.” He threw her a sardonic look. “I was wrong.”

  “I’m sorry.” What else could she say?

  He nodded. “Eventually we married, much to the relief of Janet’s family. They thought me capable of controlling her more erratic impulses.”

  She frowned, unsure if she should continue to press him. It was becoming obvious that his marriage was not the idyllic relationship she’d assumed it to be.

  He glanced over at her and sighed. “My wife was unstable, Victoria.”

  “I see,” she said cautiously. “That must have been difficult.”

  “Eventually that was the case. But for the first year of our marriage, we were happy. I took Janet to London, and we then spent several months in Glasgow. She redecorated Kendrick House and became the most popular hostess in town, cutting a swath through society and charming everyone.” There was a fraught pause. “Especially the men.”

  Now she understood where his tale was going, and it made her heart ache for him.

  “But I couldn’t remain in Glasgow forever. My brothers needed me, as did the estate. We had to return to Kinglas. Unfortunately, she wound up hating everything about it.”

  For a young and clearly immature woman, the isolation must have been difficult. “I suppose she missed her family,” Victoria said, trying to be tactful.

  His laugh was harsh. “No, but she hated my family, especially Angus. They fought constantly.”

  “Well, he can be rather trying.”

  He threw her a veiled glance. “You seemed to manage him.”

  She shrugged. “I’m neither delicate nor overly sensitive, as you know.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  She tried not to wince, knowing he meant it as a compliment. “I take it she didn’t do well with your brothers, either.”

  “To be fair, she was kind to Kade, sharing her love of music with him. She and Logan rubbed on well together too. He can charm any woman, and God knows my wife wasn’t immune to charming men.”

  That sounded like another black mark against Logan Kendrick. “I’m sorr
y it was so difficult.”

  “Life is difficult, is it not?”

  “Too much, sometimes,” she replied softly.

  He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, like she did when she had a headache. “Forgive me for sounding so mawkish, Victoria. Our life together wasn’t always terrible. When Janet became pregnant with Cam, I brought her down to Glasgow. She was happy there, until our son was born. But then she fell into a profound melancholy. Though I had the best doctors treat her, they simply counseled patience and prescribed laudanum.”

  She grimaced. “Laudanum was probably not helpful in her situation.”

  He glanced at her in surprise. “You know women who suffered that condition?”

  “In one of my positions, the lady of the house suffered a similar ailment after the birth of her third child. It took several months for her to recover. Alcohol and laudanum drops only seemed to worsen her condition.”

  He pondered that for a few moments before continuing. “Janet’s spirits improved somewhat after I procured a wet nurse and took Cam back to Kinglas. Her doctors thought it best for her to remain in Glasgow, and she seemed genuinely happier for a while. She even began socializing again. After a time, I asked her to return to Kinglas, but she refused.”

  “And she didn’t mind being separated from her husband and baby?”

  He hesitated, as if searching for the right words again. “She loved Cam, but she believed it best that he remain with me at Kinglas. As for our relationship . . .”

  She reached over and took his hand, sure about what would come next. His fingers wrapped around hers, holding tight.

  “Eventually, rumors began to circulate that Janet was engaging in affairs. When I came down to Glasgow to confront her, she broke down and admitted they were true. She’d taken a lover.” He stared intently at the fire, as if to avoid her eye. “More than one, actually.”

  Even though she’d been expecting infidelity, Victoria was still shocked. She could feel the intensity of Arnprior’s pain and bewilderment. It seemed that all these years later his wife’s betrayal remained a devastating mystery.

  After a minute or so, she finally dared break the fraught silence. “What did you do?”

  He glanced down at their hands, as if surprised he was still holding on to her. “Oh. I forgave her, or at least tried to. She was genuinely distraught that she’d hurt me and distressed by her reckless conduct. When she begged me to give her another chance, I couldn’t say no.” He flashed her a rueful smile. “I never could.”

  “Because you’re a good man and you loved her.”

  “If I had said no earlier on, if I’d been more decisive with her, she might still be alive today. I might have been able to save her.”

  She frowned. “Your wife fell ill and died, did she not? How could that be your fault?”

  He finally met her gaze. “Janet killed herself. And the fault for that rests with me.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Arnprior released her hand, Victoria let it hang slack between them. All she could do was stare at him. He looked like he hated himself—and the world.

  “I . . . I don’t know what to say,” she said, struggling with disbelief, “except that your wife must have lost her reason. Surely she had no cause to take her own life.”

  “She was desperately unhappy. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize how unhappy. I thought she was simply angry with me because I insisted she move back to Kinglas if she wished to save our marriage. Staying in Glasgow was not an acceptable option.”

  “Indeed not,” she said gently.

  “Janet thought that I should trust her enough to let her remain at Kendrick House.” He sighed. “I truly wish I had let her do so, regardless of what might have happened.”

  He didn’t seem to realize he’d just contradicted his belief that he should have been more decisive with his wife. As far as Victoria was concerned, that confirmed he’d been dealing with an impossible situation.

  “What happened after you brought her back to Kinglas?” she asked.

  “Nothing, at first. She was happy to see Cam again, and we both made an effort to try to recover what we once had. But my blasted family didn’t make it easy. They were hurt by her betrayal of me and the Kendrick name.”

  “One can hardly blame them.”

  “No, but I should have realized the effect their disapproval would have on her sensitive nature. I should have done a better job of protecting her, especially from Angus.”

  Victoria knew how furious the old man would have been over the betrayal of his laird and grandson.

  “They fought, I’m guessing.”

  “Yes. Janet had been chafing at what she’d begun to refer to as her incarceration. It had been a particularly cold and dreary winter, and she’d been pressing me to let her return to Glasgow. Angus told her that her duty was to remain at Kinglas with her husband and child, and she should stop acting like a spoiled brat. Naturally, that started a tremendous row.”

  She winced, well able to imagine the dreadful scene. “That does sound like Angus.”

  “Indeed. When I refused to take her immediately to Glasgow, Janet accused me of not trusting her.” He grimaced. “At that point, I also lost my temper and told her that her past conduct made such trust all but impossible. That was when she claimed that if I’d loved her enough and been there for her, she wouldn’t have sought comfort with other men.”

  It took Victoria a moment to tamp down her anger toward the unfortunate woman. “That, sir, is utter nonsense. Your wife’s accusations point to the fact that her mind was sadly disordered. It was not a rational claim to make.”

  “In hindsight, I see that. At the time, I simply thought Janet was punishing me when she said she’d rather die than keep living at Kinglas.” He shook his head. “Not for a minute did I think she was serious, but that night she took an overdose of laudanum. Her maid didn’t realize she’d done so, and I . . . well, I wasn’t with her, so none of us knew what happened until it was too late.”

  Victoria had to swallow a few times before she could speak. “It was hardly your fault that you weren’t sharing her bedchamber, given the state of your relationship.”

  “I should have—”

  “No,” she said firmly. “You would never have left her if you thought she would do such a thing. Only a deeply troubled person would take so tragic a step, leaving behind a husband and a child who loved her.” When he didn’t say anything, she tugged on his hand. “You realize that, do you not?”

  His reluctant smile was more of a grimace. “My poor wife was indeed a deeply troubled soul. I will also say that it wasn’t even fully clear that she meant to kill herself. According to her maid, she’d grown reckless with her dosing. The physician was exceedingly sympathetic to our situation and recorded the death as an accidental overdose.”

  She breathed out a relieved sigh. “Thank God.”

  “It allowed us to give Janet a Christian burial. I was very grateful, especially for Cam’s sake.”

  “Poor little boy,” she said softly.

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a brief kiss to it before letting it go. She got the oddest sense that he was withdrawing from her.

  “Cam was upset, naturally, but he recovered quickly. Although she loved him, Janet never spent much time with him.”

  “That was a small blessing, I suppose.”

  “Yes, and with him to care for, I could not afford to wallow in grief. Until I lost him as well, of course, and then I wallowed and raged to my heart’s content.” He glanced at her, his mouth pulled into a bitter line. “I warned you that it wasn’t a pretty tale, Victoria.”

  “You did, and I’m grateful you trusted me enough to tell me,” she said quietly.

  “Of course I trust you.” He placed his hands on his thighs and frowned. “More than anyone I know, I’m beginning to think.”

  “Then please trust me when I say that you did all you could to help your wife. That is patently evi
dent.”

  He let out a skeptical snort and reached over to retrieve his glass. When he saw it was empty, he started to rise from his chair.

  “No,” Victoria said, jumping up. She planted a hand on his chest and pushed him back down. “No more whisky.”

  He scowled at her. “I don’t need your pity, lass. I need another drink.”

  “No,” she said, plucking the glass from his hand and putting it on the table.

  Before she could think better of it, she clambered awkwardly into his lap. When he shifted, clearly startled, she had to make a grab for his broad shoulders.

  “What are you doing, daft girl?” he said, clamping his arms around her waist. Even though he didn’t seem inclined to push her off, he scowled at her. “I already told you—I don’t need your pity.”

  “This isn’t pity.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I’m offering comfort, you thick-headed, stubborn Highlander.”

  He scoffed. “I’m not one of your pupils, Miss Knight. I don’t need you to pet me or jolly me out of my doldrums.”

  “No, but I do think you stand in need of a lecture.”

  “And you will deliver one, whether I wish it or not,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting in a reluctant smile.

  Still, sadness lurked in his gaze. She sensed how easy it would be for him to again retreat behind a somber façade. Arnprior had seemed much happier these last few weeks, despite Logan’s reappearance and the opening of old wounds. Victoria couldn’t bear the idea that her handsome laird would again let grief and guilt darken his spirits.

  She leaned in and kissed him on the tip of his nose, as he’d done to her a number of times over the last few weeks. When that gesture pulled up the other corner of his mouth in a full smile, it gave her the courage to proceed.

  “Lord Arnprior, let me just note that you are the kindest, most principled, and most decent man I have ever met.”

  “That’s not much of a lecture,” he said, moving one hand to caress along her spine.

  Victoria had to force herself to concentrate instead of lean into his strong hand. “That was just the introduction, sir. In addition to my prior comment, you are also stubborn, arrogant, and prone to an exaggerated sense of responsibility. I understand completely how difficult life has been for you and your family, and you have personally suffered more than any man should. But the tragedies that befell you were not your fault. You did the best you could to love and care for your entire family, and no rational person could ask more from you than that.”