“Aruj Agha promised to see they were taken care of, and as he has been appointed the new dey, according to my sources, I think we can both rest assured that they are safe,” the earl told his wife. Then his arms tightened about her again. “Do you know how much I love you, India?”
“But you do not trust me, my lord, and I do not know if I can forgive you that,” she said quietly.
“I will never mistrust you again,” he vowed, and, tipping her face up to his, he sealed his words with a kiss.
“Diarmid!” India suddenly cried, breaking away from her husband. “Diarmid will know where Rowan is, for it was he who took the baby away at my stepfather’s request.”
“Glenkirk would not harm the lad?”
“No,” India said firmly. “His only purpose in taking him was to make certain I appeared respectable to you. One reason I mentioned my first husband was that I hoped to gain your respect, and perhaps even your love eventually. Then I would have told you of the child, and asked to bring him here to raise with our other children. My mother swore she would learn where the child was hidden, and make certain Rowan was all right. I did not desert our son willingly, Deverall, and I did what I could to find him. At Glenkirk, however, it is very different from here in England. No one will oppose the duke. Their loyalty is strong. Many are bound by family ties of one sort or another. I did my best for Rowan, and now I long to hold him in my arms!”
“In the morning we will question Diarmid, madame,” he said. “Then we shall go north together to regain custody of our child,” he promised her, smiling for the first time.
“Send Diarmid ahead,” she told him. “They plan to go to Ireland this summer to seek a husband for Fortune. If we do not get word to them before they have gone, no one will help us. It is probably already too late, I fear.” And her eyes filled with tears again.
“Diarmid’s loyalty must be to Oxton now,” the earl said quietly. “He will tell us, and then we shall fetch our son ourselves, India. This I promise you, my beloved. We do not need Glenkirk’s permission. And I will always trust you from now on, my darling. Look what my foolishness has almost cost us both.”
“And my foolishness, too,” she admitted graciously. “We must make a memorial for Adrian. Poor boy. Had he not eloped with me he would still be alive today.”
“Had he not attempted to elope with you,” he corrected her, “we should have never found each other, and I should not have been so bedazzled by my love for you that I came across two seas to be reunited with you, my beautiful first wife.”
“Your beautiful only wife,” she said, laughing up at him. “You had best get used to me, Deverall Leigh, for you shall never have another wife!” Then Lady India Anne Lindley-Leigh kissed her husband passionately, and Deverall Leigh, earl of Oxton, knew that she spoke the absolute truth.
Epilogue
OXTON, SUMMER 1629
“I am forgiven then?” the duke of Glenkirk asked India.
“Deverall has convinced me it is the right thing to do, my lord,” she replied.
“But you are still angry at me,” he said. “I know you were born of Rowan Lindley’s seed, India, but I am the father who loved and raised you after his death. You and Fortune are every bit my daughter as any born to me. What I did was not out of unkindness, or cruelty. I did what I thought was best for my daughter. Please, poppet, it has been the worst year of my life believing you hated me, and would hate me forever.”
“If Deverall had not turned out to be the dey of El Sinut,” India said, “I might have lost Rowan. I cannot help but wonder what Rowan Lindley might have done in this situation. You did not trust me, my lord. Would he have? You did not listen. Would he have? I know it has turned out all right, but if Deverall had not been Caynan Reis . . .” she sighed.
“I know,” he replied, “but my grandson was safe, India. Flora More is a good woman, and took good care of Rowan.”
“It is true, she did,” the duchess of Glenkirk said, coming to stand by her husband’s side. “Besides, India, you were parted from your son but five and a half months, not five years. Deverall was Caynan, and you regained your child. Stop dwelling on what might have been, and be glad for what is,” her mother said sensibly.
The ice that had been encasing India’s heart suddenly cracked as she looked at her son toddling about the gardens, his nurse in pursuit. Rowan Leigh, the future earl of Oxton, was a sturdy little boy with his father’s dark hair and deep blue eyes. At seventeen months of age he was a happy little boy who would never have any memory of his few months in a highland cottage. Her mother was right. The worst hadn’t happened.
“Will you promise me never to doubt any of your children again, Papa?” India asked him.
“I swear it!” the duke of Glenkirk said fervently, kissing his daughter’s hand.
“I shall hold you to it when Fortune finally goes in search of a husband,” the countess of Oxton warned her father. The infant at her bosom murmured impatiently, and, laughing, India switched her daughter to her other breast. “Adrianna is such a little piglet,” she said, gazing adoringly down at her week-old daughter.
“And every bit as beautiful as her mama,” Deverall Leigh said, coming to stand by his wife’s side. Then he smiled at his mother-in-law. “I believe, Jasmine, that your granddaughter has your turquoise eyes, although I am told it is too soon for me to tell. Still, I see that unique shading in Adrianna’s eyes.” He touched his daughter’s tiny dark head with a gentle finger.
“Let us hope she leads a quieter life than we have led,” the duchess of Glenkirk said dryly.
“The great-great-granddaughter of Skye O’Malley?” James Leslie said with a chuckle. “I think not, madame. I think not! Adventure seems to be in the blood of this family’s women. Heaven only knows what hazards and risks this pretty wench will take when she is grown.”
“She might turn out to be like Great-aunt Willow,” India said. Then she saw the twinkle in her husband’s eyes, and, hearing the unrestrained laughter bubbling up in her parents’ throats, the countess of Oxton was forced to concur. “You are right, Papa. You are doubtlessly right. Not the great-great-granddaughter of Skye O’Malley!”
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Copyright © 1999 by Bertrice Small
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