Thorn in My Heart

by Liz Curtis Higgs

  “Nae!He is not my…” She could not even say the word. “Please, you must not think that of me or of my cousin.”

  Fergus ignored her, shaking his fists over his head in a fit of exasperation. “What…what sort of example would you set for my children?”

  Before she could answer, he threw his napkin to the ground. “I will not have it!” His voice was at a fever pitch. “I'll not have you, Miss McBride. I withdraw my offer of marriage. You have been unfaithful to me before our vows were even spoken.” The laird of Nethercarse spun on his heel and addressed her father, who'd waited through it all with a chilling lack of response. “My factor will see my silver returned without delay. Good day to you, sir.”

  Fergus marched toward the stables. The silence in his wake was thunderous.

  When Leana tried to speak, Lachlan lifted his hand to quell her, then hissed through clenched teeth, “Silence!”

  She had never in her twenty years seen her father so livid. Behind her, Jamie whispered, “Shall I stay?”

  Her father answered for her, his voice low and even. “You shall not, Nephew. None of this concerns you. Leana, you will follow me.”

  The warmth of Jamie's presence faded as she moved away from him and hurried after her father, whose belligerent stride carried him swiftly across the lawn, through the house, and into the spence.

  He paced around the small room, clenching his hands, then releasing them, not even looking in her direction. The minutes dragged on while she locked her knees to keep from crumpling to the floor. Finally her father stood before her, his face a stone fortress. Gray, menacing, grim.

  “Do you ken what your careless behavior has cost me, Leana?”

  She did not know, not fully. He'd never shared the terms of his arrangement with Fergus McDougal. She offered the safest response she could think of. “Too much.”

  “Aye, a good deal too much.” He splayed the fingers of his left hand and counted his losses for her. “Silver coin and black catde. The friendship of a fellow landowner. The respect of my servants. The regard of our neighbors most of all.”

  Her father's temper could not always be explained. But this time she understood. “You have every reason to be furious with me, Father.”

  “Be sure of it, I am.” His voice was low, but the intensity of it made her tremble. “You! My bowsome, obedient daughter. I might have expected such shameless behavior from your sister. But never from you, Leana.” He gripped her shoulders, shaking her slighdy, forcing her to meet his hard gaze. “You, who favor your mother in so many ways, God rest her soul. Agness McBride would ne'er have treated me so ill.”

  He'd cut her to the quick. “I'm sorry, Father.”

  “As well you should be.” He dropped his hands, his gaze shifting to the window that faced the road to Newabbey. “Before the sun sets, the whole parish will be blethering about Lachlan's daughter being put aside for…improprieties.”

  “Oh, Father.” A tear slipped out. Without meaning to, she'd put in motion a dreadful turn of events. “What…what will become of me?”

  He shook his head, his back still toward her. “I cannot say. But I fear you will not like it.”

  “You do know, Father, that nothing…that Jamie…”

  “Aye.” He grunted. “Its clear where his affections lie, and they are not with you.”

  She shuddered at the truth spoken so coldly.

  “Jamie is a foolish young man with much to learn.” He sighed, his frustration clear. “As long as he is under my roof, the burden of teaching him falls on my shoulders.”

  Leana sank into a chair. And what lessons had she learned that bitter morning? That her eyes were weak, but her heart was blind, seeing only what it wanted to see. That desire and duty were two very different things. And that a single careless action could ruin everything. Not everything, Leana. You. It was true; she was ruined. Her body was still pure, but her reputation would soon be soiled by Fergus McDougal.

  God, help me.

  All at once she saw what she must do. She reached for her father's hand as a drowning woman grasps at reeds. “Father,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers, “will you help me?”

  Perhaps the strain in her voice caught his ear. When he turned to look at her once more, his stony features softened ever so slightly. “Now, now, Leana. After a time the gossips will find another morsel to chew on.”

  “And in the meantime?”

  “In the meantime, lass, you will quiedy go about your days and do as I ask, knowing I have your best interests in mind. Aye?”

  “Aye,” she agreed, though she feared he had only his interests in mind. Still, the dreadful possibility of marriage to Fergus McDougal was no more. If she could not have Jamie, at least she would not have Fergus.

  “ ‘Tis my responsibility, Leana, to see that you're wed. I'll not shirk my duties. When the time comes, see that you don't shirk yours.”

  “Choose whom you will to woo me, Father.” She blinked away a stray tear and offered a tentative smile. “I'll not disappoint you again.”

  Dismissed with an abrupt gesture, Leana released his hand and headed for her room, anxious to be alone with her thoughts. Neda met her at the landing, her face covered with concern. “Rose is off helpin Duncan with the sheep. She bade me give ye this.” Neda pressed a paper into her hands, then hastened down the stair.

  Leana waited until she was safely curled up in her reading chair before unfolding the sealed note. Penned in Rose's flowery handwriting, it contained four brief phrases: “You have not said, ‘I do.’ Nor have I. All is not lost. Wait and see.”

  Thirty-One

  In Heavens happy bowers

  There blossom two flowers;

  One with fiery glow

  And one as white as snow;

  While lo! before them stands,

  With pale and trembling hands,

  A spirit who must choose

  One, and one refuse.

  RICHARD WATSON GILDER

  The thought of wooing a woman made Jamie's mouth go dry and his hands turn as cold as the rushing waters of Buchan Burn.

  He had danced with women, shared formal dinners and sunlit walks across the moors with them, stolen kisses from them. Ladies noticed him more often than he paid attention to them, so wooing and winning a woman had never been a tickler. Until now, until Rose McBride, whose innocence required that he be the one to risk all and make his intentions clear.

  He thought he'd made them abundandy clear, but her actions piped another tune. If anything, Leana had been more attentive than Rose, without any encouragement from him. Aye, he'd gone to look for Leana in the orchard—someone had to—and had offered his support when her father and her betrothed did their best to destroy her. An ugly scene. It had ended badly, especially for his cousin. His uncle would have a devil of a time finding someone to marry her if the gossips had their way.

  But that was Lachlans concern, not his.

  It was Rose he intended to marry and Rose's heart that must be wooed.

  If only his mother were at Auchengray. Rowena McKie would have known the ideal spot, the right word, the proper touch. With his mothers guidance, Rose would be won in an afternoon. “A rich mans wooing is seldom long o’ doing,” his mother had once told him. Longer than a week, it seemed. However many days or weeks it took, he had no doubt he would succeed.

  Sensing a servants quiet presence in the room, Jamie glanced over his shoulder to find Hugh, his uncles valet of many years, waiting patiendy in the doorway. “Come, man, do something with this unruly hair of mine. Perhaps a fresh shave would be in order.”

  “Aye, sir. Yer beard's a stubborn one. If ye ve wooin in mind, ye best have a smooth cheek.”

  Jamie merely nodded. No point pretending things were otherwise. As at Glentrool, the servants at Auchengray missed nary an intrigue beneath their laird's roof. He removed his waistcoat, cravat, and shirt, then seated himself at Rose's feminine dressing table, feeling slighdy ridiculous. “Get on with it, man. I have muc
h to accomplish.”

  “Aye.” Hugh had come prepared. Emptying his pockets, then making use of the pitcher of hot water he'd brought with him, he efficiendy lathered Jamie's face with a heath-scented soap and began his ministrations with a sharp razor and a steady hand. Minutes later Jamie smoothed a hand over his jaw, pleased with the results, while Hugh made quick work with a comb, gathering Jamie's dark brown hair in a sleek tail behind his neck and tying it in place with a narrow bit of silk.

  “Time for yer shirt, sir.” Hugh dressed him with minimal fuss, brushing off the last crumbs of dinner from his breeches and giving his much-worn waistcoat a tidy look. “Now to your neckcloth.” The manservant tied the cravat with nimble fingers, pressed it in place, then stepped back to view his handiwork. His smile was more affirming than any looking glass. “The lady will be won from the first, Mr. McKie. Have no fear of it.”

  Jamie dismissed him with a word of thanks, then gathered his wits about him before setting out to find Rose. She'd spent a good deal of time sequestered in Leana's room since the debacle. Comforting her sister, no doubt. He would knock on their nearby door in passing, then proceed through the house and gardens until he found her. Stepping into the upstairs hall, he was relieved to find it deserted. The servants had gleaned enough gossip for the day.

  “Rose?” He knocked on her door, gendy at first, then with a firmer knuckle. No answer. He hurried down the stair, listening for her lilting voice. She was not at the hearth nor in the spence. The kitchen was a noisy din of servants cleaning up after the meal but no Rose among them. Neda caught his eye and inclined her head toward the gardens. He nodded his thanks, then headed out through the front door rather than soil his clothes going through the scullery.

  It was a fine day, the colors bright and shimmering against the blue sky. Not that it would last; good weather in Scodand never did. Perhaps Rose was enjoying a walk in the countryside while the sun blessed Galloway with its warm presence. He strolled through the empty orchard and around the east side of the house, watching for the striped gown he'd seen her wearing earlier. He'd almost turned the corner of the house when he heard girlish laughter floating on the autumn air, coming from the direction of the rose garden. An ideal spot for wooing. His stride lengthened as he caught sight of the two sisters among the thorny stalks, surrounded by blooms once fresh, now bent and bruised, petals scattered to the winds.

  “The two finest flowers in the garden,” Jamie announced, relieved to find them both free of tears, even smiling a bit after the ordeal. “Surely you aren't cutting roses for the hall table? They're long past their prime.” He watched their smiles fade and knew he'd said something wrong. “Or have you found one still blooming?”

  “Two.” Leana held them aloft, a profusion of petals surrounded by dark, almost blue leaves. “See?”

  He bent over to inspect them. Palest pink on the outside, the color deepened near the center where the stamen winked at him among the petals like a tiny green eye. A pleasant fragrance tickled his nose. “Lovely.” He straightened to look at his intended bride. The right word. “Lovely,” he said again, and her face quickly matched the blossom. He turned and winked at Leana. “What do you call this breed?”

  “Breed?” Leana laughed. “They're roses, Jamie, not sheep. One plants them, prunes, them, feeds them—”

  “And breeds them. Roses are hybrids, cultivated by…ah, breeders, aye?

  Cousin Leana was now the color of the flower in question as well. “Aye, but we usually call them a variety of rose. Or a species. Or a type.”

  He nodded, always willing to learn. “And the name of this variety?”

  The sisters looked at each other, then burst into laughter while Leana managed to say, “Maidens Blush.”

  “Ah.”

  Leana patted her cheeks as though to cool them. “This species seldom blooms so late in the season, but these two surprised us.”

  Jamie tipped his head, regarding them both. “Just as you two have certainly surprised me.”

  “Really?” A sudden curiosity shone in Roses dark eyes. “What did Aunt Rowena tell you about us? We wrote her now and then over the years. Did she tell you what we might be like?”

  He bit his lip, hoping the truth wouldn't offend. “She didn't often make mention of your family while I was growing up. And when… when it was necessary for me to leave, there wasn't time. I hastened away, knowing only that I would find two cousins at the end of my journey. One dark, one fair, both bonny. That was all I remembered.” His smile was genuine and meant to charm. “Believe me, it was enough. Enough to bring me nigh to fifty miles with litde food and no silver.”

  “Are you glad you came?” Rose asked softly, locking gazes with him. “Was it…worth your journey?”

  His heart swelled with longing, and his voice grew thick. “You know that it was.”

  Jamie had almost forgotten that Leana was still standing there, holding two fragrant blooms on thorn-covered stems. He turned to her now, wanting to include her in some way. The wan expression on her face told him it was too late. “Might I take those inside for you?”

  Leana thrust the roses into his hands, pricking his palms. “If you choose.” Grabbing her skirts, she was away at once, headed for the road.

  Dumbfounded, Jamie watched her disappear from sight, then turned to discover Rose near tears. Ochi There was no accounting for women and their moods. “Rose, what is it? What have I done?”

  “I'm sorry, Jamie.” She tugged a dainty handkerchief from her sleeve and patted her nose, then took a deep breath. “I can think of no other way to tell you except to say it: You have chosen the wrong woman.”

  “I've what?” He threw the flowers to the ground and grabbed both her hands in his. “From the very first moment I saw you, Rose, I knew. Knew you were the woman the Almighty intends for me to marry.”

  Her eyes were like windows with the curtains drawn. “How did you know?”

  “I knew because…” How did he know? “Because of your beauty.”

  She shook her head, clearly disappointed, and released his hands. “Beauty fades. Flowers are proof of it.”

  “But your…” He searched for the right word. “Your joy. Your joy captured my heart. And your sheep…”

  Her eyes widened. “You fell in love with my sheep?’

  “Nae! Not your sheep. They were impressive. Aye, they were that. But it was watching you with your sheep, your tender way with them— that's what struck me.”

  She nodded, as though distracted for a moment, then lifted her chin to meet his gaze again. “What if I told you that I had…other plans?”

  “Other plans?” His patience snapped in two. “Since when, lass? You've said no such thing, not in all these days we've had together.”

  “That's true, but…but every time you've hinted at your plans, I've tried my best to discourage you.”

  “Oo aye!” He rolled his eyes. “That was a most discouraging kiss the Wednesday last.”

  “But you kissed me”

  “And you kissed me back, lass.” He clasped her about the shoulders, pliant beneath his firm grip. “Or don't you know what it means to press your lips against a man's mouth?” He bent closer. “To warm beneath his touch?”

  “Nae.” She swayed as he pulled her closer still. “I dont know.”

  He kissed her hard, his teeth striking hers, his mouth making sure, making very sure she kissed him back.

  When he lifted his face from hers, tears filled her eyes. Her lips, wet from his mouth, were trembling. “Jamie, I…”

  “Rose, oh, Rose.” He pulled her against him in a loose embrace, not wanting to frighten her further. “Forgive my boldness, lass. A man needs to know how a woman feels about him. Words are…not our way of knowing.”

  “I see.” She took a deep breath, then released it with a mournful sigh like wind through a pipe. “Jamie, you must listen to me.” She pushed him away, then stepped back, putting more distance between them. “My eyes and lips may tell you one thin
g, but my heart and head have decided quite another.”

  “But—”

  “Please, Jamie. Think.” Her expression was kind but resolute. “Have I said or done a single thing to mislead you?”

  He glanced away from her, determined to think of something. Instead, images of Roses avoiding his gaze and shrinking from his touch rushed to mind. When he turned to look at her once more, he was forced to admit the truth. “Nae. You have not misled me. I have deceived myself.”

  “I am sorry, Jamie.” She touched his arm, only for a moment, then dropped her hand. “I am too young. Marriage…frightens me. But there is one who cares for you.” She paused, as if he might guess before she spoke the words. “My sister.”

  “Leana?” Of course. Other images came swiftly to mind. Meeting Leanas gaze when they first greeted each other. Strolling through the village with her to kirk. Smiling at Leana across the dinner table. Finding her in the orchard. Encounters that meant nothing to him but obviously spoke volumes to her.

  “But Leana is my…cousin. Nothing more.” His shoulders sagged with the burden of his disappointment. “I care for her as I might my own sister, if I had a sister. She does not…well, she…”

  “How do you know?” Rose persisted. “You've been so busy looking at me, you ve not considered Leana properly. You ve not kissed her, as you have me, nor laced your fingers through hers, nor felt the beat of her heart against yours. Jamie, she deserves a fine husband, and she cares for you. Cares very much, if you must know.”

  “She does?”

  “Aye, you can be sure of it. Her words to me were, ‘Jamie is everything Fergus McDougal is not/ ”

  He snorted. “Och, that's an encouraging thought. ‘Not like Fergus’—now there's a hearty recommendation.”

  “Don't you see? Now that Mr. McDougal is no longer her suitor, Leana is free to marry someone else. The sooner she does so, the better. And she very much hoped to marry you.”

  “Marry…?” He groaned, watching his plans start to crumble like a handful of stale bannocks. “Am I to understand that you feel nothing for me?”