His Rebellious Lass (Scottish Hearts)

by Hutton, Callie

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  Cam stiffened. “I can’t imagine saying that any other way to clarify the statement. Lady Campbell rose this morning, ordered the carriage, packed up her belongings, and left.”

  “Left for where?” the physician asked, not unkindly.

  “She and I have been working on a project to provide a safe place for women who are being abused. I believe I spoke with you about it before.”

  Harris nodded. “A wonderful endeavor.”

  “Purchasing the house was a requirement from my wife before she would consent to be married. She decided to move there.”

  Harris let out a slow whistle. “I am no great reader of minds, my friend, but there is definitely more to this story than what you are telling me.”

  He waved his hand. “There is no reason for your concern. I will work it out.”

  After a few moments, Cam leaned forward, placing his forearms on his thighs, his cup of coffee forgotten. “Actually, to tell you the truth, I really messed this one up. I don’t think there is a solution here.”

  “Can I help? I’ve been married ten years, and we still speak with each other.”

  Leaning back, Cam rested his booted foot on his knee. “This will never pass your lips, and I am asking this only because I trust you and figure, with your medical training, you might know the answer.” He took a deep breath. “Have you ever known, or heard of, a woman not possessing her maidenhead except for the obvious reason?”

  “Of course,” Harris said immediately, frowning. “’Tis more common than most know.”

  Cam’s brows rose and his stomach sunk. “Indeed?” He dragged his hand down his face, feeling as if he’d been smacked over the head with a board. Which is probably something that needed to be done. He’d messed things up horribly, had made sure his wife knew he didn’t believe her, or trust her, and then let her sail out the door as if he didn’t care at all.

  So far from how he actually felt that he was sick to his stomach. He broke into a sweat at the thought of Bridget never forgiving him, of living her life without him. He sucked in a deep breath. “I am apparently one of the most.” His shaky laugh fell flat.

  “Yes. Women who ride, especially like my wife, who rides astride in breeches, can lose it in that way.” Harris regarded him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “Your wife, too?”

  Harris nodded. “Or a woman could be born without one.”

  Cam dropped his head back and cursed at the ceiling. “Bloody hell.”

  “Don’t tell me that is the basis of Lady Campbell vacating the premises this morning?” Harris looked at him as if Cam were without a soul.

  He hesitated, but there was no reason to make himself appear any better than what Harris’s opinion of him must be at the moment. “Yes and no. I think that had something to do with it, but also my high-handedness about other things might have made the situation worse.”

  “High-handedness? Surely you jest,” his companion said with a grin, apparently in an attempt to inject some humor into the conversation.

  Cam scowled at him and cleared his throat. “I sort of told her I would no longer support the women’s house she is so devoted to unless she married me.”

  Harris stared at him with a pitiful look and groaned. “Not well done, my lord. It appears you have some significant groveling to do.”

  …

  It was three days after Bridget had moved into what she’d named The Sanctuary. She’d just finished drawing sketches of each room, noting where furniture would be placed. She’d also made a list of staff she would need when the renovations were finished. Because the women worked long hours every day, it would make their life easier if they had to take care of only their own spaces, which kept her from having to hire more than one maid.

  She’d already had two women knock on the door, asking about the house. One of them inquired if she would accept women with children, which she had planned on doing, but after it had been brought to her attention, she realized she would need a nanny or governess for the little ones.

  It was difficult turning them away with the news that it would be a while before she could accept boarders. There was still so much to work out, and she still needed to consider how to keep the women safe and their husbands unaware of their location.

  All things to think about, which was good. Because it kept her mind off the disaster her marriage had become.

  Here she was away from her husband, who seemed to be quite content with the arrangement. She’d been foolish, no doubt. Rash and childish. She should have demanded they talk it all out. His threat to deny her the women’s house if she did not marry him had angered her, but the main reason she’d left was to protect her heart.

  She truly did not want to live day after day with a man who resented her, or who felt as though he had to direct every moment of her life. But was she so certain he did resent her? Could he grow to love her?

  And then there was the matter of him not believing she’d never lain with a man before. What it had come down to was a lack of trust.

  She looked up from where she sat on the floor, going through the sketches again, when Marvin, one of the footmen Cam had sent with her, entered the room. “My lady, Lord Campbell has arrived and requests a few minutes of your time.”

  Dumbfounded, Bridget just sat there staring at the man. Cam is here?

  Before she gathered her thoughts enough to answer, her husband strolled into the room. “Good morning, wife.” He grinned in the way that set her heart to pounding.

  She didn’t even scramble to rise from her very unladylike position, still trying to process the idea that Cam stood here right in front of her. “What…what are you doing here?”

  He gave her a curt nod. “I have come to make notes to send to the man I have hired to begin renovations.” He clasped his hands behind his back and wandered the room, looking at the walls and ceiling, checking the windows and shutters. She twisted and turned to follow him with her eyes.

  “I will add to my list to bring in painters and secure some furniture.” He continued his perusal as if everything between them was perfectly normal and she hadn’t walked out on him the day after their wedding.

  She shook her head, still trying to understand. When she shifted to stand, he was by her side in a flash, reaching out to help her up. His grip was strong, warm, and solid. She studied his face, but nothing showed there. His mien was as blank as a poorly done portrait.

  “Why are you really here, Cam?”

  “I told you. As your husband, this is my investment as well as yours. I imagine you have not had a great deal of experience in setting up a household from nothing.” He took her hands in his and stared into her eyes. “I want to help.”

  She hated the fluttering in her stomach and the increase in her breathing at his nearness. The arrogance she was so very familiar with was missing. He looked almost contrite. Very un-Cam-like.

  “Why?”

  He brushed a wisp of a curl that had come loose from her hastily arranged hairdo behind her ear.

  The back of his warm hand brushed her cheek. “You are my wife. It is my duty…”

  She pulled her hand free and walked out of the room, mumbling under her breath. Botheration. He was still concerned with his duty. Would that always be the motivation for everything he did for her? Duty?

  Cam chased after her and caught her arm as she reached the first step of the staircase. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to say that. I want to help because I am as anxious as you are to see this project finished. As I told you, I have already introduced bills into Parliament to help the downtrodden.”

  She was so confused. He looked sincere, but that word “duty” always popped up. “I don’t want to be your ‘duty,’ my lord.”

  He shook his head. “No. I want to do this because I…because I want to help.”

  What was that hesitation? Was he about to say something else? No matter, he had at least come to her. “Very well. I must a
dmit I feel a bit overwhelmed.”

  He looked around the bare space, and once again he took her hands in his. “There doesn’t seem to be a comfortable space here. Shall we return to our house and go over some suggestions? I do have a few ideas.”

  She stiffened. Was he here only to get her back to his house? Was all this a plan to undermine her leaving?

  Almost as if he read her thoughts, he put his hands up in surrender. “I have no motive other than to help you. We decided to do this project together, and I want to carry through. I want to carry through. I don’t feel like it’s merely a duty.” He extended his hand to her, a slight smile on his handsome face.

  She gazed at his hand. Since she was miserable without him and wondering if she’d made the right decision to leave without trying to talk it over, everything inside her screamed to place her hand in his.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Cam released the breath he’d been holding when Bridget placed her delicate hand in his large one. First battle won.

  And a battle it would be. He’d been so adamant about doing the right thing, the honorable thing, that he’d totally ignored Bridget and her desires, treating her more like a possession than the wonderful, loving woman she was.

  Everything he’d learned about women from the time he’d been a youth flew out of his muddled head when she was around him. Most likely, if he’d handled the idea of them marrying a bit more like a lover and less like a gaoler, she might have been more amenable to the idea.

  A fool, him.

  Now that he’d gotten her to agree to accompany him to their townhouse he felt a bit more settled. But not so settled that he would make the same mistakes again. She needed to feel cherished and cared for, not smothered and ordered about like a servant.

  He assisted Bridget into the carriage after locking up the women’s house. He wanted more than anything to sit alongside her and pull her onto his lap, but common sense prevailed, and he took the seat across from her. Take it slow. He had all the time in the world. They would be married for the rest of their lives and, depending on how this went, it could be wonderful or horrific.

  God, how he’d missed her. Why had he ever imagined that marrying her would be a duty? Merely a responsibility and a way to restore his good name? He’d been fooling himself for quite some time.

  “You are an ass, Cam.” Harris’s comment had broken the silence when he’d gone into more detail with the physician about the problems he and Bridget were having. “Yes, an ass. And a dunderhead, a muddleheaded featherbrain,” the good doctor had added.

  “Well, thank you so much, my friend. Perchance you might be a bit clearer in your observation. Don’t hold back on my account.” He ran his palm down his face, knowing he was correct.

  “Time to get down on your aristocratic knee and beg your bride to take you back. Grovel, my man. Grovel. Works every time.” Harris grinned, obviously enjoying Cam’s distress. Blast the man.

  “Go to your wife. Make up. Say things she wants to hear, not the numbskull things you’ve been tossing at her.”

  Harris had been right, and he’d wrestled with the idea on the soggy trek home. He needed to make the first move. It was during that long walk that it had smacked him in the face like a wet cloth.

  He loved her. He truly did.

  It was that simple, and amazing how it all fell into place after he admitted he did not want to spend his life without her. She was his wife, but instead of ordering her to return home, he would woo her. Show her how much he cared and wanted her for his marchioness.

  All the reasons he’d given himself as to why he didn’t want to marry and have children seemed like excuses to avoid the commitment when he’d dug deep enough to be honest with himself. His sisters showed no nasty streaks, and he had every reason to believe any child of his would be loved and cared for, because he was nothing like his father in any way. He even found it in his heart to forgive the man. He’d been a miserable human being and had foisted all his anger and disappointment in life on his family. The late Marquess of Campbell was to be pitied.

  As they rode through the heavy London traffic, he remembered the curiosity in her face at his sudden arrival at the house. He smiled at the memory of her puzzlement, feeling more lighthearted than he had in days. Hell, in weeks.

  Once they came to a stop in front of their townhouse in Mayfair, he jumped from the carriage and turned to assist her. He took her arm and then ascended the steps to a smiling Dobson, who held the door open. “Good afternoon, my lord, my lady.”

  “Good afternoon. Please have Cook send in a light repast to the library.” Cam took Bridget’s hand after she was freed of her coat and bonnet. With their fingers intertwined, they walked the short distance from the entrance hall to the library.

  Cam led her to the settee in front of the cozy fire and returned to his desk. With the shaft of papers he’d been working on for a couple of days, he joined her. “I have some ideas here.” He took a quick glance at her. “If you like them, that is.”

  Bridget continued to stare at him as she took the papers from his hand. “You have been working on this?”

  “Yes. As I told you, I want to help. But you are in charge,” he quickly added. He waved at the papers. “These are some ideas about needed furniture and where to obtain it.”

  She studied the documents, flipping the pages as she read it all. “Impressive.” She smiled and laid the papers on her lap. “Frankly, I could use the help. I’ve been so busy trying to do everything and remember all that is necessary to get the house up and running that I haven’t had time for much else.”

  “Do you have a budget?”

  “Budget?”

  He tried not to smile. Bridget’s heart was definitely in the right place, but at least she acknowledged that she needed help. After years of managing his various estates and overseeing his stewards and man of business, he had quite a bit of experience and ideas on how to go about setting up the house.

  No matter how many mistakes she made, he would still allow her free rein and support her. This was her dream, her project, and he would never again threaten to take it away from her. “Perhaps we can work on one together?”

  She seemed relieved. “Yes. That is a good idea. I am quite adept at hiring staff, because I did that duty for my father when he was alive. I might also have some skill in decorating and furnishing, but the finances baffle me. We also need to come up with an idea on how, and who, to approach about donating money. And how to keep the house hidden from unwanted visitors.”

  He rested his back against the settee and casually rested his arm along the top. When she didn’t move away, he began playing with the hair that had fallen from her chignon. Bloody hell, even that little bit of contact made him hard.

  Take it slow.

  They put their heads together while enjoying the light meal Cook sent in and worked out a reasonable budget. He had to try very hard to keep quiet and let her discover things he saw right away.

  The long clock in the corner struck seven. They both looked up, surprised. “Oh, my. I had no idea it was that late.”

  He took her hand and held to it his mouth, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Stay for dinner?”

  She hopped up and shook out her skirts. “No. I think it best if I return home.”

  He climbed to his feet, holding in his temper. “This is your home.”

  “Don’t do this, Cam.”

  He took in a deep breath. She was right. Rushing her would not serve his purpose. “May I offer a suggestion?”

  “What?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “It is apparent we need to discuss much more. Also, you will be busy with the contractor. I can help, if you allow me to seek out furnishings. Even though the prior owner left some items, you will need many more beds to accommodate all the women you hope to help.”

  “I would accept that.” She stretched. “Can you arrange for your carriage to return me?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “I have
never been comfortable with you spending the night in that neighborhood, Bridget.”

  “You sent two footmen with me.”

  “Yes. But they’re not me. You don’t realize how dangerous the area is for a woman like you.”

  “Me? What about all the women we expect to house? Do they not count?”

  “You are a lady of Quality. It is apparent from everything about you, from your well-cut clothing to your expensive half boots. Anyone looking to make a few coins would go after you much quicker than any of the other women in the neighborhood, who are trying to stretch every sixpence they earn.”

  She raised her chin. “There is a lock on the door.”

  How to make her understand no lock on the door would prevent someone with nefarious purposes from climbing through a window. “What if I spent the night there also?”

  Bridget shook her head furiously. “No. It does me no good to move out of your house—”

  “Our house—”

  “—if you are going to follow me there.”

  Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and her breathing increased. He hated having to back off, since everything protective in him rebelled. But he could not undo all the good that had come from today. He dipped his head. “Very well.”

  …

  Bridget was still unsettled from the day. She’d barely gotten over Cam jumping in to help her. The most amazing part of the day had been how he’d allowed her to take the lead and hadn’t foisted his own ideas and opinions on her.

  She dared not, in her foolishness, allow herself to think he’d done that because he cared for her. Perhaps the entire thing had been his way of strengthening his honor and position in Society, because it would soon become known that she had left him the morning after their wedding. Even with the old Season far behind them and the new Season months away, gossip spread among the ton like an overflowing river.

  The ride to the women’s house was quiet as she went over the happenings of the day. Cam spent the time gazing out the window and watching her. She could never allow him to spend the night at The Sanctuary. There was no doubt in her mind that if he did so, he would end up in her bed. As small and uncomfortable as the dilapidated old thing was.