by Fiona Neal
Lady Mary halted. “Aye, I did.”
“Then why try to kill me?” Deirdre asked.
Lady Mary face took on a crazed look. “When I learned you had escaped, I decided to eliminate you permanently so you would never again stand in our way.”
“Robert would have married me years ago if it had not been for her and her harlot of a mother.” Lady Mary shot a lethal look at Deirdre.
Ian had never seen such intense animosity directed at anyone.
Deirdre jumped to her feet. “How dare you!”
“It is true.” Lady Mary continued to glare unflinchingly at Deirdre. “I realized that as long as you are alive, your uncle would be reminded of Jeanne MacLeod, the only woman he ever loved. Why do you think he never married and showed you such devotion?” Lady Mary smiled maliciously. “It is because you are really Robert’s daughter, Lady Kilbraeton!”
“Good God!” Strathaven exclaimed.
Lady Mary arched an eyebrow. “But with you gone, in his grief, he would have turned to me. We would have had other children—my children!”
“No, it is not true,” Deirdre exclaimed.
Ian rose, putting his arm around Deirdre’s waist.
“That is a serious accusation, Lady Mary,” Ian warned.
She focused her glacial gaze on Ian. “I stated my beliefs.”
“With the hope of instilling doubt and fear,” Ian said.
“I am not on trial, my lord, and I shall say what I please. Your own father killed the former Earl of Ballanross. No one mentions that it was because your father also had an affair with Jeanne MacLeod. That is why Ewan MacLeod challenged him to a duel. I remember the great whore had all the men dancing in attendance on her.”
That is not the story I heard,” Ian responded.
“Of course, you were told a convenient lie.” She walked to the open window.
“Nay, Lady Mary. It is you who lie and plot treason and murder. You will be punished,” Ian countered. “The king himself will demand your blood and send agents to France to apprehend Alan Stewart.”
“The Wee German Lairdie will never touch me,” Lady Mary shrieked, leaping onto the windowsill.
Ian and Strathaven ran toward her, but before they could reach her, the woman hurled herself out the window.
Deirdre’s screams ripped the air as he and Strathaven raced to the aperture. Ian gazed down. Lady Mary lay on the cobbles beneath as blood widened like a gory halo around her smashed skull.
* * * *
“You are not to put a toe on the floor, Deirdre,” Ian ordered. Hands clasped behind his back, he paced at the foot of the big four-poster where she lay, propped up on several pillows. “Dr. Cameron has ordered bed rest for at least a week. You’ve been through quite an ordeal. He has concerns for our child, as I do, but right now, I am more worried about you.”
Deirdre smoothed her hand over the blue satin counterpane, appreciative of his solicitude. Ian did not need to convince her. The cramping and spotting had terrified her. Adding to the upset, the matter of Lady Mary’s accusations devastated her.
“But, I shall never rest until I know the truth about my uncle and my mother. I must see him.”
“Do not let the ranting of a mad woman disturb you, Deirdre. She wanted to poison your happiness with her venomous lies since she failed to kill you.”
“Ian, I know you would want to know the truth about your parentage.” He stopped, and his moss-green gaze met hers. “Very well, love.” He walked to the side of her bed. Picking up her hand, he kissed it. “I shall send for Sir Robert. But must you rest. And to make you feel at home until we can return to Kilbraeton, I’ll send for Connor and Morag.” “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“I hope your uncle’s words give you peace of mind, love.”
Deirdre harbored a strange feeling the truth would unsettle her. Still, she had to know.
* * * *
Several days later her uncle sat by her bedside. “I was shocked when I heard of Lady Mary’s death. She always seemed so young and so full of life, but when Ian told me the circumstances, I found them incredible.”
“Did Ian disclose her remarks to you, Uncle Robert?”
“Nay, he did not.”
Deirdre cringed, remembering Lady Mary plummeting from the window.
Her uncle leaned forward, taking hold of her hand. “You seem upset. Let us discuss this later, my dear.”
“I think not.” Deirdre squeezed his hand. “I wish to clear up the matter once and for all. The accusation she hurled just moments before she killed herself haunts me. Surely, she would not lie before meeting her creator.”
Tears threatening, Deirdre recounted the whole incident, watching the painful expression in her uncle’s eyes widen like ripples in a clear blue pool.
As she finished, Deirdre released his hand. Her uncle stood and walked to the window, looking out.
“Please, Uncle Robert, I have a right to know.”
“All right, my dear. I shall tell you everything. Your mother was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She was also the kindest. We liked each other from the moment we met, and we shared similar interests.”
He turned from the window and walked to the foot of her bed. “She enjoyed poetry, and so did I. She was an excellent musician, as you are, and we often sang duets. In short, she had nothing in common with my brother, Ewan, her betrothed.
“He amused himself with racing horses, gaming, and drinking. He also loved women, all of them. He was a handsome, devil-may-care man who could charm the moon from the sky.” Her uncle sighed.
“I fell in love with Jeanne. Although she did not confess her feelings at the time, I knew that she returned my sentiments. But she was promised to my brother, the earl. I could not bear to live at Ballanross, watching him take her as his bride, so I left.”
Her whole body tense, Deirdre listened to the shocking story.
“I went to Glasgow and invested in the shipping business. I became quite successful and I bought land on Skye, bordering Ballanross, but I stayed in Glasgow for the most part. Eventually, my wealth increased while Ewan sank deeper and deeper into debt. I heard that he was also drinking more heavily.”
“Oh,” Deirdre cried.
His wide shoulders slumped. “Sometime later, I received a letter from your mother, begging me to return to Ballanross to manage the estate because Ewan was ruining it.” He shook his head. “I could not bear to see my ancestral home fall into someone else’s hands, so I offered to pay his debts if he would allow me to manage the estate.”
He returned to his chair by the bed. “My brother agreed. He cared nothing about the estate. He just wanted the revenues it produced. If I made the land more profitable, he would have more money with which to gamble, drink, and wench.”
Her uncle took out his snuff-box and turned it over in his hand. “He had several women on Skye. Your mother knew, but she remained silent.”
“Meanwhile, he berated her for not producing an heir. I suspected that her barren state was his fault. Ewan had no by-blows by his many mistresses either. I investigated.”
Deirdre started to tremble, anticipating his words.
“I discreetly asked a physician about it. The doctor told me that if a man caught the mumps, sometimes the illness killed his seed. Ewan had a severe case as a child. He ran a high fever, and for a time, my parents feared for his life. I came away with a light touch of the illness.”
Deirdre’s mouth grew dry.
“One time, when Ewan left for Edinburgh, your mother and I finally succumbed to the inevitable. Once we took that step, we could not stay out of each other’s arms. For the first time, her body quickened.” He returned the snuff-box to his pocket.
“So then, you are…” She couldn’t finish the words as tears glutted her throat. “Your father,” he said as he took her hand. “We both felt terribly guilty for the deception we had perpetrated, but we did not stop. Denied so long, our love would no longer be suppressed.”
/> “Oh!” Deirdre sobbed.
“I am sorry, my child. Would you prefer I stop?”
“Nay,” she said, wanting to know the entire story. Then she and her uncle could put it to rest.
“Ewan thought you were his child. My brother’s enormous ego would not allow him to think otherwise.” Her uncle grimaced. “He was terribly disappointed when you were born a girl.”
“Oh,” Deirdre replied.
“He decided he wanted to travel and stayed away for about three years, taking your mother with him. But I continued to manage things at Ballanross.”
“Didn’t you miss her?”
“Aye, but they left you behind, and you became the joy of my life. I knew that you would be countess one day.”
“When they returned from the continent, Ewan had aged. His drinking had become worse, and he made our lives miserable.” Her uncle shook his head.
“Did he beat my mother?”
“Nay, but he was rude, demanding, and arrogant to us. One day he left Edinburgh. At a party, he cheated at cards. Ian’s father quietly asked him to repay the money, but Ewan insulted Ian’s family. A duel ensued, and Duncan Campbell’s sword pierced Ewan’s heart.” He grimaced.
“So Lady Mary lied about Duncan and my mother,” Deirdre said. “They were not lovers.”
“Nay, they were just friends.” He nodded.
“All this time, I thought Ian’s father had robbed me of mine.”
Her uncle’s eyes grew wistful. “Your mother and I decided that, out of respect to Ewan, we should wait a year until we married. We knew we would never stay out of each other’s arms so we took care to avoid another pregnancy until after we were married, though we very much wanted more children. As the year progressed, we became happier and happier.”
“I remember the two of you laughing and singing,” Deirdre said.
“We had just decided on a date to marry when she became ill with a fever. On her deathbed, she made me promise never to tell you the truth and to ensure you married Ian. She wanted the wrong Ewan had done to the Campbells to be healed by the marriage.” “Oh, Father!”
“Nay, Deirdre, for the sake of your mother’s reputation, you cannot reveal the truth. I must remain your uncle forever, though I long to proclaim you as my daughter to the whole world. But nothing must ever besmirch your mother’s name.”
“You are right, except I must tell Ian.” She refused to allow a secret to separate them ever again.
“Your husband is the best of men. He will protect our secret. No deception should come between a husband and a wife.”
His words caused fresh tears to fall. She held out her arms to him. Her father sat on the edge of the bed and rocked her as he did when she was a child. The feelings of happiness and contentment she felt then returned in full force.
All these years she had longed for the father she thought the Campbells had taken from her, only to find that he had been with her, cherishing her all that time.
“Oh, dearest,” she said between sobs, “I cannot find it in my heart to hate Lady Mary. I can feel only pity for her. She knew! She knew she could never possess your heart and it twisted her bitterly.”
“But do you understand why I could never love anyone but your mother? She has never really left me because she is always in my heart. And she gave me you, Deirdre, and she will live on through your children.”
“Will you stay with me until the babe comes?”
“Of course, I am counting the days, lass.”
“So am I.” Deirdre hoped she and Ian would present him with many grandchildren. “I love you, dearest. And you are right. My mother is still with us.”
“I will go now and let you speak to your husband, Deirdre.” He released her and stood. “The sooner he knows the truth the better,” he said, making his exit.
Moments later, Ian entered and sat on the edge of the bed. Tearfully, she revealed the whole story. “All these years, I blamed your family for robbing me of a father when he was there all along, caring for me.”
Ian embraced her. “So often the thing we long for is closer to us than we know.”
“Can you forgive me, Ian? I long ago realized you had nothing to do with it.”
“That is all in the past, love, and we have a bright present and happy future before us. I love you, Deirdre.”
“And I love you, Ian.”
Epilogue
Spring had again come to Kilbraeton. Deirdre held her baby boy close as she gazed out of the drawing room window. Outside, the residents of the estate scurried about, preparing the wedding feast for Fergus, long ago officially pardoned, and Morag.
Men rolled barrels of heather ale onto the wide expanse of lawn. Long trestle tables stood on the lush turf, waiting for their burden of platters heaped with food. In the fields beyond, the grain had sprouted in a delicate green. The cherry orchard stood like a haze of white blossoms against the glow of the bright sun—a perfect day to marry.
Connor ran about, chasing the shepherd’s young daughter.
Everything in Deirdre’s life was progressing nicely.
Ian entered with Strathaven and Sir Robert.
Deirdre smiled. “You look pleased, gentlemen.”
“Ian has good news to share,” Strathaven announced as they walked toward her.
“What is it?” Deirdre looked expectantly toward her husband.
“I have employed a schoolmaster to teach the children on Skye, and Sir Robert, Strathaven, and I have decided to start a fund for displaced crofters.”
“Oh, Ian, that is wonderful.”
“I wish to endow it in honor of your mother,” Sir Robert said.
“In a few months I will come of age so I can contribute,” Deirdre added.
“We shall be happy to take your contribution,” Strathaven commented.
“Do you plan to attend the season in Edinburgh this year, Lord Strathaven?” Deirdre shifted, the baby, little Robert to her other shoulder. “I know it was my fault you did not attend last summer.”
“Nay, I have told Gram that I shall find a wife when the time is right. Love can neither be planned nor rushed.”
Ian put his arm around Deirdre’s shoulders. “And sometimes you find it where you least expect it.”
Strathaven smiled. “Well, I shall leave you two with my godchild and ready myself for the upcoming nuptials.”
“I shall do the same,” her uncle announced, and both men quit the room.
Ian urged her to sit on the sofa and took his place next to her.
“Ian, thank you so much for the gift you gave to Fergus. He has long wanted to run an inn.”
“Had it not been for his quick action, we would not be together today. Besides, the man was ready to die for you, Deirdre.” He nodded gravely. “He deserves that place and more. I also learned an important lesson from the both of you. You’ve taught me that justice must always be tempered with mercy.”
“Do you really believe that, Ian?”
“With all my heart,” he said.
“I have no secrets from you and never want any, Ian. I hated living a lie and having debts and deceptions.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Well, you no longer have those worries.”
“Thank heaven restitution has been made.” Deirdre sighed with relief.
Ian chuckled. “I shall never forget the looks on your benefactors’ faces when they were all gathered in the great hall and eloquent letters and money were given to each one of them.”
“Nor will I.” Deirdre kissed her sleeping babe’s forehead.
“It took time to compose all those notes, but it was more fun than writing legal decisions. And you created a legend, Deirdre. All over Scotland women go to sleep at night wondering who the gallant Flame is. They will talk about the rogue as long as there is a Scotland.”
Deirdre smiled. “Aunt Barbara has never quite gotten over it.”
“It is been the thrill of her life, and I heard that all of Britain credits her wit
h reforming the highwayman since she supposedly inspired him to give back the necklace. Even the queen was impressed.”
“I do not doubt it.” Deirdre chuckled.
Ian’s green eyes twinkled with mirth, and he gently stroked his son’s head.
“I regret I had to resort to robbery, Ian, but I learned a lesson also. I will not take the law into my own hands again.”
“We have both grown, love.”
She gazed into his eyes, her heart overflowing with emotion. “I love you, Ian.”
“And I love you, Deirdre, now and until The Flame fades from myth,” he declared before kissing her.
The End