The Negotiated Marriage

by Christina Rich

  Taking her hand in his, he lifted the back of her hand to his mouth, his gaze holding hers, filled with determination. He kissed her hand, her eyes widening. “Agreed, sweetheart.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath at his endearment and jerked her hand away. How dare he tell her he wanted a platonic marriage and then woo her with his charm? Frustrated with the man, she plopped into her chair. Mara took a chair opposite her, and Hamish’s limped gait suddenly disappeared as he dashed across the room, stealing the chair beside her younger sister, leaving empty spaces on either side of Camy, one for Ellie and one for Duncan.

  All through dinner, his forearm bumped against hers, his wide shoulders brushing hers. He conversed with Hamish about the planting as if he intended to stay. They spoke about the terrain and the best place to build a house. Camy pushed the fish around her plate with her fork, intently thinking about what it would be like to see him, to know he was close, to know she carried his name, and nothing more.

  Camy glanced from her plate as Duncan pushed in his chair and noticed everyone had finished eating and the table had been cleared of all dishes except hers.

  “Don’t leave,” Mara said to Duncan. “Stay and play a game of chess with me. Camy hasn’t been any fun lately. She sits there staring at the fire.”

  She read the concern and the question in his eye.

  “I would say she’s had things on her mind,” Duncan responded in her defense.

  “Oh, certainly.” Mara giggled as Camy held her breath waiting for her sister to say more. Duncan didn’t need to know about her woolgathering moments, especially since she could blame her inattentiveness on his shoulders.

  “Mara Jean,” Ellie chided. “Set up the board if you’re going to play.”

  Grabbing her dishes, Camy left the table and allowed Mara and Duncan to set up their game. She pulled a chair near the fire, next to Hamish, who snored beneath his hat, and took up the darning basket. From the corner of her eye she watched as Duncan patiently gave Mara pointers with each move.

  Half an hour later Mara squealed in a fit of giggles as Duncan took her king. “It’s your turn, Camy,” she said as she abandoned her seat next to Duncan.

  Duncan leaned back in the chair, his shirtsleeves rolled to just below his elbows. The crisp hair on his forearms a stark contrast to the tan shirt they crossed over. His brow rose, challenging her. “Well?”

  She felt conspired against as if Duncan and Mara were in league together trying to drive her to the brink of insanity. The less time she spent in Duncan’s company, the less chance she’d be affected by his charm. As if she hadn’t already.

  She took the seat next to Duncan as he set the pieces on the board.

  “Black or tan?”

  “T-tan,” she responded as she wiped her palm over her skirt.

  An hour later she chewed on the tip of her nail as she stared at the remaining pieces. Mara breathed over her shoulder. Ellie leaned across the table and Hamish puffed on his unlit pipe. Camy toyed with her rook. Duncan’s leg slid across the floor, brushing against hers under the table. He quickly pulled it away with a “sorry.” She glanced at him, her cheeks heating. Distracted, she slid her rook across the board, taking the pawn guarding his queen, leaving her king vulnerable.

  Smiling, he leaned forward. He gazed into her eyes, the firelight reflecting in the green, capturing the gold flecks, and she wondered if he recalled their kiss only hours before just as she did now. “Checkmate.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Duncan left the ladies sitting at the table reading their nightly scripture and joined Hamish on the porch. The bowl of Hamish’s pipe glowed orange. Smoke rings rose toward the full light of the moon. Duncan leaned against the bolster supporting the porch and watched Camy through the window, wondering what she would have done if he’d leaned across the table and kissed her in front of her family. After he’d finally won the game of chess, they had written out their negotiated terms and signed them. Mara giggled with excitement while Ellie and Hamish seemed to be reluctant witnesses. Duncan was certain the two had hoped for more than a marriage in name only, and as much as he wanted to offer Camy his heart, Duncan just didn’t think he could.

  Camy had claimed exhaustion and had tried to retire to the bedroom, but he had mouthed the word coward, which had prickled her spine straight as a board and her eyes to mere slits. She pulled her hair into a severe knot, every curl tamed, and lowered her spectacles to the tip of her nose as if to keep her from seeing too much. Even now she stared over Mara’s shoulder. Her hollowness crept into his chest.

  “You two are the most stubborn mules I’ve ever come across,” Hamish said.

  “You would negotiate different terms?” He wished he had the courage to do so. To require her hair to hang down her back whenever they were together. To steal kisses by the river while fishing or playing chess. To invite her to live as a man and wife should.

  Hamish shot off the three-legged stool. “I didnae give ye my land to leave her a spinster in deed.”

  Duncan tore his gaze from the woman capturing his attention through the window and glanced over his shoulder. “Be careful how you judge me, my friend. You sold your niece for a piece of land. I’ve only agreed to her terms.”

  His words were harsh, and he was sorry for it, but he wasn’t feeling charitable toward his friend for placing him in the situation. Although, if Hamish hadn’t manipulated him, he never would have had the chance of knowing her.

  “I gave it to you in exchange for her protection.”

  “Which I cannot, in good conscience, take. I’ll pay the original amount requested. Do what you will with the money. Give it to the orphanage you so often visit.”

  Hamish growled.

  “You’re not the only one who’s been spying.” Duncan sighed, shoved from the post and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I am sorry, Hamish. My thoughts are in turmoil. I wish I could be a husband to her, a real husband.” One who could offer his heart. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone about your exploits at the orphanage. As for your niece, she doesn’t want a husband in deed, and for good reason. You may have found some good in me, but, Hamish, I tell you, I’m no different than her father.” No different than his own.

  “Uncle.” Camy stood framed by the cracked door, her hand on the handle. Her gaze darted between him and Hamish. She stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her. “Mr. Murray and I have come to an agreement, we’ve signed our names and you’ve given your mark. It may not be desirable in your eyes, but it suits us.”

  The old man’s shoulders sagged. “Lass, I want more for you and your sisters. I know I’ve not been the best uncle, leaving ye here for months on yer own, but I care fer ye and I want ye to have love.” He twisted his lips and glanced at Duncan. “I want ye to love each other, and if not love, then at least a fondness.”

  There was fondness between them whether Camy realized it or not. Even now he knew she was remembering their kiss, just as he was.

  “Can ye not try?”

  That was the crux of Duncan’s dilemma; he was trying not to love her. He couldn’t. He wanted to, but the risk of him becoming his father was too great. Perhaps he should tear up their agreement. She might not be able to keep her home, but at least she’d have a chance at finding a husband who would love her as she deserved. The thought of any other man attempting to love her soured his gullet, made him want to fight anyone who dared try to take her from him. He was the worst sort of guttersnipe, selfishly keeping her for himself.

  “Hamish, it is useless.” He regretted his words at the pain of rejection etched in the lines of her eyes. “It’s not you, sweetheart. You’re worth any man’s heart. I’m afraid mine is as black as they come.” He clambered down the stairs and lengthened his strides across the yard until he disappeared into the barn.

&
nbsp; He didn’t need to light the lantern to find his bed, but his fingers itched to play the violin, to lose himself in the notes and forget about all that plagued him for the moment. He set the lantern on a hook and dug out the violin from the crate that had belonged to Camy’s father. He felt like an intruder into Camy’s life, into her father’s belongings, but he didn’t care. Hamish had invited him into their family. Camy had given him permission with the negotiations.

  He slipped out into the field from one of the side barn doors and sat, leaning against the stone structure. The stars glittered in the night sky, seemingly mocking him. How many times had he slept beneath the stars and found hope that there was something much bigger and greater, that there was a Creator of everything around him? Even his father’s abuse of his mother hadn’t taken that away. The war had hardened him, but whenever the stars twinkled he had hope. Now he didn’t know what he felt beyond the sadness stirring in his soul. The mystery of the stars was nothing compared to what he saw in Camy’s eyes when she was happy, and somehow this very night he had diminished the innocent glimmer. As if he’d broken her heart, but how? Did she want him to offer her love?

  Unlatching the case, he grabbed the violin by the neck and hugged it. Memories of sitting in a heather-covered field flooded him. His father had been kind and patient then, teaching him to play. His mother had been happy dancing through the fields, twirling her shawl. His father would tease, singing a tune of fond kisses and broken hearts. That was before the whiskey overtook him, leading him down a path of vulgarity.

  Duncan never should have kissed her. If he remained and did as he said and built a home in the field, he would long for the touch of her hand, the warmth of her lips, and if he left to cease the torment, he’d long for the same. Perhaps even more so.

  He picked up the bow and drew it across the strings. Back and forth as his fingers recalled every note.

  Having met Camy, he now understood the conflicted melody of joy and longing singing into the night. His thoughts mirrored the long-ago penned lyrics, his twisted emotions bubbling over like a cauldron. He paused, Shakespeare’s words on his tongue. “To be or not to be. To love or not to love.”

  No answer came forth, not even from Hound, who sprawled beside him. His parents had loved, and then they had not. His father’s abandonment to alcohol and women had destroyed his mother to the point of her death. The years of brutality had scarred Duncan, his belief in love gone, but Camy stirred something inside him to life. Hope in faithfulness? In love? He knew, even if he chose to leave, she would remain faithful. Even if he never offered her his heart.

  He resumed playing, each word echoing in his head, until he heard the brush of Camy’s skirts against the hay and her soft footfalls pass through the barn door. Of course, Uncle Tommy’s excited squawking had alerted him to her presence.

  Her soft lilt as she sang lyrics from a Robert Burns poem reached out across the field and into the night.

  His heart lurched and then pounded with fierce pride. Listening to Camy speak over the last week, he wasn’t surprised at the beautiful notes matching the violin.

  The song of heart-wrenching tears with promises never to be spoken, sighs of love and groans of despair poured out of her like honey from a jar, echoing across the fields, quaking his very heart and soul.

  * * *

  Enthralled by what she’d just heard, Camy sat beside Duncan, curling her legs beneath her. “You play my father’s violin as if it were made for you.”

  He dipped his chin in acknowledgment and tucked the violin into the case. “I haven’t upset you, have I?”

  “Of c-course not. I didn’t know it was still around. If I had I probably would have burned it.” Tilting her head back, she looked at the stars and smiled. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

  He latched the case. “So am I.”

  She felt the warmth of his smile and glanced at him. Only parts of his face were illuminated by the light of the moon; the rest hid in the shadows. “My father used to play all the time. He sang that song to my mother, holding her hand while she took her last breaths.”

  “I am sorry.”

  She touched his forearm. “Please don’t be. It reminded me how much he had loved her.” She pulled her legs into her chest and rested her chin on her knees. “I’ve always thought he left us because of something I did. I had fallen soon after she died in childbirth and broken my arm. He yelled his frustration at how I was always getting hurt. But now I wonder if he just didn’t miss mama. Ellie and Mara have the look of her. It must have been hard to see his beloved in his daughters, and even more difficult knowing she had sacrificed her life trying to give him a son.”

  “Nevertheless, he abandoned his children.” She heard the disgust in his tone and knew he’d never abandon their children, not that there would be any, but the knowing eased her mind about their impending marriage a little more.

  “He did, but thinking that the pain he must have endured was what propelled him to leave us eases my own hurts. I can let it go and forgive him,” she said.

  And maybe lengthen the measuring stick a little in order to give grace to Duncan. For too long she’d measured all men by her father’s abandonment. Perhaps now, realizing he had suffered from a broken heart, she could see differently. Maybe even trust Duncan a little. She didn’t know why she told him what was on her mind, except that the dark made it easier to talk to him, and his playing had somehow began to heal unintentional wounds left by her father.

  “His pain almost makes me feel fortunate that I’ll never experience love, or to know it.”

  Somehow she thought the words might be wrong when they tumbled out of her mouth. Was she experiencing love right now? Unwilling to examine the question further and to dwell on the thoughts of her heart, she stood and dusted the dirt and hay from her skirt.

  Duncan rose too and grasped her fingers. She locked her knees and willed her breathing to settle.

  “You have my word, if you still wish to marry me, I’ll give you everything I can.”

  But not his heart. Disappointment struck a chord in her much like the sorrowful tune he’d just played on the violin, but it was what it was. She understood, he had his own wounds that needed healing. And she’d never expected to be loved for herself anyway. “I understand. I’ve learned to be content, and you’ve already given me more than I could ask for.”

  His brow furrowed. “What is that?”

  “The first buds of healing.” She smiled.

  “I played a song, nothing more. Nevertheless, I’m thankful I helped.”

  “Well, then, I’ll see you in the morning.” She stepped into the barn, the flickering lamplight bathing the barn in a soft glow.

  “Camy,” he said, following close behind her.

  She turned. Their shadows intermingled, becoming one. She drew in the scent of hay and livestock, and him. A scent she sank her head into every night when she lay down to sleep. She hadn’t asked to take over Ellie’s room, the room he had stayed in before moving to the barn, but because of her injury Ellie had insisted, and because her sister had insisted, Camy dreamed of the man standing before her every night. Dreamed of long walks, picnicking by the river, him reading scripture to her. And now she would, no doubt, dream of him kissing her and then playing a heartfelt song with lyrics sorrowful enough to make her weep.

  “I have business to attend in Topeka before we marry.”

  He was leaving? He was leaving her. Before they were even to be married? She clenched her fist to keep from grabbing hold of him and begging him not to go, to keep the little girl inside her from acting out just as she’d done with her da all those years ago. That little girl didn’t exist anymore, no matter how hard she pounded against the walls of Camy’s heart. Besides, they had an agreement, a contract, and she knew Duncan was a man of his word.

  “I’ll ask Hamish to stay un
til my return.”

  They didn’t need Hamish to protect them, but she wasn’t going to mention it and start an argument, lest she give in to the childish tantrum boiling inside her. He’d kept every word he’d given to her, and even though he’d keep this one, she couldn’t help the fear clawing at her insides. Tight-lipped, she said, “Good night, Mr. Murray. I’ll pray for your safe travels.”

  He grabbed her arm, spinning her around. His gaze bored into hers. The violin case bumped against her leg. “Camy, I give my word, I’ll come back, but if it would ease your mind, I’ll stay. We can go together after we speak our vows.”

  “M-Mr. Murray, you’ve made it perfectly clear our lives will be separate. Why would you take me anywhere?”

  “Because you’ll be my wife.” He drew his hand over her hair. “And I do care about your feelings, sweetheart.”

  If he cared he wouldn’t capture her heart with his kindness. The corner of her mouth quivered. The pad of his thumb wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. He pulled her into his chest, the pounding of his heart playing against her ear, reminding her of the song. She arched her neck and looked into his eyes. He dipped his head. Their lips met with a gentle brush of a feather. She melted against him and prayed he wouldn’t sever the tie binding them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What are you doing?” she asked as Hamish dumped her mother’s trunk onto the floor.

  “Ellie girl asked me to bring it in.”

  Camy tucked the needle into the shirt she’d been fixing and laid it on the table. It was the one chore she was allowed, and truthfully she was thankful, given that her shoulder continued to cause her discomfort. “Whatever for?”

  Ellie swept in on a ray of sunshine and clapped her hands together. “Before he left, Duncan asked if we had a gown for you to wear at your engagement party. Besides, I thought I’d sew a little myself.”