How to Marry a Royal Highlander

by Vanessa Kelly

  Alec had the impulse to bash his head against the stone surround of the fireplace. It would certainly hurt less than this conversation, which served no purpose but to dredge up old grievances.

  “Fergus, I haven’t forgotten one bit of our history, I assure you. How could I, since it’s been pounded into my head since the day I was born? But don’t blame the clearing of the lands entirely on the English. There are fine Scottish lords and ladies doing that now, too.”

  “That’s hardly the point—”

  “I agree,” Alec said, interrupting him. “In fact, I don’t have a bloody clue why we’re even discussing this.”

  Fergus was practically vibrating with fury. “We’re discussing it because you seem to have forgotten both where you came from and your responsibilities, especially to my sister and your family name.”

  “I wish I could forget them,” Alec couldn’t help muttering. Really, though, he just wished he could find a way to address them without making a wreck of his life and possibly Edie’s and Donella’s, too.

  His cousin fell silent for a few moments as he struggled to master his temper.

  Alec sighed. “Fergus, I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “I don’t care what you want. The only thing I care about is whether you intend to honor your obligation to my sister.”

  “Have any of you actually bothered to ask your sister what she’d like if she had only half a choice? She relishes the idea of our marriage as little as I do, although she’s reluctant to say it.”

  Fergus blinked and took a step back, clearly thrown by the question. Alec couldn’t help but shake his head. Clearly, no one in his idiotic family had ever discussed the issue with her—at least not in a way that truly took into account her feelings.

  Not that he could really complain, since he’d done the same thing until Edie straightened him out.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Fergus said. “Of course she wants to marry you. She’s spent most of her life preparing to be Countess of Riddick.”

  That was almost exactly how Donella had put it, confirming his suspicion that the family had continued to drum the foolish belief into her head during Alec’s years away. It was now so firmly established as gospel that no one seemed even capable of reconsidering it, much less rejecting it.

  “Fergus, your sister doesn’t love me,” Alec said gently. “I’m not sure she even likes me very much. Don’t you want to see her with someone who will make her happy?”

  His cousin waved an impatient hand. “Not love you? That’s stupid. What does that even mean? This is about the family and about what Donella is owed. What she deserves. And what she deserves is to be Lady of Riddick.”

  Alec’s involuntary snort had Fergus thrusting his chin up in the air.

  “It’s Donella’s rightful place,” his cousin practically snarled. “You can’t deny her that.”

  Alec struggled to hold on to the frayed ends of his temper. “I don’t think this is really about denying Donella her rightful place, is it? It’s about denying you your rightful place. Without me standing in your way, you’d be Master of Riddick right now. I think that’s what truly sticks in your craw, not this dredged up insult to your sister’s honor.”

  Fergus sucked in a sharp breath, taking another step back. His fists were still clenched, but he’d gone white, making his hair look like a blaze of red around his face.

  Alec mentally cursed. “Fergus, lad, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t bother, Alasdair,” he replied in a bitter voice, half-turning away. He gazed up at the family coat of arms over the fireplace for a few moments.

  “You know, I never doubted you,” Fergus said, “not once. You were the laird’s grandson and the rightful heir to Riddick.” He laughed, and the sound was low and grating, as if it had been wrenched from his throat. “You were my hero when we were growing up, and I wanted to be just like you, fool that I was. But then you abandoned all of us, just not Donella. Do you have any idea what that did to your grandfather? You were all he had left, and you fairly broke his heart.”

  His cousin’s pain seemed to punch a hole straight through to Alec’s own heart. Rationally, he’d always known his actions had caused anguish, but he’d had the luxury of distance to insulate himself against its effects.

  “He had you, lad,” he said past a tight throat. “I know how much that meant to him—still means to him.”

  Fergus gave an angry jerk of the head. “All that matters is that you keep your promise to all of us and marry my sister.”

  Alec shook his head. “We were children. Besides, you know very well that I never made such a promise to Donella. My grandfather and your father made that commitment, one I never agreed to.”

  Fergus stared at him with disbelief. “You’re really going to say no, aren’t you? It’s because of Miss Whitney, isn’t it?”

  Alec chose not to answer, simply returning his cousin’s glare with a steadfast gaze.

  Fergus went red, rage chasing away his pale, anguished expression. “Unbelievable. You would pick that English—”

  “Stop, Fergus,” Alec barked. “You will not say a word against Miss Whitney. In fact, you will not say another word on this subject, to me or to my grandfather. Do you understand?”

  Alec might not feel entirely comfortable in his role as rightful heir, but he knew how to command. His years in the military had taught him that. Hell, and he was the son of a royal duke.

  Fergus looked genuinely startled but then recovered. He clutched the ledgers to his chest with one arm and pointed an index finger at Alec’s nose. “You do the right thing by my sister, Alasdair. You owe her that. You owe me that.”

  Exasperated but unwilling to argue anymore, Alec simply shook his head.

  Fergus stared at him, and his gaze was filled with something that looked too close to hate. “If you dare to humiliate my sister, Alasdair, I’ll kill you. I swear I’ll kill you.”

  And on that trenchant note, he turned on his heel and stalked back the way he’d come.

  Alec had been forced to strangle his temper under control before heading to his grandfather’s library. He and the earl would likely come to verbal blows soon enough, but he wouldn’t be the one to start it.

  He closed the door behind him, pausing for a moment to take in what had once been his favorite room at Blairgal. The current library was only twenty-five years old, having been built as a grand addition to the east wing. It held one of the best private collections in Scotland in its bookcases, with leather-bound volumes lining the walls. Alec had spent a great deal of time in this room, both with his grandfather and with Walter, and by himself. Stepping into the library now was almost like stepping back into his childhood.

  His grandfather, ensconced at his desk in front of the fireplace at the far end of the room, glanced up.

  “About time you showed up, lad,” he said in his gruff tone. “I’ve been waiting all afternoon for you to grace us with your presence.”

  Alec took one of the red and gold velvet chairs in front of the desk and settled into it. “With such a gracious welcome awaiting me, perhaps you can imagine why I took my time.”

  His grandfather’s craggy features cracked a smile. “I’ll thank you to watch your lip, you young jackanapes.” He nodded in the direction of a mahogany sideboard that held an assortment of crystal decanters and glasses. “Fetch us a dram of whiskey while I finish off this letter. Try that decanter at the end. It’s a single cask from our distillery, just tapped this month.”

  Alec strolled over to the sideboard and splashed out a dram for each of them. After placing a glass on the desk for his grandfather, he settled back in his chair and held up the crystal tumbler to the sunlight that streamed in through a set of windows overlooking the valley. Shards of amber glinted from the glass, glowing with a clear, warm tint. He closed his eyes and took a sip. He could taste the peat and the fresh Highland air, and the cold, clear water of the loch.

  “It’s a grand one, isn’t it?”
/>
  Alec heard the pride in his grandfather’s voice. He opened his eyes and smiled. “I’ve never tasted anything better.”

  “And you won’t.”

  “And which distillery did this come from?” Alec asked sardonically. “The legal or illegal one?”

  Given the heavy taxes imposed by the Crown on whiskey distilleries, illegal operations outnumbered legal ones by a factor of ten to one. While Blairgal operated one of the legal ones in Scotland, Alec was well aware that a few illicit operations dotted the estate grounds as well.

  His grandfather grinned. “I’ll leave you to figure that one out by yourself.”

  He sanded and folded his letter, slipping it into a leather file. Then he settled back in his chair, giving Alec an assessing look.

  Here we go.

  “You visited Donella this afternoon, I hear,” Grandfather said. “I hope you came to some decisions.”

  A mouse couldn’t wander across Blairgal grounds without the old man knowing about it. “I take it you’re referring to my impending nuptials—nuptials I never agreed to, as you know.”

  His grandfather began to scowl. “I agreed to them on your behalf.”

  “That’s not acceptable, sir, and you know it,” he replied calmly. “I will not be forced into this, nor will I allow Donella to be forced into a marriage that doesn’t suit her.”

  His grandfather slammed down his glass, slopping whiskey onto his blotter. “And did Donella turn you down? Did she break the vow she made to her father on his deathbed?”

  “For God’s sake, Grandfather, she was barely seventeen when Uncle Angus died. Neither of you had the right to put that kind of pressure on the poor lass, regardless of the circumstances.”

  “Angus was dying,” his grandfather snapped. “He wanted to know that his daughter would be taken care of.”

  “Donella will never want for anything, as you well know,” Alec ground out. “She doesn’t need to marry against her will to secure her future.”

  “I repeat—did she refuse to marry you this afternoon?”

  Alec narrowed his gaze on the old curmudgeon. “I have no doubt you already know she didn’t.”

  Not that Donella’s answer would be a surprise to anyone at this point. After all, his family had had ten years to convince her that marriage to him was not only to her advantage, it was her bloody duty.

  His grandfather gave a satisfied grunt. “I thought not.”

  Alec tried another tack. “Grandfather, she doesn’t want to marry me. You know it, I know it, hell, everyone knows it.”

  The old man frowned. “Of course she wants to marry you. You’re the future laird.”

  “That’s not a good enough reason.”

  “It’s a bonny reason.”

  Now it was Alec’s turn to glare. “The hell it is. Donella and I barely know each other. Christ, I don’t think the girl even likes me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” His grandfather waved a hand at him. “Just look at you. You’re a braw man and a war hero, too. I’m sure you had a string of girls trailing behind you in London, all wanting to get their hands into your trews and your wallet.”

  For a few seconds, Alec was struck dumb by his grandfather’s earthy comment. The old fellow had always been a devout member of the kirk, rather more the hellfire and brimstone type than not. He couldn’t recall him ever making a rude jest.

  “Besides,” his grandfather continued, “you and Donella will have plenty of time to get to know each other once you’re married.”

  Alec leaned forward, directing his most intimidating stare at his grandfather. But the old fellow looked supremely unaffected. “I have no intention of marrying Donella, sir. And if you lot would just leave her alone, I’m sure I could make her see sense. I am quite certain my cousin has no great desire to be my wife.”

  “She has a great desire to be Countess of Riddick,” the old man said bluntly.

  Alec forced himself to pull back and think about his grandfather’s claim. It didn’t take long. “Aunt Glenna is for her, but left to her own devices, Donella wouldn’t care one way or another.”

  “Can you blame your poor aunt?” his grandfather snapped. “Of course she wants her daughter to be countess. It’s only right and fair, given what’s been denied her family.”

  Alec froze. His grandfather grimaced, then began to look uncomfortable at the slip.

  “So, it really is about that,” Alec said, shaking his head. “All the talk about clan and family loyalty—that’s bollocks. It’s really about Fergus, isn’t it?”

  And about how, in a just world, Fergus would be the heir to Riddick. Yes, Alec’s mother had been married to Walter Gilbride when she’d conceived her only child, but their marriage had been strained for months before Lady Fiona’s short-lived affair with the Duke of Kent. Only the unstinting loyalty to Fiona and her baby on the part of Walter and her father had been able to reduce the rumors to a dull rumble.

  The Earl of Riddick had always been clear that Alec was his legitimate heir, the only child of a beloved daughter whose name he safeguarded with fierce devotion. Nor had Alec ever heard his stepfather breathe an unkind or disloyal word about his wife, even though she’d so foolishly betrayed him.

  But as far as Alec was concerned, that simply proved his point about Donella. From everything he’d ever heard, Walter and his mother had been a terribly mismatched pair. He was a serious scholar, years older than the vivacious, beautiful, and spoiled young miss who’d become his wife. It had been an all-too-predictable recipe for disaster.

  Unfortunately, his grandfather was too pigheaded to see that.

  “But that’s just it, lad,” the old man said in an earnest voice. “It is all about clan and family loyalty, and what we owe to each other. What we owe to both the Haddon and Graham names.” He paused, as if collecting himself. “And, yes, it’s what we owe Fergus. It’s what you owe him.”

  A monumental frustration pushed Alec up from his chair. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to come back. All these damn half secrets and obligations were crushing them all.

  He pressed his palms onto the desk, leaning toward his grandfather. “I’d happily give up the bloody title to Fergus. We all know he’d make a much better earl than I would, anyway. Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

  It would be a legal nightmare to end all legal nightmares and the biggest scandal of the decade. But it would be worth it if he could break free of Blairgal, the title, and all the burdens that came with it.

  His grandfather sucked in a horrified gasp and fell back into his chair. “Don’t say that, Alasdair. Don’t ever say that. You’d destroy this family—Graham and Haddon, every one of us. Our names, our clan, dragged through the mud. Your mother’s name dragged through the mud, and poor Walter, the most loyal man in Scotland, made a cuckold before the entire world.”

  He raised a thin, frail hand to his face, now bleached white and looking as old as death. Even from across the massive desk, Alec could see that his grandfather’s frame was shaking like a dried oak leaf in the wind. Too late he remembered that the old man had a weak heart and suffered from spasms that might one day kill him.

  How could you forget that, you bloody fool? It’s the reason you came home in the first place.

  “Alasdair, do you really hate us that much? Do you really hate me that much?” his grandfather asked in a trembling voice, looking alarmingly close to tears.

  Alec was shocked as hell, because the old man had always been the strongest person he’d ever known. He came to his feet, speaking in a soothing voice. “Of course not, Grandfather. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. I promise that everything will be fine.”

  But would it? Without a sudden and miraculous intervention, it seemed as if Alec’s fate was all but sealed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I never thought I’d see the day when I labeled my favorite child a coward,” Mamma said. “Really, Eden, I expected better of you.”

  Edie spun around on the st
ool at her dressing table and stared at her mother with disbelief. “Good God, Mamma, what do you expect me to do? Trap the poor man in a compromising position?”

  The thought had actually crossed her mind, she was sorry to say, along with an equally strong desire to murder Alec bloody Gilbride.

  “And do you really want me to cause yet another scandal?” Edie added. “My improper behavior is the reason we’re here in this blasted castle in the first place.”

  This conversation was exactly the reason she’d been avoiding everyone for the last few days. Ever since Lord Riddick announced that Angus Graham, branch chief and uncle of Donella, would be attending a formal dinner this evening to celebrate the impending nuptials of Alec and his cousin. His lordship had casually dropped that information on the rest of them when they’d gathered before dinner two nights ago.

  It had caught Edie entirely unaware, but apparently not Alec. He’d been staring right at her, stony-faced when his grandfather gave them the news. Alec had blown out a harsh breath but made no attempt to contradict his lordship. Not that he’d had much chance, given the fact that Mrs. Haddon and the rest of the family had launched into a round of congratulations so effusive that it made Edie’s teeth ache.

  She and Mamma, of course, had been forced to join in, one of the most gruesome experiences of her life. The only person who wasn’t at their festive little gathering was the bride. Apparently Donella was home with a headache, probably from all the excitement, as her mother had crowed. Alec looked like he had a headache, too, but for different reasons. He’d seemed deeply unhappy in fact, and had grimaced when Edie had wished him and Donella well. That had been a terrible moment, and Edie hadn’t known whether to slap him, throw an epic tantrum, or burst into tears and run from the room.

  She couldn’t even be furious with him for not trying to warn her, because he had. He’d waited outside her room again, trying to catch her before she went down, but he’d barely gotten two words out of his mouth when Mamma had interrupted them. Although Edie had sensed that Alec’s talk with Donella hadn’t gone well, she’d still been knocked off her pins to know the end result.