The thin servant—a nursemaid, he assumed—led the lad down the steps. The coachman took the satchel, then opened the door and gave them a hand up.
The lad scrambled up into the coach, his nursemaid following.
"Oh, a good morn to you, sir," the middle-aged servant said and took a seat on the opposite padded bench.
"Good morn." Rebbie's gaze strayed to Calla's son and his dark brown eyes. God's blood! He felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. 'Twas like looking at one of the many paintings his father had commissioned when Rebbie had been that age. "What the…" Blazing hell, he'd almost said aloud. The lad watched him with wide, curious eyes so like his own.
Damnation! The lad looked exactly like him.
Was Jamie his son? Had Calla been keeping the truth from him the entire time?
Rebbie sucked in a deep breath. "Jamie?"
He nodded. "Who're you?" he asked in a high-pitched child's voice.
"I'm Rebbie. A friend of your mum's."
The lad frowned, as if trying to figure that out. Rebbie was doing the same. Surely she hadn't done what he thought she had. But the longer he observed the lad, the more his stomach knotted. Why the devil hadn't she told him?
"How old are you, lad?"
"Six summers. My birthday was the third."
'Slud. He'd thought he and Calla had been together five years ago, but it must have been closer to seven. Or was Rebbie imagining things? Maybe the lad wasn't his. What the hell? Was he going mad?
"How old are you?" Jamie asked.
Despite the anger simmering in his blood at Calla, not to mention the confusion, Rebbie forced a pleasant expression onto his face. "Twenty-eight summers."
"That's old."
"Aye." Rebbie couldn't stop himself from smiling. Damnation, but the lad was endearing.
"But not as old as my da," Jamie said.
Instantly sobering, Rebbie nodded.
"But he's not here. Ma said he went to Heaven."
"I was sorry to hear about that. Do you miss him?"
The lad nodded, faint tears glistening in his eyes. Hell, Rebbie hoped he didn't cry, for he couldn't take it. The lad near broke his heart already, and he'd only known him for a couple of minutes.
"I ken that had to be hard for you."
Jamie nodded and glanced down at the carved dog in his hand. "He brought me this the last time I saw him."
"'Tis very nice. Is that a deerhound?"
"Aye. His name is Robert."
Rebbie snorted with unexpected laughter, but tried to hold it in. Good Lord.
The lad frowned at him, looking a bit insulted and hurt.
"That's one of my names—Robert. That's why I thought 'twas funny."
"Oh." A wee smile peeked through the tears drying at the corners of his eyes. "I didn't know I named my dog after you."
"Aye, well, you're a bright and canny lad."
"How many names do you have?"
"Several. How about you?"
"Aye. James Paul Charles Angus Ferguson, Earl of Stanbury, Baron…" Jamie twisted up his mouth and frowned at the ceiling. "I forgot the rest."
Rebbie chuckled. "'Tis a lot to remember." How on earth could this be happening? Was he still asleep and having some sort of warped fantastical dream? Or was it a nightmare?
The footman helped Calla into the coach and closed the door. He frowned but she didn't look his way. She sat beside Jamie and the servant on the opposite seat.
"I've missed you so, Jamie." After hugging him, she coddled and fussed over the lad, kissing him, straightening his hair and clothing. 'Twas clear she loved him with all her heart. Rebbie stared out the window, hardly able to watch such a tender display of affection. And at the same time, fury near strangled him. After what they'd shared over the last several days, how could she have kept this from him?
"Did you meet Laird Rebbinglen?" she asked as the coach jolted into motion.
"He said his name is Rebbie. And Robert, like my dog." Jamie giggled.
"Aye, but you must show him respect and call him Laird Rebbinglen."
"'Tis not necessary." Rebbie flicked a glance at her. "I don't mind if the lad calls me Rebbie. All my friends do." Even though the lad should have been calling him Da.
Calla watched him with uncertainty now. "Very well. If 'tis what you prefer."
"Aye." He near growled the word.
"Where are we going?" Jamie asked.
"To visit with some friends."
"Are we going to stay with Rebbie?" Jamie looked positively exuberant as he waited for the answer. Did that mean the lad wanted to stay with him? God's teeth! His heart ached with sudden longing. He hadn't even gotten to see his own son as a babe.
"Um… well, Rebbie and several more friends will be there, aye?"
"Along with some lads about your age," Rebbie said, refusing to look at Calla any longer. It hurt too much.
Jamie's eyes widened. "Can I play with them?"
"Of course, sweeting," she said.
The lad grinned and slid off the seat. "How long 'til we get there?"
"An hour or two," Calla said, dragging him back onto the seat. "Come. You must sit while we ride."
Rebbie watched the exchange, their every interaction like a tiny knife stab to his chest. The lad was his son. He knew it to the marrow of his bones! How could Calla have betrayed him like that? She'd let Stanbury believe the lad was his. She'd stolen Rebbie's son for that bastard. His muscles tensed and he wanted to smash something.
Chapter Eighteen
As Rebbie descended from the coach without a word and closed the door, Calla's heart leapt into her throat. Oh dear God, he knew. And he was furious.
How had he figured it out? Did Jamie look that much like him, even with the dark blond hair? Of course, he did. She squeezed her eyes shut. She'd known this would happen. Her worst fears realized.
"Where's he going?" Jamie asked.
"To ride his horse."
"I want to see it." He scurried to the window and looked out, then gasped. "'Tis a huge black horse, Ma!"
"Aye. Come sit down, love." She moved to the seat Rebbie had vacated to give Morna, the nursemaid, more room. Morna had been Jamie's nursemaid since he was a babe and Calla trusted her to give her son the best of care. Glenhaven had insisted on keeping her on and paying her wages while Jamie stayed with him.
Calla grasped Jamie's clothing just as the coach surged forward, then hauled him onto the seat beside her.
"Do you think he'll let me ride his horse?" Jamie asked.
"I don't think so." She smiled sadly.
"Why not?" He frowned.
"You're not big enough yet."
"Aye, but I could ride with him!"
"'Twould not be safe." She shook her head, knowing full well Rebbie didn't want to have to deal with Jamie. Mayhap he didn't even like children. She didn't know.
"I'm going to ask him," Jamie said willfully and crossed his arms over his chest.
Calla released a long breath. "Very well, but when he tells you nay, don't come crying to me."
"I'm not going to cry, Ma," he said as if such a thing were ridiculous and he were merely a small adult.
"Good."
But chances were she would cry. Her eyes already burned and her heart ached. What must Rebbie think of her? He hated her, surely. Only moments after he'd said he loved her.
She had been stunned when he'd confessed his feelings in the coach earlier. Aye, stunned, but also thrilled beyond measure, for she loved him to an irrational degree. At times, he made all else seem unimportant. He stole her reason and her sanity, making her want to wrap herself about him and never let go.
But she could not do that.
She'd simply made the wrong decision, becoming intimate with him again, allowing him to break down her defensive walls… introducing him to Jamie.
Now all was at risk.
***
Rebbie was hellishly restless as he rode Devil behind the coach, and the horse obviously
sensed his tension as he danced about beneath him, tossed his head and snorted. Plus, Devil wanted his wild run across the fields and moor, but he would have to wait.
Rebbie still couldn't believe the lad might be his son. Why would she keep such a secret from him? Of course, she hadn't known his name or where to find him prior to their meeting again at Draughon, but since then, she'd had ample time and opportunity to say, oh, by the by, we have a son.
Damnation, that had been the big secret she'd kept from him all along. He muttered a curse under his breath. Something had told him not to trust her, but he hadn't listened. He'd been too damned bewitched by her. And her husband… she'd well and truly duped him. Of course, 'twas the way it was done in their circles. Any bairn a lady had was her husband's child. No questions asked… most of the time.
But he intended to ask questions, dozens of them.
Had that been her intention all along—for him to get her with child—or had it been an accident? For some reason, he'd thought she already had a child when they spent the night together. But nay, now that he thought about it, her body had been that of a slender girl. Certainly, she'd been beautiful and appealing, but since then, her body had become enticingly curvy. Had those changes come about because she'd carried his child? He cursed his own gullibility. He hadn't wanted to see the truth.
Surely, she'd used him.
"Are you well?" Lachlan asked, riding up alongside him.
"Splendid. And you?"
Eyeing him, Lachlan frowned. "'Haps you noticed something when you met the lad, something that I also noticed the first time I saw him a few days ago."
Rebbie glared at him. "Aye, I damned well noticed. Why didn't you warn me?"
"I didn't know if itwas true. Besides, 'tis not my business. I just noticed you seemed out of sorts."
"'Slud," Rebbie said through clenched teeth. A slow seething rage still crawled along his veins.
"She hadn't mentioned it?"
"Nay," Rebbie practically growled. "She has a hell of a lot of explaining to do."
Lachlan nodded.
Had Stanbury been good to the lad? He must have been if the lad missed him and grew sad about his passing.
Once they were back at Draughon, he would discuss it with her. And he'd stop at naught but the truth.
But what if the lad wasn't his? What if he'd imagined all the similarities? He couldn't have if even Lachlan saw it.
"You noticed the resemblance?" Rebbie asked, just to be certain, keeping his voice low.
"Of course. A man would have to be blind not to. His eyes, his wee face. The way he grins just like you." Lachlan shrugged.
Aye, had to be. Rebbie's eyes were not playing tricks on him.
The coach in front of them drew to a stop and, a moment later, Calla helped Jamie out.
Rebbie rode toward them. "What's going on?"
"He has to… make use of the bushes." She rushed the lad into the vegetation beside the road.
Not knowing whether to laugh or gnash his teeth, Rebbie shook his head and dismounted to wait for them. Calla took him herself rather than sending the servant to do the dirty work? Saints, 'twas easy to see she loved the lad more than life itself. That knowledge made his chest ache, for the lad was a part of him, surely.
Moments later, they emerged from the bushes, Jamie tilting his head back and peering up at Rebbie and Devil. "Will you take me for a ride on your horse?" Jamie's high-pitched voice clawed at Rebbie's heart. So damned adorable, Rebbie wanted to embrace him, lift him into the air and sit him atop his shoulder. But he couldn't do that. Not now.
"Jamie," Calla chided. "He doesn't have time for things like that."
He glared at her but she wisely kept her gaze on Jamie.
"Aye," Rebbie responded. "Once we get back to Draughon, I'll take you for a ride."
"You will?" Jamie squealed and jumped up and down.
Unable to help himself, Rebbie grinned. "Do you like horses, lad?"
"Aye! 'Tis the biggest horse I ever saw. What's his name?"
"Devil."
The lad's eyes widened and his gaze darted with uncertainty to his ma.
"He's not a real devil," Rebbie said. "'Tis only his name."
"Oh."
"'Tis time for us to get back into the coach." Calla guided the lad forward and Rebbie opened the door.
Observing the lad's hand, Rebbie noticed that Jamie's wee fingernails were the same shape as his own. Damnation. His stomach knotted. He was at once terrified and thrilled. He'd never truly imagined having children… because they went with marriage. And he'd never wanted to get married. He'd always told himself he wasn't the marrying kind, that he would marry when he inherited his da's marquess title.
Mayhap having a son wouldn't be such a horrible thing. Especially this wee lad. He was bright and had a good sense of humor. Plus, he had a natural love of horses, just as Rebbie did. He wasn't precocious and annoying like some spoiled aristocratic children he'd met.
Rebbie closed the door and mounted Devil.
Indeed, he was ready for some answers from Calla.
***
Back at Draughon Castle, everyone poured into the great hall.
"I thank you for allowing them to stay here for their protection," Rebbie said in a low voice to Lachlan. Although he was furious with Calla, he still wanted her and the lad to be safe.
"Of course. I'm more than happy to help out. I wouldn't wish either of them to be hurt by that bastard."
Lachlan eyed the lad again, across the room. "Has she told you anything yet?" Lachlan gave Rebbie an inquiring glance.
"Nay, but he looks damn near exactly like me." Rebbie blew out a harsh breath and glanced around. He was glad to see his father was not in the room. Without doubt, as soon as he got a good look at the lad, he would notice the resemblance. "I need to talk to her in private forthwith."
"Use the solar if you wish." He glanced back at Jamie, then grinned. "Och, would you look at that? He's already off to play with the other lads."
Rebbie nodded, glad to see Jamie was getting along with Lachlan's two sons, Kean and Orin, as well as Angelique's wee half-brother, Timmy, and Gwyneth's son, Rory. They were all near the same age.
Seeing Calla alone moments later, Rebbie moved toward her. "Can we talk?" he asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.
"Aye." She swallowed hard and avoided his gaze.
"I'll meet you in the solar in a quarter hour."
"Very well." Her skin pale, she pressed her lips tightly together.
She looked terrified and he was unsure how he felt about that. He didn't want her to fear him—he would never harm her—he but wanted the truth.
***
Calla's stomach ached so severely with anxiety, she near felt sick. She hadn't wanted to hurt Rebbie, nor anger him. Her life was in such disarray, she didn't think it would ever be normal again, or happy.
Stiffening her spine, she strode into the solar and closed the door, seeing that Rebbie was already there, pacing before the cold fireplace.
He stopped and watched her, his glare pinning her to the spot. "What the devil is going on, Calla?" he demanded.
Having never seen him so angry, she remained by the door. "What do you mean?"
"Don't." He pointed, then apparently forcing himself to remain calm, he inhaled deeply and clenched his jaw. "I want the truth. Either I'm completely daft or that lad is my son. Now which is it?"
Fear prickled through her like needles of ice. He didn't know; he was only guessing. "Why… why would you say such a thing?"
His sharp glare speared into her. "He has eyes the same color as mine."
"Stanbury had dark brown eyes."
Rebbie clenched his jaw. "The lad looks exactly as I did at that age."
"Surely you cannot remember such a thing." Her breathing grew shallow and she knew she was grasping at straws.
"My father had portraits of me commissioned. Several of them. Once my father sees him, he'll know the truth of it as
well."
Oh heavens. Laird Kilverntay was the last person on earth she wanted to know about Jamie. What would he do? Report it to the other members of parliament? Ruin her and Jamie? She clutched her jittery hands together. "I must go see to Jamie."
"Calla," Rebbie growled. "I'll tolerate no more lies from you! Did you… choose me that night because I have dark eyes? Was your intention to…? Hell, I don't even want to say it. You used me. Did you not?"
Her soul stripped bare, she had naught left but the truth. "He was going to kill me," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.
"What?"
"Stanbury was going to kill me if I didn't produce an heir for him," she said louder and swiped at the tear that escaped.
"What do you mean? He threatened you?"
She nodded. "He said he had no need for a barren wife. That I would find myself flying from the third floor bedchamber window. He told the staff to watch me, that I was distraught, and he feared I would throw myself out the window. 'Twas not true but they all thought I was half mad. He gave me one month's time, and if I hadn't conceived before then, he would've pushed me out the window himself."
"That bastard," Rebbie growled through clenched teeth.
"I was only eighteen summers at the time," Calla said, hoping Rebbie would understand. Hoping he would not hate her. "My maid told me 'twas likely Stanbury was unable to sire a bairn, for he'd had two other wives but no children. She gave me the idea about what to do. I didn't want to. I've felt horrible about committing adultery and deceiving you, but… I love Jamie so much, I don't regret it." She looked Rebbie in the eye, hoping he believed her now, for she told the complete truth. "That night with you was amazing, the best of my life. I told myself if nothing else in my life is ever good again, at least I have those two things—my beloved son, and the memory of that night with you. And that would be enough." She swallowed hard. "I thank you for both."
Rebbie closed his eyes and tilted his head back as if in utter misery. "Why the hell didn't you tell me this during the past couple of weeks… while we were at Tummel Castle? Or even last night?"
She shook her head. "I couldn't. Don't you see?"
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