The Heir’s Chosen Bride

by Marion Lennox

  ‘I know you’re engaged to Marcia,’ she said with asperity. ‘You really do think I’m planning on jumping you. Just because I’m a widow.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You do,’ she said, and there was no disguising the anger now. She rose and stood, glaring at him with her hands on her hips, vibrating with fury. ‘If your colleague in the next office said goodbye, have a good vacation, and kissed you, what would you have thought?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Of course not. It was what had happened. ‘Hey, Hamish is off on a vacation, can you believe that? ‘Bye, Hamish, take care.’ Kiss.

  It meant nothing. But he had to stop thinking sideways. Susie was in temper-on mode.

  ‘But because I’m a widow, everyone looks at me like I’m encroaching. Like I’m just planning how to get the next man into my bed. Like I’m every married woman’s worst enemy. Even you. It’s so unfair. I loved Rory like I’ve never loved anyone. I’m not in the market for another relationship, and hauling Marcia over here just to protect yourself… Don’t think I don’t realise what you’re doing, Hamish Douglas. There was no inkling from you that Marcia would be coming until everyone looked at us like a couple. Then you started looking like a rabbit caught in headlights. It’s just so dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb.’ She swooped down and lifted Rose into her arms.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart. We’ll go make you some dinner and leave his Lordship here in solitary splendour. In the knowledge that his virtue can remain intact for his precious Marcia. But know that even if there were a million Marcias-or do I mean if there weren’t any?-there’s no way I’m interested in you, Hamish Douglas, Not the least little bit. Not one skerrick. You leave me as cold as a flat, dead fish.’

  She turned and wheeled into the house. Hamish was left starting after her.

  Taffy looked at up him, doubtful.

  ‘I’d follow,’ he told the pup. ‘I’m a flat, dead fish.’

  Taffy hesitated a bit more but then as Hamish remained unmoving she obviously decided that maybe Hamish was right. Flat, dead fish were a bit unappetising.

  He followed Susie.

  There was absolute silence. Even the hush of the sea was fading.

  Nothing.

  A flat, dead fish.

  He should go check his e-mail. He should-

  There was a groan from the house and Susie’s head appeared at the kitchen window.

  ‘Thanks for sending Taffy inside,’ she snapped. ‘She’s done her business in the hallway. Over to you, your Lordship.’

  Great. He rose. We earls have great courage.

  Even flat, dead fish had their uses.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHAT followed were a couple of very strained days. Susie and Hamish skirted each other with extreme caution.

  They spent the mornings at the beach-well, why wouldn’t they as the beach was there and gorgeous? Taffy loved it. Rose loved it. Hamish loved it. He admitted that to himself but, hell, it was a strain. Susie was a small indignant puff of offence and she treated the beach as if they’d put a fence down the middle, with strictly segregated His and Hers zones. When he offered to take care of Rose to give her time to swim she accepted graciously-as if she was granting him a favour-but she flounced out to sea and flounced back, and ignored him in the interim.

  ‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ he told her.

  ‘You didn’t offend me. You merely implied I saw you as husband material. As nothing could be further from the truth, I believe we need to keep things formal.’

  Right. Formal.

  By the time Marcia arrived on Monday evening he was almost relieved. Anything to break the formality.

  Marcia arrived with Jake. Jake had gone up to Sydney for a one-day pain management conference, and as the times fitted perfectly, he’d offered to collect Marcia from the airport and bring her down. So at eight on Monday night Hamish strolled out to the castle forecourt to greet his fiancée.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said as she emerged from Jake’s truck. He hugged her elegantly suited body close and kissed her-so deeply that he caught her by surprise. When the kiss ended she pulled back and looked astonished.

  ‘Wow,’ she said, touching her lips like they were bruised. ‘It’s only been a few days.’

  ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Is the widow watching?’

  The widow. It took him a minute to catch that but realised, of course, Marcia would think he was playing for an audience. Since he’d implied…

  ‘Have you warned Marcia about our Susie?’ Jake asked, sounding interested, and Hamish grimaced.

  ‘I haven’t told Marcia anything.’

  ‘Only that the whole place is expecting you to marry her,’ Marcia said smoothly. ‘You might as well say it like it is, sweetheart. Keep things out in the open so there’s no misunderstanding.’

  ‘No misunderstanding,’ Jake said blankly. ‘Right.’

  ‘Um…good trip?’ Hamish said, feeling desperate. ‘Have you two found lots to talk about?’

  ‘I slept all the way,’ Marcia said. She turned to Jake and gave him her loveliest smile, which was only slightly patronising. ‘Thank you so much. I’m afraid I was very boring.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Jake told her politely. ‘I’ll leave you to your Hamish, then, shall I?’

  ‘That would be kind.’ Peasantry dismissed.

  ‘Right, then,’ Jake said, and with a wry grin he folded his long body back into the driver’s seat of his battered Land Cruiser, gave a salute of acknowledgement and left.

  ‘That was a bit brusque,’ Hamish said, frowning as Jake backed out of the forecourt. ‘Did you two not find anything to talk about at all?’

  ‘Honestly, darling, he’s a family doctor. I don’t even have any bunions to talk about.’

  ‘I guess not.’

  Marcia was out of her territory, he thought, suppressing irritation. She wasn’t normally this brittle. Maybe she was just better among her own kind.

  He was her kind, he remembered. This was the woman he intended marrying. He loved her cool, sophisticated humour. She was so intelligent…

  ‘So where’s the widow?’ she asked.

  ‘Inside. I’ll take you to meet her.’

  But she hung back, taking a moment to absorb the whole moonlit scene, the fairy-tale castle, the mountains behind, the fabulous coastline.

  ‘This will sell for a mint,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, Hamish, imagine this in Vogue Traveller. Your own little Scottish castle without all those horrid fogs and bogs and midges of Scotland.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Scotland,’ he said, and startled himself by how fervent he sounded.

  ‘You’ve never been to Scotland.’

  ‘No, but I’m a direct descendant…’

  She gave a peal of laughter and tucked her hand into his arm. ‘You’ve become the Lord of Loganaich,’ she said affectionately. ‘My very own earl, defending the land of his forebears. Any minute now you’ll be up on the turrets playing your bagpipes.’

  He grinned, relaxing a little. ‘I do wear a mean kilt.’

  ‘This I have to see.’

  ‘You need to meet Susie first.’

  ‘The widow. OK, let’s get the scary part over and then get down to the fun part. This place sounded good on paper but in reality… Wow! Let’s figure what this pile is really worth!’

  The meeting between Susie and Marcia was not an unqualified success. Susie was in the kitchen, cleaning up. She greeted Marcia with cautious courtesy. Marcia responded in kind-while clinging to Hamish’s arm with proprietorial affection-and then Susie excused herself.

  ‘There’s steak in the fridge, Hamish, if Marcia’s hungry. I’d cook it but-’

  ‘But I do a better steak than you do,’ Hamish told her, smiling encouragingly. Wishing she didn’t look so tense. Wishing he hadn’t told Marcia there was a problem.

  Wishing Marcia wasn’t clinging quite so close.

  ‘I’ll go to bed, then,’ Susie said, and Marcia glanced at her watch, asto
nished.

  ‘It’s only eight.’

  ‘Susie’s recovering from injuries,’ Hamish said, and then wished he hadn’t said that as well, as Susie flashed him a look of anger.

  ‘I’m not recovering from injuries. I’m recovered from injuries.’

  ‘You limp,’ Marcia pointed out, and Susie glowered a bit and limped her way past them.

  ‘So I do,’ she agreed. ‘It’s my own little idiosyncrasy. But I like it. I’m going to bed to read a good romance novel and I don’t intend to recover at all. Hamish, you need to show Marcia through the castle. I’ll bet she’s interested in your inventory. And when you’ve finished… Marcia, could you let me know when this hotel assessor’s expected, as I need to organise myself to leave? Good night.’

  Taffy was snoozing by the stove. Susie scooped her up, glared at the pair of them and left.

  ‘Have I offended her?’ Marcia asked, and Hamish sighed.

  ‘I guess…I mean, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to imply there was a problem.’

  ‘What do you mean? Her limp? It’s obvious. She can’t expect me not to notice.’

  That wasn’t the problem he’d been talking about. ‘Never mind. Are you hungry?’

  ‘Actually, I ate on the way here and I’m very tired. Maybe the widow has a good idea with early bed.’ She snuggled back against him. ‘Where are we sleeping?’

  ‘I’ve put you in the bedroom next to mine. Come and I’ll show you.’

  ‘Not yours?’

  ‘Um, no. It just seems…’

  ‘A bit mean?’ Marcia was struggling to understand. ‘Honey, if she really wants you, then the faster she comes to terms with reality the better.’

  ‘It’s not like that. It just… Marcia, it seems like this is Susie’s home and I’d like it to stay that way until we leave. I think…separate bedrooms.’

  She raised a cool eyebrow. ‘Well, that’s fine with me. I have a date with my laptop. I’ve missed so much, trying to get here. There won’t be a romance novel for me in bed tonight.’

  Hamish slept late. Hours late by his standards. He always woke early in New York to find the latest on the Hang Seng before he went to work. As he was always behind his desk by seven, that meant he went to bed in the small hours and he woke in the small hours. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d fallen into bed at ten and slept for more than eight hours.

  But here… It was the silence of the place, he thought, or that there was no desk waiting and Jodie had cancelled his imperatives.

  He woke and it was already seven-thirty. He lay lazily back on his mound of satin pillows and watched the early morning sunbeams flicker through the floating dreamcatcher Deirdre had hung at the window. Jodie had hung a dreamcatcher on the window of his outer office back in Manhattan. He’d asked her what it was and she’d explained the ludicrous concept in detail.

  Susie might not think it ludicrous, he thought. Jodie hadn’t. Deirdre obviously hadn’t.

  He needed Marcia to set him right. She’d be up by now. He should go find her.

  But his thoughts kept wandering, snagging different ideas like the dreamcatcher was designed to do.

  Where was Jodie was right now? he wondered. Was she making choir stalls with her beloved Nick? He’d miss his secretary when he went back.

  When he went back. When he left here.

  When he left Susie.

  Susie was leaving first.

  Maybe he could keep in touch with Susie, he thought. Just to check that she was OK. He’d tell Kirsty and Jake that he’d keep an eye on her.

  She’d throw such an offer back in his face, he decided. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her.

  But he rejected that, too. Of course she needed someone. She thought she was strong enough to care for a baby and a dog and a career. She was planning on working as a landscape gardener again, but anyone could see she had physical problems. Her legs would never hold her up.

  He could… He could…

  He could do nothing. It was none of his business.

  More lying on his satin pillows and thinking. He was head of the clan, he thought. Lord of Loganaich. Laird. It behoved him to care for…

  For the relic?

  The thought of Susie as a relic was so crazy he laughed and threw off his covers and headed for the shower. He was being dumb. He’d go and find Marcia and show her this crazy castle from stem to stern. They’d smile about how ridiculous it was, they’d talk about practicalities and then she’d bring him up to speed on how the office was coping without him. Marcia was just what he needed.

  Right.

  Marcia was already in the kitchen. As were Susie and Rose and Taffy. Quite a party. Hamish opened the door and they all turned toward him and glared.

  Uh-oh.

  A more cowardly man would have retreated. There were obviously issues abroad here. Women’s issues?

  ‘We have,’ Susie said cautiously, as if she wasn’t sure she could trust her voice, ‘no soy milk. We have a case of bananas but they’re the wrong sort of fruit. Cumquats make the wrong sort of juice and the oranges aren’t ripe yet. And Marcia doesn’t like the idea of eating strawberries that have been lying on mulch. If you’d warned me Marcia was on a low-carb diet I could have got things in.’

  ‘Low carb’s easy,’ he said, cautious as Susie and with a wary look at his beloved. ‘I mean, steak’s low carb.’

  ‘Steak for breakfast?’ Marcia shook her head in disbelief. ‘Honestly, Hamish, just lend me your car keys and I’ll go fetch what I need from the supermarket.’

  ‘It’s five miles down the road and it doesn’t open until nine,’ Hamish said. ‘Can’t you have toast?’

  ‘The locals eat porridge,’ Susie said, lifting a pot onto the range. ‘I can recommend it.’

  ‘It’s hardly low carb,’ Marcia retorted.

  ‘Hey, Marcia, it’s hardly a hotel yet,’ Hamish said uneasily. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to break your diet for a morning.’

  ‘I’d prefer not to break my diet,’ Marcia said, but she smiled, ready to be accommodating. ‘It’s OK, guys. I’m not hungry.’

  ‘You’re too thin,’ Susie muttered.

  ‘A woman can never be too thin.’

  ‘Yeah, you’d know,’ Susie muttered, and banged her pan on the range. Then she took a grip. ‘Sorry. That sort of just came out. I was too thin for a while and it’s scary.’

  ‘I have no intention of heading down the eating disorder road,’ Marcia said. ‘I have too much control.’

  ‘I’m sure you have,’ Susie said, but the eyes she turned on Hamish were suddenly bleak. ‘I’ve made a big pot of porridge. Do you want some?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ It was the least a man could do in the circumstances, he thought, but then he saw the sudden gleam behind Susie’s eyes and thought, Uh-oh.

  ‘A porridge-eating laird,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Finally.’

  ‘I’m back on toast tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m sure you are.’ There was definitely laughter there now. She was like a chameleon, he thought. Swinging from happy to sad and back again.

  He didn’t want her to be sad. Had she been too thin? When? After Rory’s death? Hell, he hated to think of what she’d been through.

  ‘Have you been working up in your bedroom?’ Marcia asked, and he blinked.

  ‘Um…yeah.’

  ‘Did you see the Euro dropped almost two cents against the greenback overnight?’

  ‘And Taffy slept till dawn without howling once,’ Susie added. ‘It has indeed been a busy night.’

  He couldn’t keep up with this conversation. He gave up and sat, and Susie placed a bowl of porridge in front of him. He ladled honey on top, and cream, and he sprinkled it with cinnamon, as he’d seen Susie do with hers every morning, while Marcia looked on with distaste.

  ‘Don’t look,’ he told her. ‘Have a coffee.’

  ‘At least there’s a decent coffee-maker,’ she conceded. ‘Though where you get good beans…you know, that�
�ll drive down the price of this place as a hotel. You won’t be able to source reasonable foodstuffs.’

  ‘I’m eating my porridge out in the garden,’ Susie announced, a little too loudly. She lifted Rose’s high chair-with Rose in it-and hoisted it toward the door.

  ‘Let me help,’ Hamish said, getting to his feet, but Susie was already outside.

  ‘Thanks, but I’m fine on my own.’

  ‘You will let me help you down to the beach later on?’

  She hesitated, and he could see her reluctance to accept help warring with her huge desire to swim.

  ‘Thank you,’ she muttered. ‘That would be…nice.’ She carried Rose further out, then dived back for her porridge.

  ‘Susie…’ Marcia started, but Susie was back out the door.

  ‘I can’t leave Rose in her high chair alone.’

  ‘I just thought you might be interested…’

  ‘In what?’

  ‘I’ve been in touch with the hotel assessors,’ she said. ‘They’ll arrive tomorrow. Can you make yourself available?’

  Susie hardly paused. She was carrying her bowl of porridge, walking out the door with Taffy following loyally behind.

  ‘Of course,’ she said with dignity over her shoulder. ‘I promised. And after that I’ll go home.’

  Marcia took her Blackberry to the beach. ‘Hey, there’s a signal here,’ she announced, and was content. She lay in her gorgeous bikini and communed with her other world.

  As he should, too, Hamish thought, but he was busy watching Susie. He’d swum less than usual this morning, coming back to the towels to keep Marcia company-but Marcia didn’t need company. She never did. She was going to make an excellent partner, he decided as he sat next to her beautifully salon-tanned body. She was gorgeous, she was clever and she was totally independent.

  She was just what he needed.

  Susie was at the other end of the beach-of course. She was sitting in the shallows with Rose. Rose was perched on her mother’s knees, kicking out at each approaching wave, as if by kicking it she could stop it coming.

  Taffy was barking hysterically at incoming waves, barking until the wave was almost on her then putting her tail between her legs and scooting up the beach just in front of the white water. Then she barked in triumph as the wave retreated-only to have it all happen again.