To Wed A Wild Scot

by Bradley, Anna

  A picture of her lively, dark-eyed niece flashed through her mind, and her heart swelled with pride and love. If Grace were sent to live with Lord Cowden, Juliana would never forgive herself.

  She turned her attention back to Logan Blair, her face carefully blank. “Either you agree to marry me, or Fitzwilliam and I will leave Castle Kinross at once, and be back in England before two weeks have passed.”

  Mr. Blair’s face remained expressionless, but his fingers tightened on the arm of his chair. “So, you wouldn’t hesitate to rip Fitz from the arms of the woman he loves and force him into a marriage with you, even though you know he doesn’t love you?”

  “It’s you who will be the cause of Fitzwilliam losing the lady he loves, not me. I don’t like you, Mr. Blair. I don’t trust you, and I don’t want to marry you, but I’m willing to do it so Fitzwilliam can be with Emilia. It’s a pity you aren’t willing to do as much for your own brother.”

  “You don’t have any idea what I’m willing to do.”

  Juliana suppressed a shiver. “Oh, I think I do. You’ve already confessed to being a thief, and you’re guilty of a disgraceful invasion of my privacy. I can’t suppose you’d hesitate to do worse. Indeed, even now you appear to be threatening me.”

  “No, no threats, but I do think you should be made aware of how many people you’ll hurt if you insist on marrying my brother.”

  The tone of his voice, the look on his face when he said those words made the hair on the back of Juliana’s neck rise. Her threat to take Fitzwilliam away should have ended this battle, but Mr. Blair wasn’t finished.

  He knew something. Something she didn’t.

  She swallowed. “I already told you, I have no desire to hurt Fitzwilliam or his betrothed, but—”

  “No, I don’t think you do wish to hurt them. But I’m not referring to Fitz or Emilia.” He paused, his blue eyes glittering. “I’m referring, Lady Juliana, to their child.”

  Juliana went still, her heart shrinking in her chest.

  Their child…

  They were the last two words she heard before the roaring in her head drowned out every other sound, every thought.

  Fitzwilliam was having a child. He was in love with his betrothed, and they were having a child together. A child as sweet and intelligent as Grace, perhaps, with Fitzwilliam’s blue eyes and his beautiful smile. A child Juliana would love as much as she loved Grace, because Fitzwilliam’s child would be her niece as surely as Grace was. Hadn’t Juliana always considered Fitzwilliam her brother, as much as she did Jonathan?

  A child who deserved a father…

  Mr. Blair was saying something to her. She could see his mouth moving, but the words couldn’t reach beyond the noise in her head. He reached for her, his eyes dark with concern, but Juliana shook her head and snatched her hand away.

  Couldn’t he see it was over?

  He’d inflicted the deepest wound, drawn the most blood.

  He’d won.

  There was nothing left to say.

  Chapter Seven

  Fitz was waiting for him by the library door. As soon as he saw Logan, his face fell. “You don’t look like a man who’s happily betrothed.”

  “I’m not.” Logan leaned against the door and tipped his head back against the wood. If he’d had any lingering hope he wasn’t the blackguard he suspected himself to be, Fitz’s anguished expression shattered it.

  Logan had known he’d emerge from the battle of wills with Lady Juliana the victor. What he hadn’t known was instead of feeling triumphant, he’d be heartily ashamed of himself.

  “Unhappily betrothed, then?” Fitz asked hopefully.

  “Not that, either.”

  Fitz’s expression went bleaker still. “How’s Lina?”

  How was she? She was much as you’d expect a lady to be when her last hope had been brutally crushed. Logan thought of her pale, frozen face, the blankness in her eyes, and he couldn’t prevent a shudder of remorse. “Worse than I am.”

  Fitz dragged a hand through his hair. “What a bloody mess. I realize things have been tense between us, but I never imagined you’d…stealing our letters, Logan? How could you do this?”

  Logan could have offered any number of excuses for his actions. He could have told Fitz a few burned letters had seemed trivial enough compared to dozens of burned farmhouses. He could have said the lives of hundreds of people had been more important to him than the future of one lady who had her pick of every peer in London. He could have explained he hadn’t understood how dire Lady Juliana’s circumstances were—that he regretted the trouble he’d caused. He might even have said he’d done what he’d been taught to do since he was a child at their father’s knee.

  Whatever he must to protect the land, and the clan.

  Instead, he remained silent. He’d had his reasons, but they didn’t excuse what he’d done. He could argue all he wanted, but it didn’t make him any less responsible for Lady Juliana’s predicament.

  He’d been under no illusions when he stole those letters. He’d known it was a despicable thing to do, and he’d done it anyway. He hadn’t bothered to consider that one bad act would have endless repercussions, like ripples of water after a tossed stone. He hadn’t spared a single thought for Lady Juliana’s future.

  Fitz was pacing back and forth in front of the library door. “Lina has a claim on you, Logan. You’re the reason she’s in this mess. As a man of honor, you’re obliged to see her out of it. A marriage between you—”

  “Would be a disaster. You can’t believe otherwise.”

  Fitz let out a bitter laugh. “You’ll get no argument from me. I can’t imagine Lina’s any happier about a marriage between you than you are. You don’t deserve her, after what you’ve done. But I don’t see any way around it. If you have a better idea, please do enlighten me.”

  “She could marry one of the men from the clan.” Logan had been turning this idea over in his head all evening. “Duncan Muir, perhaps, or Kincaid’s eldest son, Brodie. They’re both gentlemen, and men of education—”

  “No. It won’t do. If Lina’s father doesn’t approve her choice the marriage won’t do her any good at all, and I can assure you the Marquess of Graystone won’t settle for an obscure, untitled Scotsman for his only daughter’s husband.”

  “If he won’t settle for Duncan or Brodie, then he won’t settle for me. I don’t have a title, and I’m as obscure as either of them.”

  “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.” Fitz gave him a thin smile. “You’re the brother of the current Duke of Blackmore, nephew to the previous duke, and your mother was daughter to a duke. Bloody dukes everywhere, going back for generations. You may like to think of yourself as an obscure Scotsman, Logan, but your bloodlines say otherwise, and of course our family’s fortune is considerable. Lina has a far better chance of reconciling her father to a marriage with you than with any other gentleman.”

  “Even so, I doubt the Marquess of Graystone will find the Duke of Blackmore’s brother as impressive as the duke himself.”

  “Oh, there’s little doubt he’d rather have me, especially considering my long-standing betrothal to Lina, but a duke’s brother is nothing to sniff at. With a letter of recommendation from me, you’ll—”

  “A letter of recommendation!” Logan scowled. “You think I need a recommendation from you to be considered a gentleman?”

  Fitz shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”

  Logan dragged a weary hand down his face. Christ, how had he gotten himself into such a mess? Why couldn’t Lady Juliana have remained in England and married Lord Pierce as she’d planned to?

  The trouble was, Fitz was right. She did have a claim on him. He’d dragged her into this, and she had a right to expect him to get her out of it. Before he sat down on the sofa across from her tonight he hadn’t had any intention of marrying her. Now, he wasn�
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  But a marriage, a move to England, so far away from his clan…

  He owed his people far more than he owed Lady Juliana. He’d promised his father he’d do everything he could to ensure their safety, and a promise to his father outweighed any claims Lady Juliana might have on him.

  He couldn’t abandon the clan now, not when he’d finally found a way to help them.

  After he’d witnessed the devastation in Strathnaver, Logan had purchased a large parcel of land in Cape Fear Valley, at the southern tip of North Carolina. For the past few years he’d been funding a migration of the heartier members of Clan Kinross there, setting them up to successfully pursue a new life in North America. For those not strong enough to make the journey he’d searched out places in the Scottish Lowlands and in northern England where they might settle.

  Slowly, one family at a time, Logan was clearing out sections of Kinross land.

  It wasn’t what he wanted. Everything inside him rebelled at separating the clan, but after a good deal of internal struggle, he’d admitted to himself he hadn’t any choice. At the time, he didn’t know if the new Laird of Clan Kinross would evict his tenants to make way for sheep farms, just as the Countess of Sutherland and the Marquess of Graystone had done. If he did, there would be nothing Logan could do to stop him.

  Even if the new laird chose to be merciful, there was little hope the clan would flourish if they remained here. There were simply too many people, and not enough food or land to sustain them all. The clan system had disintegrated after the Jacobite Rebellion—the British Crown had seen to that—and there was no sense in pretending otherwise. The best thing Logan could do for his people was to see them settled in prosperous circumstances.

  Not everyone wanted to go. He had no intention of driving them off if they preferred to stay—there would be no forced evictions on Kinross land—but he’d managed to persuade about half of them to voluntarily relocate. Their land would then be enclosed to make larger farms for sheep grazing, and the profits used to sustain the rest of the clan.

  The clan had warmed to Fitz since he’d become betrothed to Emilia, but in their eyes, Logan was still their laird. Fitz might try to persuade some of them to relocate, but what if they didn’t trust him enough yet to rely on his word?

  Logan straightened away from the door and faced Fitz. “I can see what a bloody mess I’ve made, but marriage to a lady I don’t know, and a move to England, hundreds of miles away from Scotland, Fitz? There has to be another way.”

  Fitz’s face went hard. “There is. If you won’t marry her, then I will.”

  Logan shook his head. “She won’t have you.”

  “What the devil does that mean? Of course, she’ll have…” Fitz’s eyes narrowed. “You told her about the child, didn’t you?”

  Logan flinched at the fury in his brother’s eyes. “Yes. I don’t know Lady Juliana well, but anyone can see she’s not the sort of lady who’d take you away from your child.”

  She didn’t have anything but frowns and scowls for Logan, but he’d seen the way Lady Juliana’s face lit up when Fitz walked into the library tonight. He’d seen the joy, love, and fear in her eyes when she’d spoken of her niece, Grace.

  They were the two people in the world most dear to her. She’d come all the way to Scotland for them, over hundreds of miles of rough roads. She’d risked her well-being, her reputation, and her safety for them. She might go as far as Scotland to protect her niece, but the one thing she wouldn’t do was sacrifice one of them for the other. She wouldn’t compromise Fitz’s or his unborn child’s happiness. Not even for Grace’s sake.

  “You’d better go to her.” Logan tipped his head toward the closed library door. “She’s…distressed.”

  “Yes, she would be, but you’ve got just what you wanted, didn’t you, Logan? I hope you’re pleased with yourself.” Fitz didn’t wait for an answer, but wrenched open the library door and went inside.

  Logan waited for it to close behind Fitz before he turned and made his way down the hall to the stairs. He was halfway up before the words echoing in his head made it to his lips. “It’s not what I wanted.” His quiet voice sounded loud in the silence. “This isn’t what I wanted at all.”

  * * * *

  Juliana hadn’t moved since Logan Blair left the room.

  When Fitz found her, she was staring down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The fire crackled in the grate, the cheerful snap and hiss of the flames mocking the frozen silence of the room.

  She was thinking of Grace, of how Grace had wept and clung to her skirts when Juliana left her with Lord Pierce in Buckinghamshire. Grace adored both Hugh and Isla, but nothing—nothing—could console her for the loss of her Aunt Juliana. For as long as Grace could remember, Juliana was the first person she saw when she woke, and the last one to kiss her goodnight before she fell asleep.

  Until the moment Juliana learned about Fitzwilliam’s child, she’d thought there wasn’t a thing in the world she wouldn’t do for her niece. Now she knew better.

  She felt for Fitzwilliam’s unborn child all the same love and tenderness she did for Grace.

  Juliana stirred, and raised her gaze to Fitz’s. “Is there a child, Fitzwilliam?”

  Fitz dragged his hands down his face. “Lina,” he began, sounding wearier than she’d ever heard him. “Just listen to me—”

  “Is there a child?”

  Fitz’s head bowed, and his hands dropped limply to his sides. “Yes,” he whispered. “There’s a child.”

  She nodded. “It’s gotten so late, hasn’t it? I don’t suppose I can leave tomorrow, but you’ll ride to Inverness and fetch Stokes for me, won’t you? We can leave from Castle Kinross together, the day after.”

  Fitz went to her. “Please don’t leave like this, Lina. If you’ll only give me a few days to think, I may be able to find a way—”

  “No.” Juliana turned her face away. “You should have told me the truth at once, Fitzwilliam. How can you think I’d trade your child’s future for Grace’s? Your happiness for hers? I never could, so there’s nothing more to be done.”

  Juliana rose to her feet, but Fitz grabbed her hand. “Wait, Lina. I have an idea—something that might make Logan reconsider.”

  Juliana shook her head. “Mr. Blair may be a thief and a liar, but he’s no fool. He might have agreed to marry me to keep you from having to, but he knows I’ll never consider a marriage between us now. I no longer have any power to persuade him.”

  Fitz was staring into the fire, his brows drawn together. “What if I could give you that power?”

  Juliana paused, a flicker of hope in her breast. “You think there’s something else Mr. Blair may want enough to make him agree to the marriage?”

  “I know one thing he wants more than anything, and it’s in my power to give it to him. He won’t like how I’ll go about it. At least, not at first, but at the moment I don’t much care whether he likes it or not.” A faint smile rose to Fitz’s lips. “If I can manage to work it out the way I want, it will be to everyone’s benefit.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, Fitzwilliam. Perhaps your brother is right, and a marriage between us is pure madness. I’m afraid I’m so desperate to have the thing done I can’t tell anymore.”

  He squeezed her hands. “It’s not ideal, a marriage between you. I don’t deny it. But Logan is…well, I imagine you have a poor opinion of him, given what you’ve learned about him so far. I don’t blame you for it. I’m furious at him myself. But there’s a great deal more honor in Logan than you might suppose. I hadn’t been at Castle Kinross more than a week before I realized that.”

  Juliana sighed. She trusted Fitzwilliam’s judgment, but Logan Blair had been firm in his refusal. He wasn’t the sort of man who could be made to do something he didn’t wish to do. “I can’t imagine what you can do to convince him.�
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  “I don’t like to say yet. Not until I’m certain I can manage the thing, but if I can, I promise you, Lina, there’s not a chance of him refusing the marriage.”

  She blew out a breath. “Perhaps it would be better if I were to go back to England at once. There must be some gentleman or other in London I can persuade to marry me—”

  “No. I won’t send you off to London to become prey to scoundrels and fortune hunters. Logan hasn’t shown himself to advantage, but I promise you, you’re far better off with him than you’d be with any of those blackguards. Besides, you said yourself you must have your father’s approval for the match. I know Lord Graystone, Lina. He may not be entirely lucid, but even so, I doubt he’ll approve a fortune hunter.”

  “No,” she agreed. “But there’s no guarantee he’ll approve Mr. Blair, either.”

  Fitzwilliam gave her a cryptic smile. “I think he will, especially once my arrangements are complete, but it’s going to take a bit of time to get everything in order. Will you stay a little longer, and give me a chance to help you?”

  Juliana looked into Fitz’s anxious eyes, and her heart ached. She didn’t have much hope Logan Blair would change his mind, but she couldn’t refuse Fitzwilliam this—not when he wanted so desperately to help her. “I suppose a few days won’t make any difference.”

  He pressed her hand. “Thank you, Lina. Now, you must be exhausted.” He rang the bell, and after a short time the housekeeper appeared. “Ah, Mrs. Selkirk. Please show Lady Juliana to her bedchamber, and see that a hot bath is prepared and a tray is sent to her room.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Selkirk smiled at Lady Juliana.

  “Oh, and Mrs. Selkirk? Once Lady Juliana is settled, send Miss Emilia to me, if you would.”

  Mrs. Selkirk nodded, and gestured for Juliana to precede her out of the room.

  Juliana cast one last look at Fitzwilliam, but he waved her away with a smile. “Go on, and don’t worry, Lina. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

  Juliana thought of Logan Blair’s stiff face, the tightness of his mouth when he’d refused her, and she doubted anyone could take care of it. But she allowed herself to be led away by Mrs. Selkirk, her body weary from her long ride, and her heart filled with misgivings.