The Highlander's Woman (The Reckless Rockwoods #3)

by Monica Burns

  It had taken all of yesterday morning to find a competent doctor of discretion as well as a new home for her and her child. They’d moved Caitriona into the house Julian had rented shortly after her labor had begun to intensify. Julian was certain the move had made Caitriona’s labor more difficult despite the doctor’s reassurances that moving her would do no harm.

  She’d died little more than two hours ago leaving her son in his care. The memory of her wan features and final confession struck deep at the very core of him. In hindsight, he realized he should never have sworn an oath not to reveal Caitriona’s secret. It was bad enough his father had extracted an oath of silence from him about his search for Caitriona. The thought of keeping anything else from Patience troubled him, especially when it was a confession that would impact them both in the future.

  He grimaced. Una had disappeared shortly after Caitriona’s death. He’d assumed she wanted to grieve in solitude and left him to make funeral arrangements. He understood why Caitriona had entrusted the boy’s care to him. Una was far too irresponsible to be the child’s guardian. It didn’t matter because Una had already declared she had no intention of taking the child home with her. At least the wet nurse the doctor had found had agreed to care for Caitriona’s son until he could make other arrangements.

  Wearily, he climbed the steps of the house and walked through the front door. Hobbs appeared from the back of the hall as Julian dropped his hat on the half-moon table pressed against the wall of the entryway.

  “Hello, Hobbs,” he said quietly. “Is Mrs. MacTavish in?”

  “Yes, sir,” the butler gestured toward the salon. “I believe she’s reading.”

  “Thank you.”

  Julian frowned at the other man’s observation. There was at least another two hours of sunshine left and it was still beautiful outside. He knew Patience loved to read in the park when the weather was like today. For her to be inside meant something was wrong. He opened the door to the salon to see Patience standing at the window.

  Every time he looked at her, he remembered the first time he’d seen her. The sound of her laughter had lured him to her. But it had been the golden warmth in her beautiful brown eyes and the touch of her hand in his that had sealed his fate where she was concerned.

  His father was wrong. Patience was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It didn’t matter that they had no children. All that mattered was that she was his to love. If he ever lost her, it would destroy him. As she turned to face him, Julian’s body hardened with tension. She looked as if there had been a death in the family.

  The loss of her sister-in-law in childbirth last year had been difficult for the entire Rockwood clan, but Patience had been extremely fond of Georgina. It had been almost as devastating for her as it had been for her brother, Caleb. Now as he stared at her pale, stoic expression, he feared the worst.

  “What is it, mo ghràdh? What’s happened?”

  “Where have you been?” she asked hoarsely. The question caught him off guard, and he stared at her in surprise as his insides twisted with guilt.

  “I sent a note explaining where I was. Did you no’ receive it?” The fact that he was skirting her question with misdirection made him uncomfortable, but there was little he could do about it without breaking his oath of silence to Caitriona.

  “I received it,” she said in a flat voice.

  “Will you forgive me, mo leannan?” Wearily, he rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Did your business with Lord Mayberry go well?” The quiet question set off a warning bell in his head. He frowned as he met her cold gaze. Never in the entire time they’d known each other had she ever looked at him like that. It was almost a look of contempt. She looked back out the window.

  “Aye,” he said as another twinge of guilt lashed at him for lying to her. “You were right about my appointment with Mayberry. It was this afternoon.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and gently rubbed his eyelids. He should have risked telling her the truth and made her worry as opposed to lying to her over the past two days ago. If he’d simply told her business had brought him to London last week and he’d met with Mayberry then things would be less complicated. Instead, he was lying about Mayberry now. Damn his father for putting him in such a difficult position. No, he’d done that all by himself when he’d failed to trust his wife.

  “So you saw him today,” her voice was strained, and he frowned at the pain he saw flickering in her beautiful brown eyes.

  “No, my father’s business was no’ complete until just a short time ago.” He drew in a deep breath of sadness as he remembered Caitriona’s hopeless struggle to live.

  “And was Una Bensmore part of that business?” she asked in a tight voice. The unexpected question made him stiffen in surprise as he stared at her in amazement.

  “Why would you ask such a thing?” He shook his head slightly as a sense of foreboding streaked through him at the frosty glare Patience cast in his direction.

  “Because of this,” she said fiercely as she thrust her hand outward and opened her fist. Fear snaked through him the moment he saw the blood pooling in her palm.

  “Christ almighty, Patience,” he bit out. “What the hell have you done to your hand?”

  Obviously surprised by his harsh response, she shifted her gaze downward. A puzzled look crossed her pale features as she stared at her bloodied hand. Julian strode forward.

  “It’s your brooch,” she murmured in a strained voice.

  “I can see that,” he growled as he took the jewelry from her hand to drop it on the table. Julian snatched a napkin off her lunch tray. It made a loud crack, as he snapped it open and proceeded to dab at the blood on her palm. “What the devil were you thinking, holding it like that?”

  The blood that had made her injury look so severe was the result of several deep pricks to her palm. The amount of blood had made it look far worse than it really was. It would give her slight discomfort for a few days, but she would heal easily. As he cleaned the blood from her hand, he looked at her in a silent demand for an explanation.

  “I wasn’t thinking,” she said woodenly. The dispassionate response made him shake his head as he tried to comprehend how his brooch had come to be in her possession to begin with.

  “Where did you find this? I thought I’d lost it.”

  Relief that she was unharmed mixed with gratitude that he’d recovered the brooch. He would have mourned its loss. His mother had given it to him on his seventh birthday a few months before she’d become sick and died. The last time he’d seen it had been yesterday morning on his coat. It must have fallen off on his way out the door. A second later, he looked into Patience’s eyes, and an icy blast of fear chilled him to the bone. Her face was pale and her expression devoid of emotion. Normally he could tell what she was thinking, but she’d closed herself off to him. Julian frowned at the flicker of emotion darkening her soft, brown eyes. What the hell had happened while he’d been gone.

  “Una Bensmore delivered your brooch in person,” Patience’s voice was the sound of glass shattering. With a quick, vicious tug of her hand, she jerked free of his grasp. Bone tired it took Julian several seconds to comprehend her words.

  “Una? She was here?” He frowned in bewilderment.

  “Is she your mistress?” The question blindsided him.

  “My mis—God in heaven, Patience. I do no’ have a mistress.”

  Bloody hell, what would make her think he was involved with Una? His gut twisted like a hung man hanging in the wind. Una had always been one to make mischief, but heaven help him if the woman had been malevolent enough to suggest she was his mistress

  He’d have Una’s head for making Patience think he’d been unfaithful. Caitriona’s sister had been nothing but trouble since the day she turned seventeen and Fergus MacTavish had planted the idea in her head that she’d one day be the lady of Crianlarich Castle. She’d been trying to seduce Julian ever since. Despite denying his involvement
with Una, he saw the look of disbelief on Patience’s face.

  “Then why did you ride off in a hansom cab with her yesterday morning, and why were you seen house hunting with her?”

  “How in the hell do you know about that?” he exclaimed without thinking how it might sound. Sweet mother of God, exactly what had Una told Patience? She’d had all night to think the worst of him if she’d seen him ride off with Una. He wanted to bang his head against the wall out of frustration for being such a thick-headed dolt.

  “Anyone who reads the society page knows about it by now. But it still doesn’t explain why you were looking for a house with the woman you say isn’t your mistress.” Each word she spoke crackled with anger and humiliation. Christ Jesus, everyone they knew, including her family, would think the worst. But all he cared about was what Patience believed. His sluggish brain tried to frame an answer without betraying his oath to Caitriona.

  “Tis difficult to explain, mo ghràdh,” he muttered. He saw Patience wince, and he took a step forward only to see her recoil from him. Her retreat cut through him like a knife.

  “It’s not difficult at all Julian. Either you did or didn’t go house hunting with the woman.” Her voice made the same sound icicles made when they snapped free of a tree limb.

  “I did,” he growled. “But tis no’ what it looks like, Patience.”

  “What is it supposed to look like?” The question was delivered with a cold, detached bluntness that made him feel as though she’d kicked him. “You took the woman house hunting, and you were with her last night.”

  How in God’s name was he supposed to explain he’d been with Una looking at houses for her sister? The mere fact that Una was in the same room as Caitriona’s labor progressed made it impossible to deny being with the woman. Worse, it meant betraying Caitriona’s confidence if he explained why Una had been with him last night as they waited for her sister to give birth.

  “I give you my word, Patience. I was not with Una last night,” he said quietly and firmly. It was the truth as far as sharing the woman’s bed, but the white lie still didn’t sit well with him. For a fleeting second he thought he saw hope soften her features before her expression hardened with distrust.

  “Then tell me where you were.” Patience demanded sharply. Julian shoved a hand through his dark hair.

  “Tis difficult to explain,” he muttered. His words made Patience wince, and he took a step forward only to see her retreat from him once more. A vise wrapped around his chest the moment she drew back.

  “Then explain about your meeting with Lord Mayberry,” she said softly. Something in her voice said he was treading treacherous waters.

  “I told you, I did no’ meet with Mayberry—”

  “Liar.” The sharp accusation made him freeze as he stared at the cold rage in his wife’s eyes. He tilted his head slightly to study her warily.

  “I am no’ a liar, Patience,” he said quietly knowing full well he was exactly what she’d called him. “I did no’ meet with Lord Mayberry yesterday or today.”

  “But you did meet with him, didn’t you?”

  “I’ve already answered the question,” he snapped.

  “I saw Lord Mayberry yesterday, and he said you met last Thursday.”

  Patience’s words crackled like ice breaking beneath his feet. She knew he’d come back to London without coming home. It only made him look all the more guilty. Julian was a man drowning as he stared at her. It was obvious she’d already formed an opinion, and it wasn’t good. His tired brain didn’t respond quick enough with an explanation, and her mouth thinned into a tight line of anger.

  “You were in London for two days before you came home, Julian. Where were you?”

  “Bloody hell, tis no’ what it looks like, Patience.” He shoved both hands through his hair. His head was starting to hurt as if he’d just awoken from a night of drinking.

  “What is it supposed to look like Julian?” she glared at him with a cold disdain that ignited an angry frustration inside him. Julian intended to wring Una’s neck for upsetting Patience and making his wife doubt his love for her.

  “You don’t deny you were with her,” she sneered. “So, I’ll ask you again. Is she your mistress?”

  “Damn it, Una is no’ my lover,” he bit out. It was as if he were a large fish caught in a fisherman’s net and the more he tried to escape the tighter the net encircled him.

  “The woman knew about your birthmark, Julian,” she said quietly. There was a note of deep pain in her voice that belied the contempt on her face. “How could Miss Bensmore know about the mark unless you’ve shared her bed?”

  Stunned, Julian stared at her as if he were dull-witted while his brain whirred with a dozen questions all at the same time. He fought through them to the one that seemed the most important. How had Una known about his birthmark when he’d never slept with her? Patience was right. The only way someone could know about his mark was if they saw him naked, and he knew he’d never been naked in Una’s presence. Worse, if he couldn’t make Patience listen to reason—believe him—he was damned for certain. Julian shook his head.

  “Patience, I do no’ have an explanation for how Una knows about my birthmark, but I have never been with the woman.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she spat out with a quiet, cold fury. “The only explanation is that you were in her bed last night, and God knows how many other nights. You were at Crianlarich for two months. Perhaps the dinner parties your father likes to throw for his close friends, the Bensmores, encouraged you to take advantage of my absence.”

  “Bloody hell, do you no’ know me at all. Are you willing to let the words of a spiteful witch come between us?”

  “A woman who says the two of you are lovers.”

  “She is no’ my lover.” His words thundered in the salon so loudly he thought the walls would shake. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “Then explain where you were last night if you weren’t with her. Explain what you were doing so late that you couldn’t come home to me? Tell me why you lied about Lord Mayberry. Tell me why you came back to London, but didn’t come home to me.” The soft plea snagged at his heart as a tear slid down her pale cheek, and the pain in her gaze sliced through his chest.

  “I can no’ explain, mo ghràdh,” he said with a shake of his head. “Tis no’ my secret to tell.”

  “Do you have any idea how that sounds, Julian?” She closed her eyes for a moment, and he saw her throat flex as if she were trying not to cry. Patience looked at him again. “How can you expect me to believe you weren’t with her when I know you’ve lied to me once already? What am I supposed to think?”

  “I expect you to have a little faith in me—to believe I would no’ lie to you,” he ground out fiercely as he took a step toward her. Patience raised her hand to stop him.

  “Don’t come near me. I don’t want you to touch me.”

  The words knotted his muscles tight with something he’d not experienced since he was a child—fear. Julian swallowed the anger rising in his throat. He turned away from Patience and walked to the window to stare out at the street. Hands clasped behind his back, his brain churned madly as he blindly grasped for an explanation that would ease Patience’s fears and honor Caitriona’s request.

  The burden of Caitriona’s secret on his shoulders was causing a deep chasm between him and the woman he loved more than life itself. The most crippling thought was that he didn’t know what he could say to close the growing gap between them. Bloody hell, why hadn’t he simply written to her that an old friend from Crianlarich was desperately in need of his help?

  Patience was the most compassionate soul he knew. She would have understood. Instead, he’d lied to her, and agreeing to Caitriona’s final request had only made things that much more difficult for him when it came to making Patience believe he was innocent of any betrayal. Slowly, he turned to face her.

  “Things are no’ what they seem, mo ghràdh. I should h
ave come home last week, but I had to conduct my business in the more sordid parts of town.” Julian met her gaze steadily as he pleaded his case. “I did no’ wish to worry you when I came home late with no explanation why. My father asked me to help Una in a matter that is of a personal nature. It is the only reason I was with her yesterday.”

  Disbelief and confusion swept across Patience’s face as she pressed her hand to her throat. He stretched out his hand to her.

  “Trust me, mo leannan,” he said fervently, praying she would see he was speaking from the heart. “I swore an oath to an old friend no’ to reveal what I know. Do no’ believe Una’s lies.”

  “You’re asking a great deal of me, Julian.”

  “Aye,” he jerked his head sharply. “I am.”

  “You’re asking me to forget everything. You lied to me, Julian, and now you want me to believe you, simply because your answer is that you were helping—”

  “Bloody hell, Patience. I can no’ tell a secret that is no’ mine to tell,” he roared as he smashed his fist on the table next to the window. He saw her jump with fear and immediately regretted his fierce reaction.

  “What would you believe if you were in my shoes, Julian? What if I’d lied and I were the one saying I was protecting someone’s secret?” she whispered as if in great pain. “I doubt you would be so willing to believe me any more than I am to believe you.”

  She was right. He would find it almost impossible to believe her if the same type of evidence was presented to him where she was concerned. Angry with himself for his lies and stupidity in agreeing to Caitriona’s request, he shook his head.

  “I know the evidence makes me look guilty, Patience, but I am no’,” he rasped. “But I must honor my oath.”

  “Please stop,” Patience said in a strained whisper. “I can’t think straight, Julian.”

  One hand pressed against her temple, Patience closed her eyes and shook her head. A second tear slid down her cheek. Unable to help himself, he quickly closed the distance between them. This time she didn’t retreat, but he could see the raw pain in her eyes. With a gentle touch, he wiped the tear off her cheek. If someone had beaten him until he lay dying in a ditch it would have hurt less than to see the anguish in her gaze. He caught her hand in his and carried it to his lips.