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

by Monica Burns

  “Aye, for all her lack of Scottish blood, she loves you,” the Crianlarich said with confidence. “She’ll take the babe as her own.”

  Disgusted by his father’s actions and lies, Julian stared out the window once again. How in the hell was he supposed to explain his father’s lie to Patience? What would it do to her when she learned everyone believed her to be the mother of Caitriona’s and her father-in-law’s baby? A child she might think was his. He closed his eyes for a brief moment.

  When Caitriona had begged him not to tell Bensmore who her lover had been, Julian had instinctively known she was pleading with him to tell no one about the baby. But she’d only been explicit about her father, not anyone else. The morning he’d returned home, he’d not been thinking straight. Lack of sleep had made him take his oath to Caitriona so literally. But it could not be undone. He’d not shared everything with Patience, and it exposed him for the fool that he was, and his stupidity had come at a steep price.

  Julian grimaced at the thought. He’d accused her of not being able to trust him, and yet he’d repaid the debt in kind by lying to her. Even worse was the havoc Una had added to the wretched mess. His jaw hardened at the thought. Not even when he’d confronted the woman had she been remorseful. Instead, she’d scornfully dismissed Patience and suggested that he divorce her and take a true Scottish wife. That Una had actually thought he would do such a thing reinforced his anger and disgust for his father. The Crianlarich had filled Una’s head with hopes of one day being Mistress of Crianlarich. Una’s successful attempt to destroy his marriage revealed the woman would go to great lengths to achieve her goal.

  The carriage wheel hit a deep rut in the road, and it jogged Julian out of his thoughts. He glanced out the window opposite his seat. They were on the narrowest stretch of road leading to the castle. On his father’s side of the carriage, the byway bordered a drop off of almost a hundred feet. Across from him, Fergus uttered a low growl as he leaned forward to stick his head out the window.

  The Crianlarich shouted at Drummond, but before Fergus could retreat back into the cabin, one of the wheels at the back of the carriage cracked loudly. The wheel wobbled violently in a manner that made the vehicle teeter precariously toward the edge of the small cliff. Outside, the horses were whinnying loudly, while Drummond called out to them in a voice filled with fear.

  “Father, move to this side of the carriage,” Julian snapped as the vehicle tilted further toward the cliff.

  The Crianlarich moved quickly to do as Julian ordered, but his shift in position destabilized the vehicle more. With a loud screech of wood and metal, the carriage tumbled off the short craggy incline. He heard his father cry out while the horses screamed in terror. Instinct made Julian brace himself against the wall of the vehicle as it rolled downward.

  Tossed to the opposite side of the carriage, his head slammed against the side of the wall that had been pierced by a large rock. The moment his head hit the granite he could have sworn someone had taken an ax to his skull. Patience’s face filtered through his pain to hover in front of him like a shimmering light. In that brief moment, he thanked God she wasn’t with him. It was the last thing he remembered before he passed out.

  Shouts echoed in the distance, and Julian slowly regained consciousness. He had no idea how long he’d been senseless. Opening his eyes, he realized it was nighttime. The moon had to be behind the clouds as there wasn’t a single drop of light in the carriage making it impossible to see his father. Julian touched his throbbing forehead and suppressed a groan. The knot on his head was the size of a large egg, and there was blood from a cut close to his temple. Christ Jesus, his head hurt. A sharp pain radiated from below his knee which was trapped beneath his other leg. The moment he straightened the leg, pain streaked up it with the force of a hammer blow.

  “Fuck,” he snarled as he slammed his fist into his upper thigh and waited for the knifelike sensation in his calf to ease.

  Julian hovered on the edge of consciousness for a moment before the pain dissipated to a persistent stabbing sensation. The tension in his body slowly abated, and a slow breath of relief rolled past his lips. He didn’t need a doctor to know his leg was broken. Julian uttered another oath as he stretched out his hand to search for his father in the darkness.

  “Father, are you all right?”

  After groping for several seconds, his hand found the Crianlarich’s arm. Gently, he squeezed his father’s shoulder. He tried to shift his position, but this time it was his head that protested with a vicious stab of pain. The voices were almost at the shattered vehicle, and Julian realized he’d fainted again. Furious that his body wasn’t cooperating with his desire to move, Julian steeled himself for more pain as he reached out to touch his father. His fingers brushed the side of his father’s face, and he tapped him lightly on the cheek.

  “Father, answer me,” he snapped. He smacked harder at the Crianlarich’s face. The instant he did so, his father’s head lolled to one side, and Julian drew in a sharp breath of shock. Despite their differences, Julian loved his father. It seemed inconceivable that he might truly be gone.

  “Crianlarich, Mr. MacTavish, are ye all right?”

  “Who’s there?” His leg protested viciously the instant he shifted his position. Pain pulled a loud grunt from him as he struggled to remain conscious. In the back of his mind, he tried to understand why the man didn’t have a light.

  “Do ye no’ recognize me, Mr. MacTavish? It’s Croft. Ainsley is with me too.”

  “How badly is my father injured?” he asked hoping his initial assessment was wrong.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Croft hesitated, before his tone shifted to one of sympathy and regret. “The Crianlarich has met his maker.”

  Julian closed his eyes at the words as grief dug into his senses. It penetrated his physical pain to lash at his heart. Frozen in place, it was as if someone had suspended him in the bleakest of nights with the realization he was the new Crianlarich. The thought only reinforced the fact that his father was dead, and grief tugged at him again. He pushed his sorrow aside as he remembered the driver of the carriage.

  “Drummond. Is he all right?”

  “Aye, Crianlarich, but he has a broken arm and a gash on his leg, which needs stitching.”

  Julian nodded and suppressed a sound of pain as he tried to find a more comfortable position to recline in.

  “Sir, we need to get you out of the carriage,” Croft said.

  “My leg is broken,” he said hoarsely as his every word sent pain jabbing through his forehead to the back of his head. “You’ll need a board. I can no’ walk or ride.”

  “Right. Ainsley go tae the castle and fetch help.”

  “And bring lights,” Julian snarled through his pain. “How the devil were you able to see anything out on the moors at this time of night?”

  “Night, sir?” Puzzlement mixed with worry in Croft’s words.

  “Yes, night. I can no’ see a damn thing in this infernal darkness.” Julian frowned with anger. Was the man daft for being on the moors without a lantern when it was so dark? Deep inside, the whisper of something insidious slithered its way through him.

  “What time is it?” Julian demanded.

  “Tis a little after four, sir.”

  “In the morning?” he snapped unwilling to believe what the voice in the back of head was suggesting.

  “No, sir,” Croft said in a worried voice. “Tis the afternoon. Ainsley and I were out on the moor when we saw the carriage roll off the road.”

  “Four in the afternoon…” Julian growled like a wounded animal.

  With a growing sense of doom, he roughly rubbed his eyes hoping to erase the black abyss that had replaced his vision. When he opened his eyes again, all he saw was darkness. Anger and fear weighed against his chest with the heaviness of a tree trunk. Desperately, he struggled to suppress the shout of fury rumbling in his chest.

  The result was a low groan of pain breaking free from his lips. It bar
ely eased the tightness in his chest, but it hid the dread rising inside him. Eyes closed again, he willed himself to obliterate the darkness. When Julian opened his eyes to nothing but blackness another cry of rage rose up in his chest. He was blind.

  Shock wrapped its arms tightly around him causing him to go rigid as he fought to contain the rising stem of dread. Panic struck deep at the core of him. He pushed back against the terror as he rationalized the reason for his blindness. The only blood was from the gash on his temple. It was obvious his eyes themselves were uninjured. That left his head injury as the only logical reason for his blindness. A temporary blindness he told himself, despite a growing fear that it might not be temporary at all.

  Croft seemed to understand he had no desire to talk as they waited in silence for Ainsley to return with help. Images of Patience filled Julian’s head, and once more he experienced gratitude that she hadn’t been with him. The thought of her suffering more injuries or perhaps even death made him choke back bile. Would she be worried about him if she learned of the accident?

  Suddenly he remembered her vision of a spinning carriage wheel and fire. Twice the an dara sealladh, had shown her disaster, and yet both accidents had been unpreventable. For a second time he was grateful she wasn’t with him. She blamed herself for Caleb’s and Devin’s death. She might easily blame herself for this accident as well. Muireall would want to send word to Patience, but he wouldn’t let her. Patience had paid enough in pain and suffering, he refused to add to her pain. Julian wasn’t sure how long they waited, and at the sound of approaching voices, he experienced a small measure of relief.

  “Julian,” his half-sister’s voice filtered through his pain, and he frowned. “Julian, are you all right? Is father all right?”

  “Damn it, Muireall, what are you doing here,” he snarled not wanting her to see their father’s body like this. “Croft, get her out of here. Now.”

  Muireall protested vehemently and suddenly he caught the scent of heather and lavender breezing into the broken carriage. Her dissension quickly became a wail of sorrow. Furious that he’d been unable to shield her from the truth a little longer, he shot upright in an attempt to grab her hand. When he found nothing but air, the pain wracking his body slammed through him like a fast-moving train. A fraction of a second later, he lost consciousness.

  Chapter 7

  * * *

  “Julian.”

  Patience screamed his name as she awoke and jerked upright in her chair. The book in her lap fell to the floor as the fire crackled in the fireplace. Running feet pounded against the marble floor of the foyer announcing Percy before he even charged into the morning room. Her gaze met her brother’s who moved quickly to her side. As he knelt in front of her, she turned her scarred cheek away. Gently, he turned her head toward him and brushed tears off both sides of her face. Startled by the touch, she realized she’d been crying.

  “Another dream?” Percy asked gently.

  The worried frown on his face made Patience wince. The doctor had said her nightmares about the fire would eventually fade with time. He’d even said the one or two instances when she’d walked in her sleep would run its course. But this dream had not been about the fire.

  This time they’d been filled with nothing but images of Julian lying in a dark space with his leg bent beneath him in an awkward fashion. Was it a dream or a vision? It was impossible to tell the difference any more. She swallowed the knot of pain that had quickly formed in her throat and shook her head.

  “I’m fine. Dr. Branson said it would take time for the nightmares to disappear.”

  The soft whisper of feminine footsteps moving quickly across the main entryway made Patience turn her head to see Louisa enter the room. Dressed in mourning black, her sister’s life with Devin had been a good one, and she had been desolate since that terrible night. Now as she met her sister’s gaze, Patience experienced guilt at causing Louisa worry. The youngest of the Rockwood siblings hurried to the settee and sat down next to her. She clasped Patience’s hand in hers and squeezed it in a gesture of comfort.

  “Another one?”

  The concern in her sister’s voice made Patience nod. The fire in the hearth suddenly crackled and popped loudly. Patience jumped violently at the sound, and Percy quickly moved to the fireplace to spread out the coals in an effort to deaden the sound the flames created. She was certain it was his attempt to alleviate any possible reminder of the fire for all three of them.

  “I’m fine,” Patience said softly as she gently pulled her scarred hand free of Louisa’s grasp.

  She covered the marred flesh with her other hand while dipping her head slightly in an effort to minimize the scars her sister could see on her face. Patience wanted to spare her sister as much pain as possible. Her burnt flesh was simply a reminder to Louisa that her husband was dead and Patience wasn’t.

  “Don’t,” Louisa said sharply as she uncovered Patience’s scarred hand. “Don’t you ever be ashamed of those scars, Patience Rockwood MacTavish. If it weren’t for you and Caleb, the family would have lost our future that night. Devin would say the same thing to you if he were here. Our children were more important to him than life itself.”

  Patience’s eyes widened with surprise as she met her youngest sister’s fierce gaze. There was deep pain in Louisa’s hazel eyes. But the strength displayed on her lovely features was an expression she knew well. It was same look Patience had witnessed on the faces of her entire family as each of them had dealt with their grief over the past nine months.

  Yet despite Louisa’s reprimand, Patience found it unbearable to look in the mirror. Last week in an effort to stop Sebastian’s badgering, she’d ventured out with her brother for a morning ride. They’d rode out just after dawn, but their effort to avoid people had been to no avail, and it had proven painfully obvious why she should never go out in public.

  Several family acquaintances had been out as well, and despite the netting attached to her riding hat, she’d endured looks of horror and revulsion. But it was the looks of pity that had made her withstand Sebastian’s growing insistence that she ride with him again. From the fireplace, Percy cleared his throat as he clasped his hands behind his back.

  “Several of us were wondering—”

  “Patience, I’m planning on going with Aunt Matilda to Callendar Abby in a few weeks,” Louisa interrupted with a nasty glare at their brother. “I hope you’ll reconsider going with us. We’re taking Greer, Alma, and Braxton with us.”

  “We’ve discussed this before. I’m content where I am,” Patience said as she cast a glance in Percy’s direction before looking back at her sister.

  It was obvious the family thought she should go to Scotland, but there were two reasons why she refused to do so. The first was that the journey meant being out in public where she’d be the subject of scrutiny no matter how much she tried to cover her scars. Secondly, Crianlarich was little more than an hour north of the abbey. She had no intention of enduring the possibility of Julian coming to visit her aunt.

  “It will be good for you, Patience,” her brother said in a coaxing voice.

  “I’m quite happy here.”

  “Louisa could use the help, and you know the children adore you. They don’t care about your scars any more than the rest of us do. We all love you.”

  Her brother’s blunt words made her flinch. She averted her gaze as she struggled with the idea that her family members might really not care about her disfigurements. Patience swallowed hard at Percy’s words. Perhaps it was time to accept herself as she was. Her throat tightened. No, her family might see past her scars, but society would not, and the thought of going out of the house was almost paralyzing.

  “I’ve given you my decision. I no longer wish to discuss the matter,” she said in a quiet, but firm voice. Percy could plead all he wanted, but she had no intention of going to Callendar Abby.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Percy’s confrontational question told her that
he knew precisely why she refused to go to her aunt’s Scotland estate. Tension tugged painfully at the scarred skin on her cheek while her hand ached as the stiff scars protested as her hand tightened into a fist. Patience tried to relax in an effort to ease her discomfort as she narrowed her gaze at her brother.

  “No, but Julian might take it in his mind to call on Aunt Matilda, and I have no wish to see him.”

  “For the love of God, Patience,” her brother exclaimed angrily. “When are you going to forgive the man for whatever wrong he’s done you?”

  “Whatever happened between Julian and me is our affair and no one else’s, Percy,” she said coldly as she rose to her feet. “But I have my reasons. Good reasons.”

  Regret swept across her brother’s features, but she ignored his obvious remorse and walked out of the morning room. With each passing day, one family member or another gently pressed her to reconcile with Julian. She resisted vehemently, not because she couldn’t forgive him.

  Patience had forgiven Julian his small lie and accepted how important his honor was to him. It made her heart ache for not believing him. She’d allowed the Crianlarich and Una to make her question Julian’s faithfulness. But what kept her from going to him was the thought of being the recipient of his pity. Even if he still loved her, it would be impossible for him not to feel pity for her. Worse, he might view her and their marriage as one of duty.

  She’d already earned more than her fair share of pitying looks. The burns from the fire had left horrific scars on her arm, parts of her leg, and her cheekbone had been burned back to her ear. She was grateful that she’d not suffered the loss of hair. But the last thing she wanted was for Julian to see her like this. It would be unbearable, particularly when there was the possibility of seeing Una.

  Compared to the woman’s beauty, she would look like a beast if she were ever in Una’s company again. Her stomach lurched at the thought. She had no wish to suddenly face the Crianlarich or Una and become the target for their ridicule or pity. Patience winced as she crossed the floor to the main staircase. She paused at the foot of the stairs, acknowledging the fear that held her paralyzed for a brief moment.