by Monica Burns
“Then there’s nothing more to say,” she said softly as she fought back tears. “I’ll return to London as soon as arrangements can be made.”
“As you wish,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice. “Have the divorce papers sent to me when they are ready for my signature.”
Patience jerked at his words. She didn’t want a divorce. She never had. She’d lost him. She’d failed—not because she didn’t love him, but because she didn’t have the courage to trust him anymore than she could trust herself.
Julian’s back was ramrod straight, and Patience wanted to leap forward across the bed to pressed her body into his back. She longed to embrace him and confess the deepest part of her soul. Most of all she wanted the courage to tell him what was in her heart. Patience did none of those things and turned away and headed toward the connecting door between their rooms.
“Will you no’ at least stay for Muireall’s party?” he asked quietly. The thought of facing people she didn’t know terrified her, and she hesitated in her response.
“She will be disappointed if you are no’ here.”
“Yes, I’ll stay for the party,” she replied softly. Her response apparently surprised him as he jerked slightly, but continued to keep his back to her.
“Thank you.”
It was a soft dismissal that forced her to resume her course. A moment later, she moved through the connecting door and closed it behind her. It was like shutting everything out of her life that was good, leaving only a devastating heartbreak that would haunt her for the rest of her days.
§ § §
The moment Patience closed the door behind her, Julian released a low noise of pain. Christ Jesus, he’d backed himself into a corner, and the end result had driven her away. He’d misjudged the depths of her fear. It went far deeper than his own need not to be the subject of pity. He understood that much of her pain. But there was more to Patience’s suffering than her desire not to be treated with pity.
It was even deeper than her belief that her scars made her a creature to shy away from. He knew better. He’d touched her face, and what Aunt Matilda had said was correct. Patience scars were severe, but not to the extent she believed. Somehow he knew she was hiding a far more crippling wound beneath her scars. One he knew she would have to accept of her own accord. The realization hacked its way through him like a claymore would his flesh.
Bleakly, he went about the business of dressing for another day. One of the last few days he could enjoy to hear the sound of Patience’s laughter or breathe in her sweet scent. It was unlikely she would even give him the opportunity to touch her again. The thought filled him with the state of gloom he’d not experienced since the accident. Julian reached for his cane next to his bed and proceeded to make his way down to breakfast.
Patience’s presence had given him the confidence to move about the castle as freely as when he’d had his sight. She’d insisted he learn to be as self-sufficient as possible. He’d done precisely that, and he enjoyed his renewed sense of freedom. The quiet clink of silverware on china greeted him as he paused in the dining room doorway.
“Julian, I thought you were to ride with Patience this morning.”
“Our plans changed.”
“I do no’ understand,” Muireall said with an air of puzzlement. “Patience refused breakfast as she said she was going for her morning ride.”
“She went alone?” He knew it was a ridiculous question.
“Aye,” Muireall said with a hint of worry. “Should she no’ have done so?”
Julian’s gut knotted with fear. He knew Patience had been distraught when they’d parted company, which could easily make her careless. The Crianlarich estate was rife with treacherous terrain, and as skilled a horsewoman as his wife was, there was always the chance of something going wrong.
“I’m sure she’ll be all right. If she doesn’t return in an hour or so, I’ll send Lorne out to look for her.”
The morose feeling plaguing him deepened as he sat down. Like Mrs. Lester and Patience, his sister knew the precise placement of food on his plate and quickly fixed him something to eat. Almost half an hour later, he’d barely touched his meal. Hands braced against the edge of the table, he shoved himself out of his chair. The hunger he was experiencing had nothing to do with food and everything to do with his wife.
“Send Lorne into the library. I want him to read the Times to me,” Julian bit out tersely as he retrieved his cane from where it rested against the table leg.
“But Patience always reads the Times to you in the morning.”
“I said send for Lorne. Now, Muireall,” he barked.
“All right, but you do no’ have to bite my head off.”
The sulky note in his sister’s voice made him grimace, but before he could apologize she was gone. Angry that he’d taken his foul mood out on his sister, he muttered an oath. With his cane guiding him, Julian made his way to the library. He only had to wait a few minutes before his estate manager arrived. The man didn’t ask why after almost three weeks, Patience wasn’t reading to him.
As Lorne read the paper, Julian tried to focus his attention on the business and political news items. It was proving to be a difficult task when all he could do was compare Lorne’s dry reading of the paper to his wife’s melodious voice. Lorne had almost finished with the task of sharing the news of the day when the sound of Patience laughter mixed with male voices filtered its way from the main hall into the library. Frowning, he reached for his cane and stood up. No sooner had he done so than Patience entered the library followed by two more people.
“Julian, look who’s come to visit,” she exclaimed. Beneath her excitement there was the sound of panic in her voice. “Percy decided to surprise us.”
“Percy, this is an unexpected pleasure.” The tall, dark shape of his brother-in-law loomed against the gray background of his vision. An ally to help convince Patience she had to face her fears. A smile of delight on his face, Julian extended his hand in greeting.
“It’s good to see you too, Julian,” his brother-in-law said pleasantly as the two of them shook hands. “We arrived late yesterday and chose to stay at the Crianlarich Inn before riding over this morning. We met Patience on her way home.”
“We?” Julian’s senses were immediately on high alert as he remembered the odd note in Patience’s voice.
“Yes, Dr. Branson was interested in Patience’s progress. I invited him to come with me to see my wayward sister, who has been negligent in writing to the family.” Percy’s reply made Julian go rigid. The good doctor had come to check on his patient.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. MacTavish. I do hope you’ll forgive—”
“Crianlarich,” he said coldly at the doctor’s cheerful greeting.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I am now the Laird of Crianlarich. You may address me as Crianlarich.” An uncomfortable silence followed his harsh words, and the man in front of him cleared his throat.
“Forgive me, Crianlarich, I should have remembered you assumed your title only just recently. My condolences on your loss.”
“Thank you,” he bit out as his antagonism for the other man began to get the best of him. He didn’t like being caught by surprise. Worse, he didn’t want the man anywhere near Patience.
“Julian,” His wife’s voice floated across his senses. It was like a tendril of mist, tangible yet intangible
“I invited Percy and… Dr. Branson to stay with us until Muireall’s party next week.”
The words were like a lash across his back. Not only had she invited the doctor into his home—a home she’d already given up—but she’d invited the man to stay at Crianlarich until her own departure. Pain snagged its way through him. Livid that she had so much power over his happiness, he turned his head in her direction.
“Muireall will be delighted to hear the news. She need no’ fret about Molly Campbell or Una Bensmore being without partners for her party.”
/> At his remark, he heard Patience’s quiet gasp. Triumph surged through him. At least he would not look like a lovesick sheep herder during the time she and the good doctor were in his home.
“I trust Patience will see to your comfort, gentlemen. Lorne, I believe you mentioned there was estate business and correspondence that needed my attention.”
“Aye, Crianlarich,” Lorne said quietly. Julian was certain he heard a note of concern in his old friend’s voice. He nodded with a satisfaction he didn’t feel.
“Gentlemen, Patience,” he said abruptly. Julian’s voice echoed loudly in the awkward, uncomfortable silence. He didn’t care that he was being rude. Patience and her doctor were fortunate he didn’t bring the wrath of God down on their heads. The shadows in his vision parted like waves in the sea as he used his cane to find his way out of the library.
With every step that widened the gap between him and Patience, Julian had to fight the growing urge to charge back to her side. She was his. She didn’t belong to Branson. She was the Crianlarich’s woman. When he reached the main hall, he paused for a moment. Quiet whispers in the library told him Patience and her brother were arguing vehemently. A quiet, even-toned voice interrupted the siblings, and Julian released a snort of disgust. The doctor was far too deeply involved in the affairs of the Rockwood family. With another growl of dark emotion, he made his way back to Lorne’s office.
For the next several hours, Julian ruthlessly immersed himself in running the Crianlarich estate. He’d allowed things to languish since his father’s death, and it was time he took a deeper interest in the estate’s business prospects and its tenants. When Muireall came to tell him lunch was ready, he ordered her to have lunch sent to the office. His sister protested, but his estate manager quietly supported Julian’s orders. It was late afternoon when Lorne released a sigh of disgust.
“Enough, Julian,” he snapped. “We can no’ accomplish in one afternoon something we’ve not attended to in several months. It will take time to resolve everything. None of this needs to be addressed immediately, which is why I’ve held them back for so long.”
“You should’ve pushed me to do something sooner.”
“Push you,” Lorne snorted with disgusted amusement. “The only person capable of getting your stubborn arse to do something is the Crianlarich’s wife.”
“Guard your words carefully, Lorne,” he said with a vicious snarl.
“Do no’ patronize me, Julian MacTavish. You might be the Crianlarich now, but I can still beat your hide just like I did when we were lads. Only now I can do it blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back.”
Lorne’s anger took Julian by surprise before the words of his childhood friend settled in his brain. Had the man just suggested Julian’s blindness wouldn’t be the reason for losing a fight? Certainty swept through him. For a moment, he didn’t respond. His friend’s words clarified that it wasn’t his blindness that defined who he was to himself or to others. Even more amazing was the fact that Lorne’s words amused him. Suddenly, he snorted with laughter. Lorne chuckled as well. In seconds, the two men were laughing loudly. As their amusement died away, Julian rubbed his head. Even despite the brevity of the moment, he had the beginnings of a headache.
“You’re right, Lorne, it can no’ be accomplished in one day,” he said quietly. “Attend to the matters we discussed today, then we’ll tackle more at the end of the week.”
“As you wish, Crianlarich,” his estate manager said respectfully.
Julian nodded as he rose to his feet and headed toward the office door. His hand on the doorknob, he paused.
“Thank you, Lorne. You helped me understand what Patience has been telling me all along. I am not a blind man, just a man who sees differently.”
“You’re welcome,” Lorne said quietly before he cleared his throat. “She loves you, Julian. You can no’ see her face as she looks at you, but I can. The Crianlarich’s woman loves only one man, and that’s you.”
“Aye,” he said wearily as he rubbed his jaw. “But she does no’ love me enough, Lorne.”
With those last words, Julian left his friend’s office and headed toward his room. Lorne’s observation reflected a conclusion he’d come to this morning. Patience would not have suggested a reconciliation if she didn’t care for him. He simply asked more of her than she was willing to give. The throbbing in his head was still at a low threshold, but he knew lying down would help avoid another migraine. The last thing he wanted was being at the mercy of Patience’s tender care. It would be his personal version of hell. The thought made him grunt. He was already in hell, and the pain of it would only intensify when Patience left.
Worse, when she left, it would be on the arm of another man. His head throbbed at the thought, and he grimaced. He’d not done much to help the situation by mentioning Una. Lying about the woman’s attendance at Muireall’s party had been beneath him, but it had been impossible not to strike out in the face of Branson’s presence. The thought of appearing weak to the enemy was not something he could stomach.
Julian entered his room, closed the door behind him, and rested his cane at the foot of the bed. He turned toward the window. The tall, narrow-shaped panes of glass revealed a bright, ye dingy gray, patch of color framed by dark drapes. Wishing he could see the scenery from the window, he took several steps forward.
In all the time he’d lived in the castle, he’d never seen the view from the Crianlarich’s room. As a child, his father’s room had been off limits. The old Crianlarich had been possessive of his status and belongings. The quiet sound of the door to Patience’s room opening made him stiffen. God help him, what did she want with him now? He didn’t move as he waited for her to speak.
“Una Bensmore and her father are downstairs,” she said in a strained voice. “They’re demanding to see Aiden.”
Patience’s announcement made him go rigid. Bloody hell. Had Patience been forced to speak with the woman? He turned to face her.
“What did she say to you?” he growled softly ready to make Una’s head roll at the slightest provocation.
“I didn’t speak to her…I was at the top of the stairs when they arrived a few moments ago. Mr. Bensmore demanded that Mrs. Drummond bring Aiden downstairs.” Although her voice was composed, he could hear the trepidation and the residual pain the woman had caused them both.
Anger tightened his muscles. Una had obviously told her father that Aiden was Caitriona’s child. But why had she waited so long to do so? As always, Una’s timing was impeccable. The woman always managed to pick the worst possible moment to cause trouble. Julian nodded his head, ignoring the pain the gesture caused him.
“I’ll deal with it.”
“You won’t let them take Aiden away…will you?” The tentative question made him slowly turn toward her.
“Does it matter? You will no’ be here to care.” The moment he said the harsh, unfeeling words, he regretted them, but it was too late to take them back.
“He’s far too sweet for you to give him to that woman, Julian,” she snapped. “Una Bensmore will destroy that child either with indulgence or contempt.”
Julian didn’t answer her. Instead he retrieved his cane and headed for the door. Fingers wrapped around the door knob, he opened the door and paused.
“You do no’ have a say in the matter anymore, Patience. You gave up that right the minute you chose to go back to London and your Dr. Branson.” Not waiting for her reply, he continued out into the hallway to make his way downstairs for the battle that would ensue. It wasn’t something he welcomed at the moment. The sooner he could retreat to his bed, the better. But he was damned if he’d let Bensmore come into his home and make demands. Secondly, he refused to let the man take his brother from Crianlarich Castle.
Chapter 15
* * *
Patience flinched at the sound of angry voices coming out of the drawing room as she slowly crossed the hall floor. Mr. Bensmore roared out a fiery denouncement at a q
uiet response from Julian. She desperately wanted to enter the salon to support him, but her feet dragged at the prospect. Una Bensmore was in that room and she had as much desire to face the woman as she did a snake. Julian said something she couldn’t hear, and it seemed to increase Bensmore’s ire. Patience came to a stop just outside the drawing room to listen to the argument.
“Una has told me everything, Crianlarich,” Caitriona’s father said with a mix of anger and anguish.
“Exactly what is it Una has told you?”
“She says Caitriona’s son did not die, and that you refused to let her bring the child home where he belongs.”
“And when did she share this news with you?”
“Last night,” Bensmore snarled. “The lass came sobbing to me, saying she could no’ bear tae keep the truth from me any longer.”
“Forgive me, but I find that difficult to believe,” Julian said with cool skepticism. “Una has rarely done anything that did no’ serve her own interests first.”
“Tis no’ true,” Una exclaimed angrily. Julian uttered a noise of contempt.
“I speak the truth. You care about your own needs and comforts ahead of anyone else,” Julian replied in a harsh voice that dared her to challenge him a second time. “Which makes me wonder why you chose this moment in time to tell your father about the boy.”
“I thought I could honor Caitriona’s wishes, but the thought of her wee bairn growing up here without a mother’s love was breaking my heart.”
Una’s defiant words made Patience bite down on her lip. The woman was right, when she left Crianlarich, the only woman to serve as Aiden’s surrogate mother would be Muireall. Julian’s sister was young and didn’t deserve such a burden, no matter how willing the girl might be to care for her young brother. Guilt swept through Patience. She had only to bare her heart to Julian, and she wouldn’t have to leave Crianlarich. It was a terrifying thought when she hardly had the courage to admit the truth to herself.