Harlequin Historical July 2020 - Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  ‘It has been war here,’ he said. ‘Without violence, but no different.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, the look of relief on her face doing something to that vulnerable place inside him that she had just discovered.

  ‘If you see to the planning of this, then it will happen. I will… I will trust you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He moved towards her, but she shrank back. Rage filled him. He had the strongest desire to pull her against him anyway. To ignore her fear. Her reluctance.

  But his father felt far too close to the surface of his veins and he’d meant what he said. There were many women who would have him. He’d no need to slake himself with her fear.

  He did not know why it was different here. He didn’t know why she had given herself to him willingly on the road, but in the castle she acted as if the idea disgusted her.

  Perhaps she was afraid for her life, then?

  He gritted his teeth. ‘I don’t want to be troubled with the details of this.’

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘Good. At least there is some use for you.’

  And with that, he left her as abruptly as he had come into the room. He raged down the hall, all the way out of the castle. He knew where he could find a lightskirt. That had, of course, been one of the first things his men had made sure to inform him of.

  He could make merry with her. Give her that moment of hope that his wife was so entranced with.

  But he thought of the way Penny had looked at him before she had shrunk back. When she had looked at him with hope that he might not disappoint her. That he might understand her. Do what she felt was right.

  And he knew he was in no fit state to be with a woman.

  ‘William,’ he said, finding his man lounging in the courtyard. ‘Pick up your sword.’

  What he could not work out in the bedroom, he would work out on a created battlefield.

  * * *

  After a few hours of steel hitting steel, he felt exhausted.

  But his desire was still not satisfied. There was only so much that talking could fix.

  And he might feel a sense of pride that his wife had thought of dealing with the clan in a softer way…but he did not like having to participate in…levity.

  Still, he would allow her to have her way here.

  For whatever she thought, he had no wish to crush her. None at all.

  If anything gave him hope for his grim soul, it might well be that.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The planning of the feast had been…interesting, to say the least. Mostly because it had forced her to lock horns with the indomitable Rona.

  The other woman did not like her interfering with matters of the household, but Penny had a vision for what was to occur and she needed her help to accomplish it.

  They had fought over the menu, over the acquisition of the food.

  It had required sending men on a long journey to Edinburgh in order to acquire all that would be needed.

  The land here would be restored, but as of now, anything that needed this sort of excess… There was no excess to be had. But her husband had money. A great deal of it.

  When the men returned, they not only had what was required for the party, but had brought staples that they could store. So that there would be more bread, cakes even. There was flour and sugar, and butter.

  And Rona’d had to admit that perhaps Penny wasn’t so bad, as she had convinced the Laird to open his purse to this extent.

  But the next order of business was to inform the people in the village. Yet again, Penny selected herself as ambassador. They were, of course, wary. There had been nothing like this for longer than many of them could remember. No celebrations, for there had been little to celebrate. Anything extra had gone to Lachlan’s father. To the lavish lifestyle he was bent on living in town. Just the mention of a celebration had gone a long way in proving to people that Lachlan might be different.

  If he was willing to spend his riches on the people here, then perhaps that was a sign that things would continue to improve.

  It made her feel useful. It made her feel…

  This was what she’d needed. Lachlan made chaos reign in her heart and body and she’d hated that. The sense her emotions were no longer in her control.

  Sitting in silence had always been the enemy. Her own thoughts. Her own heart.

  But she could make a difference here. She didn’t have to sit around and wait and feel.

  She could act.

  And so she did.

  * * *

  When she and Isla approached the McLaren residence, they both paused. ‘They will be invited, too,’ Penny said, feeling determined. She was nearing the door when she caught sight of the girl again.

  Her heart jumped and she moved forward.

  ‘You,’ Penny said.

  The girl stopped and met her gaze, wide-eyed. ‘What’s your name?’ Penny asked.

  ‘Nothing of consequence,’ the girl said.

  ‘But I’ve asked. And I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you mine.’

  ‘I know who you are. The MacKenzie’s fancy piece.’

  ‘His wife.’ Penny refused to allow a child to offend her. ‘Lady Penelope Bain. We’re here to invite you and your family to the castle for celebration.’

  The girl contorted her face. ‘Why would we ever go there?’

  ‘There will be dancing. Food.’

  ‘I don’t think my father will go.’

  ‘Does he have to? It seems to me you’re well capable of sneaking off when you wish.’

  ‘I don’t do anything of the sort.’ The girl scowled even deeper.

  Penny looked down meaningfully at the girl’s rounded belly. The girl shifted, moving her dress.

  ‘Don’t be afraid of me. I want to help you. I… Does he know?’

  The girl’s eyes widened. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘You’re with child. It’s not well hidden.’

  ‘Hidden well enough.’

  ‘But you won’t be able to hide a baby so easily.’

  ‘I have time.’

  ‘The father?’

  The girl looked away. ‘Not from here.’

  ‘And you don’t know him?’

  ‘Well, he just took what he wanted. Didn’t ask me.’

  Anger and horror twisted inside Penelope. ‘You were forced?’

  ‘I’m not an idiot. I know what happens to women who say yes to men. Look at my mother and her twelve children.’

  ‘Does your mother know you were forced?’

  ‘She doesn’t believe me. And if she does, she doesn’t care. It only makes me more foolish that I put myself in such a position. Men are men. You cannae keep them from their nature.’

  Penny’s whole heart rebelled against that. But this wasn’t the time for lectures. It was the time for action. ‘What’s going to happen to you?’

  ‘Can’t say as I know. I couldn’t get rid of it.’ The girl frowned. ‘I tried. It didn’t work. It’s still there.’

  Pity overwhelmed Penny. Along with fear. The girl was in danger. The baby was clearly in danger. And they had no one to protect them. And this, again, was something she could do. She was not helpless. She was Lady Bain.

  She’d been a helpless girl locked in a room, once. And no one had possessed the authority to help her. No one but her father.

  But this girl… Penny could help this girl.

  ‘Listen to me. When the time comes, you can come to the castle. You’ll be welcomed in. I’ll bring a midwife to help you. We’ll keep you safe.’

  The girl looked shocked, then afraid. Penny could understand. Those closest to her were not offering help. Why wouldn’t she be suspicious of a stranger offering it? ‘I don’t need help.’

  ‘There’s no
shame in needing help.’

  The sound of voices came from inside the house and the girl jumped slightly.

  ‘Go,’ she said.

  ‘Will you tell your parents that they’re invited?’

  ‘Won’t make a difference. You can’t fix us. You can’t fix me.’

  The girl lowered her head and walked away, hunched over herself and the babe she carried.

  ‘I’m beginning to recognise the expression on your face,’ Isla said.

  ‘What expression is that?’ Penny asked, staring after the girl.

  ‘That one that says you’re ready to try to do the impossible.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got Lachlan to agree to throw a party at the castle. I’d say I do quite well with the impossible.’

  ‘Aye,’ Isla said. ‘I’d say that you do.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was the day of the grand celebration and the amount of food was stunning. There were places to sit out in front of the castle. The door stood open. Tables and blankets were placed everywhere. There were musicians and dancers.

  The great stone courtyard had a massive bonfire roaring at its centre. And food…there was such a feast laid out, for all. Not simply the chieftains and other gentry, but for the whole of the clan. Fish, game and fowl. Breads and cakes.

  Everyone was dressed in their finest—whatever that might mean. From faded gowns that looked to have passed through several generations, to sweeping great kilts in different tartans.

  It was quite unlike anything to ever grace the clan before. At least, not in Lachlan’s memory.

  And Penny was at the centre of the preparation. Her hair was a tangle, her eyes bright. She was wearing a dress that, if he was not mistaken, must’ve come from one of the maids.

  She was working. And she looked…happy. Happier than he had ever seen her, certainly.

  They had a few hours yet until the festivities began and she seemed bound and determined to have a hand in every last bit.

  For his part, he had done nothing.

  But this was her business. Her idea. He was still not convinced that it would have a bearing on anything. She was the one who seemed absolutely certain that it was necessary to the happiness of the clan.

  The smell of meat roasting on spits was thick in the air, along with music, laughter and bawdy songs.

  Inside the great hall, the setting was yet more grand. People filled the room, both from Clan MacKenzie and from other clans who had come from near and far. A mix of people and times. For this felt more like the stories of old, from when the clans had endless power and resources, and had not been touched by England.

  The music was from an era gone by. The food—by virtue of the sheer, vast quantity—was as well.

  This was the Highlands. The clan. Scotland. In a deep, essential way that stirred his blood.

  One thing he had not considered was what a great demonstration of strength and power this was.

  Because excess like this did nothing to dent his wealth, yet it was far beyond anything his people would have seen in more than a generation.

  ‘You’ve done well,’ he said.

  She paused, looking startled. ‘Well. Thank you. A surprise coming from you, considering that you’ve had little to do with the process.’

  ‘You didn’t need me.’

  Something flashed in her blue eyes and, somehow, he felt an echo of it in his chest. He couldn’t name it or hold on to it. But he felt it all the same.

  ‘Well. It doesn’t matter. Everything is in hand.’

  ‘The clans will see how powerful Clan MacKenzie is. We are not on the brink of destruction. Not any more.’

  ‘I did not have cakes made as an act of war. Please don’t turn it into one.’

  ‘Who said anything about war? But it is clear that we are the strongest.’

  ‘That right there. Not everything has to be about strength.’

  ‘It does. The reality of the world is that the winner will always be the strongest.’

  ‘That’s bleak. Why does there have to be a winner? Why can’t people simply live and be happy?’

  ‘Because there will always be a conqueror. Always. And if you are not a conqueror, you will be the conquered.’

  ‘Truths learned in war?’

  ‘Truth is learned here. In my whole life. Had I stayed here, this clan would have been conquered by my father’s greed. I went to England to try to make my fortune. Your father bested me. I had to obtain power. I had to obtain strength. Had I not done so, these people would have fallen into ruin.’

  ‘I can see that,’ she said softly. ‘But you’re not at war any more.’

  ‘There is always a war on the horizon. Even if it is not war as you think of it. You must always be prepared. You cannot show weakness.’

  ‘What about kindness?’

  He looked around. ‘You have done that for the both of us.’

  ‘They might like to see it from you.’ Her words were soft, the touch of her fingertips on his arm softer still. But he felt it, like the blow from a weapon, so hard it radiated through him, settling low in his stomach.

  ‘Do you intend to dance tonight? To show them that you have a bit of humour?’

  ‘Why would I do that? I haven’t got humour.’

  ‘You don’t think so? I thought sometimes it felt as though we found some together,’ she said, looking sad. Why was she sad? She had got what she wanted. And as for the way things were between the two of them, it had been her decision.

  If there was distance, it was not down to his choice.

  The back of his teeth ached. She was lovely, even now, even in this scullery maid’s costume. It was confounding. As was she.

  ‘There has been no room for it in my life.’

  ‘Well, show them that you’re human tonight.’

  ‘Why? I would show them that I am a king.’

  ‘You don’t have to struggle to show that, Lachlan. But you might have to work a bit to show them that you have a heart.’

  ‘The people don’t need to know their leader has a heart. They need to know I have a sword.’

  And with that, he left her. But something about the conversation lingered with him. Made him feel disquiet.

  He did prepare himself, putting on a great kilt, his sword at his hip. He was ready to make a display, both for his people and for the guests.

  * * *

  When it was time, he went between the connecting doors to his and Penny’s room, again without knocking.

  ‘It’s time,’ he said.

  ‘You might knock,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t have to do any such thing, lass,’ he said. ‘It is my castle. My domain.’

  ‘How nice for you.’

  She had transformed from when he had last seen her in the courtyard, overseeing the preparations.

  And she was beautiful. Even angry at him. Her blonde hair was pinned low on her neck, her gown a delicate gold, the neckline low and wide revealing the creamy curves of breasts he had nearly forgotten the touch and taste of. She was a vixen, this woman.

  She haunted his dreams and he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t so.

  She had bewitched him in some manner. He had had no answer for her when she had asked him about the jewellery box and he was convinced it was somehow related to his exile. But the only answer that he’d been able to find, there beneath the discomfort of his skin, had been that he had cared. Had cared about whether or not she was happy. And that did not seem real or possible in any regard. He was a man driven by revenge. A man driven by duty, honour and a sense of what was right. A man determined to be the very opposite of his father, Who had been hot-blooded and driven by such weaker devices as his feelings.

  She looked up at him, an air of defiance in her blue eyes.

  He took hold of her arm and it lit
him up like the fire in the great hearth. ‘It’s time for us to meet our guests.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said. But her smile was cold. ‘You must behave, Lachlan.’

  ‘I am Laird here. I determine the behaviour.’

  ‘Then don’t turn this into a funeral. It is meant to be a happy occasion.’

  ‘I will do my best not to frighten small children.’

  ‘Please do.’ She paused for a moment. ‘That man…the one who challenged you. I invited his family to the celebration. He’s consumed with drink and his wife and children live in fear of him. They don’t have enough food…’

  ‘There will be enough food,’ he said, his voice grim. ‘For everyone. As for the rest, it is a tragedy to be sure. And were I to ever witness a man harming his wife or children the consequence would be severe.’

  ‘That isn’t enough. We have to do something.’

  ‘We are. This changes things. You have to have some trust in that. You cannot heal all the ills of the world, lass.’

  ‘Isn’t that what you’re trying to do? Heal the ills of the world by pouring your money back into this clan? How is what I want any different?’

  ‘There is a system here. A structure. The people here work the land and they should benefit from it. My father stole. Profited off the backs of his labourers in an unjust manner. That I can restore. That I can heal. The rest… That is up to them.’

  That seemed to infuriate her, but she said no more because they were descending the stairs, and making their way towards the great hall. That was where they were announced by one of the chieftains. He as the Laird—and she as his lady.

  The crowd of people let up a cheer as they made their way into the great hall. This was a hero’s welcome.

  This was the welcome Penny’s actions had brought to him.

  He had not truly understood what she was doing, planning this. But now that he stood here, surveying the people, the food, he understood. It was not only a demonstration for the people, but for him. Of what it meant to be here. Of what it truly was to be home.

  And Penny was by his side.

  She might not wish to take him into her bed, but she was here. And she was his.

  The possessiveness he felt was strange. For while he understood the desire to possess, and to protect…