Chapter Seven
After giving vent to her despair, Mia wiped her eyes and admonished herself.
What an ungrateful fool I am.
Hundreds—no, thousands—had died in agony of smallpox and countless other diseases. The Almighty had chosen to spare her, yet, rather than reflect on her good fortune, she was sobbing on a rock in one of the most beautiful places she’d ever seen.
How Dr. McIver would have chastised her! He had bestowed upon her his knowledge of medicine, taught her almost everything he knew. He’d even emptied his purse to fund her journey to the Highlands. How ungrateful she was to set aside her good fortune and ignore the feelings of others.
In all honesty, could she blame Lord MacLennan for his reaction?
Believing that she had died, he’d done what any self-respecting man would do—what she herself had charged him to do.
He’d moved on for the benefit of his estate and found another bride.
And a beautiful bride at that. Mia knew of the Honorable Aurora Young.
A haughty and unpleasant creature. Olivia Whitcombe, or Lady Devereaux as she was now, loathed her.
But Aurora had every right to think well of herself, for she had the face of an angel.
Quite what had happened to result in her marrying an impoverished Highlander rather than a wealthy London lord, Mia couldn’t fathom.
But they would have made a handsome couple, Hamish with his rugged, masculine good looks and Aurora with her porcelain beauty.
No wonder Hamish was angry! His hopes were dashed when Mia arrived at the chapel, a ghost in solid form, of whom no exorcism could rid him.
But she could not weather that anger, nor make her home where she was not wanted. Neither could she spend the rest of the day hiding among the rocks like a frightened child. She must face the consequences of her arrival—speak to him on equal terms, no matter how much the prospect frightened her.
He couldn’t insult her more than he had already.
Mia smoothed her skirts, picked up her valise, and returned to the main building.
She spotted a carriage on the driveway and allowed herself a moment of hope.
Perhaps she might be granted passage to Edinburgh.
As she approached, she saw Lord Young bundle his daughter into the carriage, Hamish by his side, a handful of children watching in wide-eyed wonder.
Aurora tripped and let out a cry.
“Stop your sniveling!” Lord Young snapped. “Wait until we return home, then I’ll give you something to snivel about.”
“Lord Young, there’s no need to—” Hamish started.
“There’s every need, MacLennan. She’s still my concern, worse luck.
You’ve got your burden to bear with that pockmarked—” Lord Young broke off as he glanced up and met Mia’s gaze.
“Get yourself in the carriage, Aurora, before you catch the pox.” He gestured to Mia. “Stay back, lest you infect us all!”
One of the watching children burst into tears.
“Lord Young, there’s no risk of infection,” Mia said. “Please may I travel with you?”
“Don’t be preposterous!” he said. “We wouldn’t travel with one such as you, even if you weren’t riddled with the pox.”
“I’ll sit outside with the footmen, if you prefer.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I’ll not have you come within ten feet of my carriage—”
“My carriage,” a deep voice said, and Mia’s heart fluttered as she turned to see her husband staring directly at her, his eyes like two hard, unyielding emeralds.
“I say who does and does not travel in the carriage, Lord Young. Though I agree that the lass will not travel with ye. Now, go. Dinnae test my patience more than ye have already.”
“Your patience?” Lord Young said. “After the way you’ve insulted me?”
“For fuck’s sake!” Hamish cried, and Mia drew in a sharp breath at the anger in his voice. “Do ye think I wanted this?”
Lord Young curled his lip in a sneer. “I wish you joy of her,” he snarled. Then he climbed in after his sobbing daughter and closed the door.
“No—wait!” Mia cried, running toward the carriage. “Please let me go.”
But before she reached it, the huge Highlander blocked her path.
“Ye’re going nowhere, lass.”
He caught her arm as the carriage set off.
No matter how she struggled, his grip remained firm and unyielding.
Then, as the carriage disappeared into the trees, he released her.
The sound of the horses’ hooves faded until all Mia could hear was the steady breathing of her captor, the rush of wind in the trees, and the soft wailing of the crying child.
“Why didn’t you let me go?” she asked.
Ignoring her, he strode toward the chapel, where a handful of guests still milled about.
“Did you not hear me”—she hesitated, unwilling to remind him of the contract that bound them—“Lord MacLennan?”
He stopped, then turned to face her. Another child joined in the wailing.
“For fuck’s sake!” he cursed, and balled his hands into fists.
“What must I do?” Mia cried.
He lifted his hand to his face, then brushed it across his brow, as if wearied by the weight of the world. Then, at length, he sighed and slumped his shoulders, as if in defeat.
“Cover yerself up and get inside,” he said gruffly, gesturing to the castle building. “Ye’re frightening the children.”
Mia bit her lip to stem a cry of despair.
Loathe her he might, but she’d not hide herself away in shame.
Clutching her valise, she tilted her chin up, then, with as much dignity as she could feign, approached the huge, arched doorway of the castle building.
The guests parted, flowing back like a receding tide as she walked past, almost as if they were welcoming her as a new bride into their home.
But a home was where one was loved, cherished, and wanted—or tolerated at the very least.
Therefore, Mia had no home.