Chapter Ten #2
“Aye,” he said, his voice a low growl, “but I never expected our marriage to last.”
Mia let out a mirthless laugh. “I suspect I’m more surprised than you that I survived. Certainly I feel the impact to a greater degree than yourself.”
He lifted his hand to his face and brushed it across his forehead.
Despite her indignation at the cruel words he’d spoken, she couldn’t help the swell of compassion at the strain in his eyes brought about by having a large estate to care for, with all the tenants and servants who depended on him.
In London, Mr. Stockton had painted a pretty portrait of Hamish MacLennan as an honorable man striving to do what was best for others under dire financial circumstances.
And, perhaps, had his anger and revulsion today not been directed toward her, Mia might have loved him for it—as she believed she might have come to love him had he not rejected her so soundly.
“Well,” he said, “ye have survived. I must therefore decide what to do. Which is why”—he leaned back—“why I wish for an annulment. I dinnae see it as an impossibility, provided that—”
“Provided that I’m in agreement?” Mia said.
“Provided that the marriage has not been consummated. I doubt it would be difficult to prove that ye and I have not”—he made a random gesture between them—“given that…” He lifted his gaze to her face and flinched.
“Given that my looks make it impossible for any man to consider me worthy of bedding?”
“That’s not a subject a woman should speak of.”
“Not even when she’s your wife, which I am at present, even though you wish I weren’t?”
“Do ye not also wish for an annulment?”
She paused, letting in the hopes and dreams she’d clung to during the past fortnight.
They swirled in her mind, the images of her huge Highlander sweeping her into his strong arms and kissing her into ecstasy.
Then she pushed them to the back of her mind, like an old trunk filled with childish toys, to be consigned to the attic to gather dust while she ventured out into the real world.
At length, she nodded, ignoring the shard of pain in her heart at the relief in his eyes. “I agree that it would be more conducive to my happiness to be alone and unmarried rather than married and unwanted.”
“Is that a yes?”
How dare he! Did he think to reject her then claim that she welcomed it?
“I have a condition,” she said.
His jaw bulged as if he gritted his teeth.
“Be not alarmed, sir, that I wish to remain here forever. You’ve made it plain that my presence here would be detrimental to your happiness and the welfare of your people. We wouldn’t want my face to frighten them again, would we?”
Drawing consolation from the flicker of guilt in his eyes, she continued.
“From what I understand—and forgive the limited understanding of one of my sex—the purpose of an annulment is to render a marriage invalid, as if it had not taken place at all. Yes?”
He tilted his head to one side, then nodded. “Aye.”
“Therefore, both parties should be placed in the position in which they found themselves the moment before the marriage took place.”
He continued to stare, but she could see no understanding in his expression.
“The same position,” she said, “in every respect.”
He shook his head. “Forgive me—every respect?”
“The same financial position.”
This time there was no mistaking it. Understanding flooded his expression, followed by a flash of fury. “Ye cannae mean…”
“That would be fair, would it not?” Mia said.
“From yer perspective.”
“And yours,” she retorted. “I assume your purpose in disposing of me is not only to find yourself a wife whose face you can look at without retching, but also one with a dowry large enough to meet your monetary demands.” She took his silence as agreement.
“It seems only fair, therefore, to return the dowry that you took from me.” She arched her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side. “Yes?”
He blinked slowly. “I dinnae have it.”
“Then I’ll remain here until you do,” she said.
“Consider your dislike of my presence as an incentive to acquire it.” He opened his mouth, most likely to protest, and she raised her hand, tempering the anger simmering in her gut.
“I take it you’re not so without feeling as to want me to leave here destitute, compelled to use my body to earn a living? ”
He shifted in his seat, the first sign of discomfort.
“And,” she continued, “you must agree that my prospects of earning a living in such a manner are nonexistent, given I have the face of…what was it?” She placed a finger on her chin. “Yes, that was it…a pockmarked witch.”
His left eyelid twitched and he lowered his gaze.
“All I ask is that you return what you took from me,” she said. “But I won’t demand immediate payment.”
“That’s just as well, lass,” he said. “It might take months before I have the means.”
“You’ll find me a patient woman.”
“And then what will ye do?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Seeing as you’re so eager to rid yourself of me, I’ll return to England, to train as a doctor. I know a little—”
“Women cannae be doctors.”
“That’s what most men believe,” she huffed. “Fortunately, Dr. McIver has a little more wit than the rest of your sex. He’s taught me enough to understand what ails your mother, for example.”
“I’ll not have ye interfering with Ma’s illness,” he said. “But if ye are to remain here at my expense”—he held up his hand as she opened her mouth to protest—“ye cannae spend yer days languishing in idleness and frivolity. We’ve no time for pampered ladies here.”
This time her laugh was genuine. “I take it you knew very little of the Honorable Aurora Young.”
“She had a dowry,” he said. “That’s all I needed to know.”
“So did I,” Mia said.
Heavens! She’d thought her wastrel cousin was the worst of all men, but the giant sitting before her, who seemed intent on insulting her in every manner possible, had earned that title ten times over.
Mia rose to her feet.
“I haven’t dismissed ye yet.”
“I’m not your servant!” she retorted. “I am your guest until the matter is resolved. But do not fear. I am not afraid of hard work, and I can…”
She paused, recalling the pain in Lady MacLennan’s eyes. Hamish’s anger was a small price to pay for championing that poor woman.
“Despite what you may think, I can alleviate your mother’s pain. I know how expensive doctors can be—particularly when they’re summoned from Edinburgh at their patient’s expense.”
He drew in a sharp breath, and she nodded.
“Yes, your mother discussed the matter with me.”
“Whatever for?”
“Perhaps because I’m a member of the family by marriage.
At least until you dispose of me.” She let out a sigh.
“I don’t wish to quarrel with you, sir. I’ll agree to an annulment on the terms already discussed.
And, in return for your hospitality while awaiting payment, I’m willing to serve the people of Glenblath in the manner I best know how—as a physician. ”
He shook his head and she leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk.
“At least let me try,” she said. “I’ll treat anyone who needs it and will ask for no payment. I can even make arrangements for the people here to be vaccinated.”
“To be…what?”
Mia gestured to her face. “Wouldn’t you want to protect the people you love against this?”
He flinched, and she swallowed her sorrow at his revulsion. Having survived smallpox, she might have gained an immunity against the disease—but would she ever become immune to the disgust of others?
“If you prefer, I can live elsewhere,” she said.
“I need only a small home and enough room so that I might treat the sick. If I’m not in this castle, you’re spared the ordeal of having to look at me.
Then you can ready yourself and your household for the arrival of my replacement with a clear conscience. ”
He blinked again, and she caught something akin to shame in his eyes—shame and defeat. Then she straightened her stance.
“Do we have a deal, sir?”
Slowly, he rose to his feet, scraping the chair back. Then he extended his hand.
For a moment Mia stared at it, then she lowered her gaze to the scars across the back of her own hand.
“Are you quite sure, Lord MacLennan, that you wish to place yourself at risk of infection…or a curse?”
He hesitated, his eyes shining with guilt, then reached forward and took her hand.
A fizz of sensation rippled across her skin and she moved to withdraw, but he tightened his grip, curling his fingers around hers.
With the pad of his thumb, he caressed her skin, and she caught her breath at a hot little pulse in her center.
A low growl seemed to reverberate in his chest as a spark of gold glittered in the depths of his eyes, like a faint, pulsating star growing brighter with each heartbeat.
His nostrils flared and he leaned forward, bringing his face close, and Mia caught the scent of wood, smoke, and peat—the primal scent of man and beast. Her gaze fell to his lips, and she let out a low cry as they parted and his soft, warm breath caressed her face.
“Aye, Lady MacLennan,” he said, his voice thick and low. “I am quite sure.”
His tongue flicked out and he ran it across his lower lip. Mia’s stomach curled with an unfathomable need and something swelled inside her—a knot of primal desire.
No!
Desire was not something she could surrender to—not when no man would ever find her desirable again.
Her cheeks flaming, she broke free and stepped back. But rather than relief in his eyes, she saw disappointment.