2. ROSINA
Chapter two
ROSINA
He had changed. His face had taken on the strong jaw and square chin of a mature man, and his shoulders were wider and thicker.
He stood behind Ewen with the rest of his brothers, his dark blue eyes fixed on the altar.
The wedding service was under way and Elspit was marrying her true love after all this time.
It was the sort of happy ending Rosina had never thought possible, and it shook her.
Love and happy-ever-afters were for na?ve fools.
She’d learned that the hard way and she was unlikely to ever trust her heart to a man again.
Unlike Ewen, who had promised to return to Elspit, Dugald had gone without even a goodbye.
He could have taken Rosina with him, she would have been willing, but he hadn’t given her that option.
After the confrontation with the laird he had walked away without a word.
One moment he was there and the next he was gone, and her mother was quick to tell her that she was a fool to have trusted him.
A man like that! A boy with no thought but his cock. You were easy meat for him. Rumour is your bed was barely cold and he was climbing into another’s.
Rosina realised she was staring at him and quickly looked away. Elspit and Ewen were kissing and a moment later they turned to their family and well-wishers, their faces bright with elation.
Rosina felt as if a stone had lodged in her chest. She wasn’t jealous—she had grown to love Elspit like a sister—so she wasn’t sure what this sensation meant.
Tears stung her eyes and she stared hard without blinking until they dried up.
A hand slid into hers and she looked down at her daughter’s worried face.
Mary had her mother’s dark hair but her eyes were blue, a dark blue.
There could be no denying whose daughter she was, but Rosina had no intention of saying anything to Dugald, and so far he had said nothing to her.
She tried to tell herself she was satisfied with that, but the stone in her heart only grew heavier.
“Rosina?” Her mother’s fingers were sharp, nails digging into her wrist, so unlike Mary’s warm, comforting hold. The bitterness and dissatisfaction on Jeanette Gordon’s face was plain to see. “I want you to have supper with me tonight. There is no need for you to attend the celebrations.”
Her mother was making it her business to prevent Rosina from falling under Dugald’s spell again. Not that she would.
“I must attend the celebrations, Mother,” she said evenly. “Elspit is my friend as well as my lady.”
Jeanette hmphed.
“Oh no, Grandmother,” Mary cut in, “you must stay too! It will be so much fun. Ewen Campbell’s squire Robbie said he will be here and—”
Both Rosina and her mother said “No” at the same time.
Rosina bit her lip, but Jeanette went on, telling Mary that she was not to have anything to do with the Campbells and their retinue.
Rosina stepped away, feeling disorientated.
She really was turning into her mother and she didn’t want to be her.
Mary was a good girl, a little too serious for her age, but Rosina had been the same.
Mary was sensible. She did not need to be told what was right and what was wrong all the time. She needed to be trusted.
That she wasn’t trusted was because of the circumstances of her birth. By bearing an illegitimate child to a man so far beneath her—in Jeanette’s eyes anyway—Rosina had stained the Gordon family name. Now Jeanette was worried Mary would do more damage.
The Gordon family name! As if there was anything left of it apart from memories of the past. And yet her mother still believed that one day all would be repaired, that their family would rise again.
Rosina lifted her gaze and suddenly she was held captive by a pair of dark blue eyes. For a moment she could do nothing but stare back, and then someone called his name and Dugald turned away. Suddenly she could breathe again.
It was nothing, she told herself. A momentary lapse.
“Come, Mother.” Impatiently Mary was tugging at her hand, leading her after the bridal party to the great hall. Rosina tried to hang back but soon she was close enough to hear the Campbell brothers’ conversation.
“The people of Castle Tighe will remember this day forever.” It was Finlay Campbell who spoke.
He stood straight, like the soldier he was.
“Unlike the old laird Ewen will treat everyone equally. He will set out laws for all his people, and not pretend there are different ones for those who pay for the privilege in coin.”
“Or lies.”
It was Dugald’s voice but she didn’t look up.
Did he mean her? Rosina knew she had broken her vows to him, the ones made during their hand fasting, but he had broken his too.
She refused to believe he still cared. It was all so long ago, and he would be gone soon. Rosina prayed it would be very soon.
***
Elspit and Ewen did not stay long, they were eager to be alone together.
The great hall reverberated to laughter and coarse jokes, and Rosina decided it was time to slip away.
Mary had been seated with Robbie the squire, their heads close together, but Rosina had kept an eye on them.
Now she went to fetch her daughter, ignoring her protests, and they began to make their way back to the small house her mother lived in outside the bailey.
“Wait!”
His voice. Every muscle in her body stiffened—fear of what he might say and dread at bringing up the past, and also something else.
Something very like hope. Whatever he was coming to tell her Rosina knew she would prefer her daughter not to hear it.
“Hurry now,” she said. “I will catch you up soon.”
Mary glanced behind her, her eyes wide, and then took off at a run.
She felt the heat of his body behind hers, and when he stepped in front of her, a strand of his dark hair fell over his eye. He raked his fingers through it, frown lines creasing his brow as he stared down at her. There was no warmth in his face.
“When were you going to tell me?” he said, and there was gravel in his voice, a deepness she didn’t remember hearing before. But of course he was a man now, a twenty-six year old man.
“Tell you what?” she asked, as if she didn’t know.
He nodded in the direction Mary had gone. “My daughter,” he said coldly.
There were so many emotions she was feeling right then, but anger and betrayal were at the top of the list, so she went with them. “You have no right to her. You left before she was born so why do you think I should tell you about her?”
His frown grew. “When I left I didn’t know you were with child.”
“Would it have mattered?” she hissed. She pushed past him, striding out, but he stopped her again by the simple act of stepping in front of her, his big body making a barrier to freedom.
“Yes,” he said.
She looked up at him and suddenly she was too weary for this. It had been a long day, a longer two days, and she had had enough of him. “So you would have stayed for our unborn child, but not for me?” she said.
He stared back at her, silent. Good.
She went to step around him but he held her arm, and his fingers seemed to burn her skin through her sleeve. She went still. “Where are you going?” he demanded. “Don’t you live in the castle?”
“Lady Elspit does not need me tonight. I cannot sleep in her room now she is married. My mother lives beyond the wall and I will stay with her.”
He turned to stare into the darkness. “It isn’t safe,” he said.
There was nothing she could answer to that, except that it wasn’t his business. She pulled away. “Goodnight, Dugald,” she said with icy pride.
And left him there.