3. DUGALD
Chapter three
DUGALD
Dugald was furious. No matter what she thought of him, he refused to have Rosina and his daughter living in a hovel beyond the safety of the walls of Castle Tighe. He simply would not allow it.
The next morning he made arrangements with the castle guard to have the women moved into unused rooms in the castle itself. By the time they arrived, flustered and angry, their belongings bundled with them, the rooms had been cleared of the mess and made habitable.
Lord Tighe had kept his personal bodyguard in those rooms, the men who watched his back in case a knife was thrust into it.
Ewen didn’t need a personal bodyguard. He had been greeted with relief by the people and he had his brothers and his own loyal band of men.
Dugald had not asked his brother’s permission to make the change—he was still in bed with his new wife—but if there were problems he would talk to him.
Ewen, he was sure, would agree with his judgment.
Now Rosina eyed him with those chilly grey eyes as he stood with his arms crossed.
“We are not your business,” she told him in a low voice, with a glance toward her daughter.
She stepped closer, and he saw that her face was pale and there were shadows under her eyes, while her dark hair was yet to be properly brushed and tidied.
A sleepless night? He wondered if she had been thinking about him, and it seemed only fair because he had been thinking about her.
She believed he should have come to her before he left ten years ago.
Perhaps she was right, but Dugald had been angry and bitter after their hand fasting had been overturned by the Laird of Tighe.
The man had mocked them both, laughing at the fact that Dugald was sixteen and Rosina four years older.
As if she had been cradle snatching, when in fact it had been Dugald who persuaded her to marry him.
“Stand beside me,” Dugald had begged her in a pain filled voice. “If we stand together they cannot split us, Rosina. Listen to me.”
She hadn’t even looked at him.
Instead of standing up to the laird and refusing to tear their union asunder, Rosina had agreed to everything her mother and the laird said. It was only at the end that she had looked at him.
“I shouldn’t have agreed,” she’d said, her mouth drawn down, that lush mouth he had kissed over and over.
He’d remembered the helpless sounds she made when he was inside her.
Dugald had known he was young, and she could never seem to see beyond that, but in his own mind he was a grown man.
He had lived a man’s life and taken on a man’s responsibilities, and the number of years since his birth hadn’t meant a thing.
“Rosina,” he had said, and it was a demand.
She had seemed to be struggling to breathe and her voice broke, but there was no mistaking her meaning. “Go. I never want to see you again!”
He wondered now whether she had wanted him to seek her out despite her rejection.
Had there been something he missed when he looked into her eyes?
Some clue? If there had, he had been too full of his own anguish to notice.
His heart had been breaking. He’d turned from her and walked away, and that had been the last time he saw her until he returned with Ewen to claim the castle and all within it.
Rosina must have been upset when she found that instead of being rid of him, she was bearing his child. She probably longed for him then ... or cursed him.
Dugald clenched his fists and ground his teeth.
He would have stayed by her side, but she had made it clear that whatever had been between them was over.
So when Ewen had come to his father and brothers, and told them what had happened when the laird found him and Elspit in her room ...
They had no choice but to go or face the laird’s wrath, and Dugald had been relieved.
He’d packed his few belongings and been out the door before the others.
Now he was beginning to wonder if he had been too hasty.
Rosina’s mother had not been a happy woman, and her dissatisfaction had spilled over onto her daughter.
Nothing was ever good enough for her. Rosina was never good enough for her.
And then to hand fast to Dugald Campbell, a boy without land or fortune, so far beneath what she considered was right and proper ...
Jeanette glared at him now, pulling Mary around behind her as if to shelter her from contamination.
Rosina had turned her back and was filling the chest with clothing, not even bothering to fold it.
They seemed to believe this was only a temporary measure, but Dugald was determined to keep them within the safety of the castle for as long as he could.
Mary peered around her grandmother’s shoulder at him.
Her eyes were his eyes and for a moment it was like looking deep into his own soul.
He felt a shift inside him. This was his daughter and he hadn’t seen Rosina swell with her, he hadn’t been there to share the joy and to comfort her during the travail of birth.
He had been in the Duke of Arran’s household, and if he was honest, then he had been enjoying himself because he could.
The Laird of Tighe, and Rosina herself, had seen to it that their hand fasting was dissolved, and he was single again, and he had made the most of it.
Although, and it was something he rarely admitted, there had always been an emptiness inside him. A piece of his heart that was missing.
“Lord Ewen’s squire says you are the favourite of the Duke of Arran,” Mary’s voice brought him back to the room. “Of all the Campbell brothers he likes you best.”
Dugald smirked. “He does like me best.”
His daughter cocked her head to one side. She had a manner about her, as if she was far older than her years. Rosina had a similar manner, but Mary also had an air of assurance that Dugald suspected came from him.
“Why does he like you best?” she said
“Because I make him laugh.”
Mary thought about that and then nodded. “You have a nice smile,” she offered.
Her grandmother muttered something in a low voice and Rosina frowned. Suddenly Dugald had had enough. He pointed his finger at Rosina and said, “Come with me.”
She startled and stared, and he wondered if she’d refuse. He was hardly likely to drag her out of the room in front of their daughter, but perhaps she didn’t know that. Over the years her image of him might have darkened.
Rosina glanced at the other two, and said, “Wait here. I won’t be long.”
“Daughter—” her mother began but Rosina walked past her, brushing by Dugald as she did so.
He turned and followed.
She went down the stairs so quickly that he caught only a swirl of her blue skirt as she turned the corner. By the time he reached the bottom and was in the great hall, she was striding toward the door that led into the castle yard.
Outside there were Campbell men everywhere engaged in the usual activity that followed the claiming of a castle. In this case it didn’t look like the losers were bearing any grudges. They seemed very happy with the change of regime.
Rosina had reached the gate, which was open and guarded by one of Ewen’s men, and stopped. She turned to face him, her arms folded, and her mouth was turned down again. Bitterness, unhappiness, anger ... it was as if all those emotions circled around her like dark clouds.
“Why have you bullied me into returning to the castle?” she demanded. “You must know it is not where I want to be.”
“Even if it keeps you safe?” he growled.
Her grey eyes narrowed. “Even then.”
“And what of our daughter? Do you not want her to be safe? And your mother? Surely,” and he stepped closer until she had to tilt her head to continue to meet his eyes, “their lives matter to you?”
She scoffed. “No reivers would dare take on the Campbell brothers.”
“You are wrong.” He waited while she glared at him, but she did not respond.
“The Laird of Tighe had many enemies, it is true, but some of those enemies preferred a man they could manipulate and steal from, rather than one like my brother who is trustworthy and decent. If they can make trouble then they will. You being out here,” he waved his hand, “is an invitation to such men.”
Rosina stared up at him a moment more, and then turned away. “I don’t have time to argue with you,” she informed him. “Thanks to you I have more of our belongings to bring to the castle.”
He followed her, his long strides soon catching her up as they reached the cottage. He still thought it more of a hovel, and eyed it with distaste as Rosina unbarred the door and went inside. Dugald peered in after her.
The place was gloomy but surprisingly clean. He should not have been surprised but he had been in many such places and they were not always pleasant. Men like Tighe did not care if his people were poor and starving, as long as he could eat six courses every night and lie in a soft bed.
Rosina was gathering up more of her family’s belongings, using a shawl as a bag, twisting it shut at the top.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
The next moment she had dumped the makeshift bag into his arms, and turned back for more. Dugald strolled to a cupboard and examined the shelving above it. There wasn’t a great deal but he thought perhaps some of the utensils had come from Rosina’s former home.
“Is this Mary’s?” he asked, noting a wooden toy doll that had seen better days.
Rosina glanced at it. “Yes. When she was younger. She is still fond of it so I have kept it.”
“I wish I had known her then.”
She stared at him and then showed him her back. He saw her hands pause over some apples and a loaf of bread.
“Do you really make the duke laugh?”
Her question wasn’t what he was expecting. She sounded curious and the anger had gone.
“When he is inclined to,” he answered her. “He is a busy man with many schemes to keep watch over.”
“Will you return to him when Ewen no longer needs you?”
She still had her back to him but he saw the stiffening of her shoulders, as if she held herself in check, awaiting disappointment.
“Rosina,” he said quietly. He set down the bundle in his arms and stepped up behind her, so close that his body brushed hers, his chest to her shoulders and his thighs to her bottom.
“It is a fair enough question,” she said coldly.
He bent his head so that his breath stirred the hair coiled at her neck. He thought she shivered. “It is a fair enough question,” he said, “and I would answer it if I knew the answer. For now I will stay here, with Ewen, and be of help to him.”
“And then?”
He ghosted his lips against her skin and this time she did shiver. “Would it matter to you if I left again? Last time—”
“You said you wanted to know your daughter. I am merely trying to discover if you were telling me the truth or just making conversation.”
“I am telling you the truth.”
She faced him, eyes searching his, and suddenly he was tired of this distance between them.
Why could they not talk like ordinary people?
Yes, there were unpleasant memories, and he still felt some of that bitter pain, but it was a long time ago and they were mature enough to be able to have a simple conversation.
Dugald had dealt with foreign diplomats and prickly nobles in the duke’s court, and none of them had been as frustrating as Rosina.
“I want to look after your welfare; yours and my daughter’s. I want to see you safe. Is that so terrible? I am no longer a penniless nobody. I am a man with means and I want to use them for your benefit.”
“Why?”
“Because that is my wish.”
She shot him a sceptical look. “Very well, Dugald. We accept your kindness ... for now.”
Dugald followed her back to the castle, his arms full, and wondered why he did not feel as if he had won their argument.