Chapter 15
Daphne’s blood thundered in her ears, so intensely that she couldn’t hear anything else. Not her own ragged breathing, not the lapping of the water at the shore, not his breathing, not the rustling of the trees.
They stayed like that for a minute, their arms wound around each other, and then Hunter pulled back.
Daphne felt off-kilter for a minute, like she was going to collapse backward, but managed to save herself, clutching at his shoulders. His strong arm around her back pulled her upright, and with his free hand, he tugged the hem of her skirt down over her knees.
The aftershocks of pleasure still rippled through her. Despite it all, she gulped and closed her eyes, trying to think straight.
“We shouldnae have done that,” she whispered.
“And why nae?” he breathed, tilting up her chin until she was forced to open her eyes and look at him. “I fucking missed ye, lass. I havenae thought of much else in the past five years.”
Heat knotted in her chest once again, making her gasp.
“But yer dreams… In the bad ones, where I escape, something happens to keep us apart. Daenae ye think that’s a sign?”
He laughed aloud, the noise bouncing off the water. “I didnae think that ye were a superstitious woman, Daphne.”
“I’m nae. I’m just… just practical.”
She had to get away. With an effort, she rose to her feet and stumbled a few steps away. Her wet hem dragged on the ground, and the pebbles dug into her bare feet. Where were her boots?
Hunter made no effort to grab at her again and pull her down. He just stayed where he was, watching her with a wry smile.
“I think ye agree to this, but we’d better wed,” he said calmly. “I’ll arrange it tomorrow, and then Willow will be acknowledged as mine. The clans daenae care much about bastards, as long as there’s a wedding at some point.”
Daphne spun around to face him, stumbling a little on the slippery rocks. “Nay, I cannae. We cannae!”
“Why nae? Ye have been reading too many English novels, lass. I’ve been thinking about ye for years, and I flatter meself that ye have been equally preoccupied. Marriage is the obvious solution.”
She let out a long sigh and pushed her hands through her hair, which hung loose and tangled around her shoulders. Her fingers caught a knot about halfway down, which made her scalp sting, so she gave up.
She forced herself to meet his gaze squarely. “I ken about yer vow, Hunter.”
He blinked, the smile dropping from his lips. “What? Who told ye? How did ye—” He broke off, shaking his head. “No point in asking. It could have been anyone.”
Daphne said nothing. She didn’t want to get Elspeth in trouble. Helena had certainly not been happy that the maid told her about it, and now Hunter seemed upset that she knew.
He rose abruptly to his feet and began to pace up and down, shale crunching beneath his boots.
“The vow, the bloody vow,” he muttered heavily. “I’ve already broken it, already sired a child.”
“So ye see, we cannae wed,” Daphne reasoned, twisting her fingers together. “And ye cannae claim Willow as yer heir. Els—um, I was told that it would be bad for ye if ye broke yer vow.”
“Aye, but those are me consequences, nae yers,” he shot back grimly. “Or it will be my punishment.”
She rolled her eyes. “If I marry ye, they’ll be mine.”
He acknowledged that with a grunt and a nod of his head. She could almost see the cogs turning in his mind.
She almost felt sorry for him. It was a solution he was after, hoping to find some answer to this problem.
But there was no solution that allowed him to break his vow.
As he had rightly pointed out, it was already broken the moment Willow was born, and now all that remained was for people to find out.
I wish there was a way.
She jolted uneasily at that thought, because it would do nobody any good.
There wasn’t a way. And even if there was…
well, best not to think about what her answer would be if she could marry him, because that would only upset her further.
No sense in torturing herself with something she couldn’t have.
Abruptly, he stopped pacing and turned to face her.
“We’ll have to wed,” he insisted. “Only a dishonorable man gets a woman with child and doesnae help her. The only way to fix that is by marrying her. If I was married already, that would be a different matter, but I’m nae.”
She felt a sting of insult. “I’m glad that yer duty is what motivates ye.”
He didn’t seem to notice. He only took a step toward her, his keen eyes fastened on her face. “We’ll announce it tomorrow.”
“I am telling ye, Hunter, nay. Yer vow—”
“It’s me bloody vow. It’s nobody’s trouble but mine.”
“That’s nae true.” She took a step toward him, closing the space between them.
“I ken what comes after a laird is deposed, for whatever reason. War. If yer people turn against ye for breaking a vow, they willnae let ye choose an heir. There’ll be carnage.
Bloodshed. The clan will be torn apart. Even if it rights itself, it’ll take a while, maybe even years, and lochs full of blood.
So, this isnae just yer concern. It’s mine, and Willow’s, and yer mother's, and everybody else’s who is a part of this clan. ”
“Daphne…”
“I ken that ye want to help me. I ken that ye want to help Willow. I’ll nae stop ye from seeing yer daughter. I’ll never do that. But I can take care of meself, Hunter. I’ve done it for five years now.”
He breathed out heavily through his nose. “I’ll protect ye from whatever threat comes.”
“And are ye willing to lose yer position as Laird?”
He chuckled. “What, for ye and me daughter?”
She reddened. “I am nae worth tearing apart yer life.”
“Is Willow nae worth it?”
“What if ye marry me and announce her as yer heir, and the clansfolk hate her?”
He laughed aloud. “Hate wee Willow? They’ll adore her like we do. It’s decided, lass. We’ll marry.”
She saw red. Her vision actually shivered with fury, and she narrowed her eyes at him, backing away.
“I daenae recall agreeing to anything. And I daenae think ye can just drag me up the aisle to the altar. This isnae going to work, Hunter. Ye ken it.”
“I need ye to trust me. I can make it work.”
She stared at him for a long moment. He stared back, his face blank and unreadable. She couldn’t work out what he was thinking, as not so much as a hint of emotion crossed his face.
Well, maybe he didn’t really feel anything.
“Why did ye make the vow?” she asked.
His shoulders stiffened. “What have ye heard?”
“I want to hear it from ye.”
“Tell me what ye were told. Wait, I daenae think ye were told anything. Folks who ken daenae tend to talk about it.”
“So there was a reason,” she whispered.
He held out his hands. “Of course there was a reason. No laird makes a vow like that on a whim.”
“Well, tell me what it was.”
He shook his head tightly, turning his back. “It’s best that ye daenae ken.”
She was conscious of a pinprick of annoyance, an itch deep inside.
Daphne had always been the curious one growing up.
Her sister, Ceana, was content to let things lie.
If she wanted to find something out, she’d discover it.
If not, she just shrugged her shoulders and moved on.
It didn’t seem to bother her not to know something.
The desire to know didn’t have her questioning the servants and sifting through book after book.
It would have been nice to be like that.
Now, when it was clear that Hunter was keeping a secret from her, she felt the familiar urge to figure it out. To know.
“Well, ye cannae say something like that and expect me to drop the matter,” she said tightly.
Hunter sighed. “Enough, lass.”
“Ye daenae get to tell me enough.”
He narrowed his eyes and took a step forward, seizing her wrist. His grip wasn’t tight, but she tried to tug herself free to no avail.
“Let go of me.”
“I need ye to let this lie, lass.”
“Then tell me what happened. Why did ye vow nae to marry? I heard that ye vowed nae to have another child. Did they already ken about Willow? Nay, they couldnae have…”
A bleak look slowly crept into Hunter’s eyes.
For a moment, Daphne found herself overwhelmed by the depth of his misery. It only lasted for a second before he released her and took several steps back, which put him safely beyond the lanternlight’s weak reach.
“I willnae tell ye,” he said shortly. “And I daenae believe that anyone in the keep will tell ye either, nay matter how hard ye try to figure it out. Some stories should be forgotten.”
She held his gaze, waiting for the inevitable moment when he broke down and told her.
It didn’t come.
Swallowing hard, she nodded and leaned forward to snatch up the lantern in one hand and her boots in the other.
“Very well,” she said coldly. “Ye ask me to trust ye, but ye have made it very clear that ye daenae trust me. I daenae think there’s anything more we can talk about.”
She stomped past him, heading for the path that would lead back to the keep.
Hunter didn’t follow. She was sure that she would hear him hurry after her, but the crunch of shale didn’t come.
So that’s it, then. There’ll nae be a marriage.
Well, I cannae possibly be upset about that. I always kent there wouldnae be one.
Minutes ticked by, and it became very obvious that Daphne wasn’t coming down for breakfast. He should have expected that, really, but the sight of her empty chair still grated on him anyway.
When he’d returned to the keep, past the blank-faced sentry, there had been no sign of her. If the sentry had noticed them returning within minutes of each other, he was wise enough to stay quiet and pretend not to have noticed.
He had thought about going to her room. He knew where she was staying. He could have knocked on her door, seen if she would let him in.
He had decided against that almost immediately. Aside from the fact that it wasn’t fair to follow her to her door, it would wake Willow, and that would be a whole other problem.
Speaking of which, the little girl wasn’t at the breakfast table, either.
The large table remained more or less empty. At this hour, the servants were all going about their work, and the councilmen were, too.
Hunter wasn’t used to being here at this time, either. Usually, he’d be in his study.
The truth was that he was here because of Daphne. Daphne and Willow, the woman he hoped to make his wife and the girl who was his daughter.
And they were not here.
His mother and Lady Pilbury were here, of course. They sat side by side opposite him, talking and laughing about some old story of times gone by.
He cleared his throat, leaning forward. Before he could open his mouth, his mother spoke up.
“So, for the cèilidh, Hunter, we planned to send for that fiddler fellow and his wife who live up in the hills. He plays the fiddle, and she plays the bagpipes, and between them they’ll make fine music for us.
He’ll want to be paid—he doesnae play for free—but I think it would be worth it.
We’ll need a few musicians and a few good songs lined up.
I think that would be a good idea. What do ye think? ”
Hunter was about to respond before somebody else interrupted.
“Oh, what a fine idea!” Lady Pilbury chirped. “I really cannot wait to see a proper Highland cèilidh. You will have to tell me how to behave, Helena dear.”
“Behave? Woman, ye behave as ye like. This is nay fine English soirée. We’re here to have fun.”
Lady Pilbury chuckled, pulling a bowl of porridge toward herself. “Well, I think it will be a fine thing. I do hope I won’t be in the way. Do you mind if I have a little more of this porridge? It’s very fine and creamy, and I am surprised at my appetite.”
“That’s the good, clean air for ye.” Helena smiled. “The city smog cannae have done ye any good.”
“Quite, that’s why I gave up visiting London. I went there one year with Daphne, but it was quite impractical for Willow, who was of course a baby at the time. We decided not to go back. Bath is pleasant, occasionally, but it is more fashionable than it was, so the crowds…”
Hunter closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He had no objection to the women chattering about whatever they pleased, but he’d woken with a thrumming headache, and their talk was not making it better. He would have to wait for a gap in the conversation, if one came at all.
“Edith, where’s Daphne this morning? And wee Willow? Nae sick, I hope?” his mother suddenly asked.
“Oh, nothing like that,” Lady Pilbury assured her.
“Daphne overslept, and was in such a state! She never gets the chance to sleep late, and I had no intention of waking her. Elspeth said that she could take breakfast in their room, she and Willow. I believe they’re going to the library this morning.
I… I hope that’s all right with you, Lord MacCrimmon?
” she added, glancing at Hunter. “That is, Laird MacCrimmon.”
Hunter gave her a wry smile. “Thank ye kindly, me lady. And of course, Daphne and Willow can have free run of the library. Everybody in the keep can use it.”
“She’s probably reading stories to the little one,” Helena remarked innocently. “That wee bairn loves her mother, that’s for sure. Ye should go join her, Hunter. Willow likes ye a great deal, does she nae?”
Subtle.
He lifted an eyebrow, pointedly not reacting to the quick, knowing looks the older ladies shot him.
He wondered what they would say if he told them what happened last night by the loch. Not all of it, of course. Most of the interaction ought never to be relayed. It was private, between him and Daphne. But he could talk about his plan to marry.
His mother would be happy; he was sure of that. She knew of the vow, and she knew what had happened to make him swear it. Still, she’d rather see him married and an oath-breaker than a single, honest man.
Nae that I’ve ever been an honest man.
Lady Pilbury, of course, wouldn’t understand why he might put the vow above marrying Daphne. It was clear how much she adored her, and Willow too.
The best thing for him to do would be not to react to their jibes and knowing looks. He should sit at the table as if he had all the time in the world, and act as if he wasn’t going to the library to find her.
Somehow he knew he wasn’t going to do that.
With a sigh, he rose to his feet.
Helena only smiled and said nothing, but Lady Pilbury’s face lit up.
“Oh, are you going to find Daphne? When you do, I would be greatly obliged if you’d remind her that her time is her own.
Helena and I are going to spend the day together, so Daphne doesn’t have to worry about looking after me.
I think Willow wants to explore, and dear Daphne is scarcely less eager!
I always hated to think of them being chained to my sickbed.
They ought to be off having fun, don’t you agree? ”
He smiled fondly at her. “Aye, I agree, me Lady. I’ll tell her.”