“Our father died a few years later.” James cleared his throat. “Francis tried like hell to be a father to all of us, but there were too many of us. The wee ones needed his attention most.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.”
“Just when you needed a father the most.”
James’s heart clenched. She was right. He’d needed his father’s guidance. Desperately. He’d never realized until that moment how angry he’d been at Alex MacKintosh for giving up on life. Giving up on them.
Francis had done the best he could, but hovering between youth and manhood, James had needed more than his brother was able to give. “I was a belligerent and arrogant lad.”
“You were grieving.”
“Aye, and the gulf between us only grew wider. The wee ones came first. I understood that, but it was a bad time to be left to my own devices. I got into trouble, too much really. I picked fights with them…” A chuckle bubbled up his throat and James shrugged. “I still do occasionally. I suspect it was nothing more than an attempt to get some attention. I spent my whole life trying to impress them, to be one of them. But I never was. I was an outsider in my own family with nothing to make myself my own man. Nothing to keep my attention besides women and horses. I thought to join the military like Vin and Richard, but there were no wars to fight. I might have been a scholar but for the monotony of it. I might have been a preacher but for…”
“The celibacy of it all?” Prim finished when he trailed off.
James grinned down at her. “Are you not glad I decided against it?”
She beamed up at him, her hyacinth eyes shining. “I am.”
He might have kissed her then. Kissed her into oblivion and spared them both more of this maudlin nonsense. But James’s lips brushed her forehead instead, rousing him with a jolt of longing and joy incongruous with such a simple gesture.
“Sweet bonny lass, will you…come back to bed with me?” he finished, nearly saying something he might regret.
Fire sparked in her gaze, but Prim shook her head, though she hugged his arm tighter. “You still haven’t gotten to the point.” She gestured back to the album.
“What else is there to say?” he argued, looking at a picture of a group of his siblings at St. Andrews Old Course.
He remembered being there one time as a child. MacKintosh family would often spend the summer there with family friends. The MacKenzies in particular. Francis, Vin, and Richard would always match up with Jace MacKenzie for a foursome, leaving him to play the round with his father and Jace’s father. Sometimes Jace’s younger sister, Moira, would join them. He remembered one time in particular. Moira had wanted to join the older boys as badly as he had, though she’d followed them relentlessly.
“Go away, Moira!” Jace had snapped at her. “We’ve already got our foursome.” He pointed out Vin, Francis, Richard, and himself. “You’ll play with Papa, Glenrothes, and Jamie and leave us alone.”
It had been just before his mother died. James was not yet eight but already separate from the others. Still, the dismissal had been devastating. Moira had been pushed aside more physically, but he’d still borne the blow. All the more reason for him to learn to stand on his own.
“I was nothing there. I’d never done anything extraordinary. My life wasn’t as scandalous as Francis’s, nor did I suffer as Vin and Richard. Here I’ve built a life. I’ve a business and I’m good at it. I have respect and admiration. You crave the same thing. Surely, you can appreciate wanting that.”
“I do.” She nodded but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I can also see it means nothing to you coming from these people.”
“Nonsense. I adore Mrs. Preston.”
“She might be the only thing here you care for.”
How adamant she was. How wrong.
She went on, “You want the same respect you’ve gained here from your family. That I understand, better than most. You should go back home.”
“I shouldn’t have to prove myself worthy,” he countered.
“You misunderstand me,” she said. “I don’t think you should go back to win their approval. I think if you did, you’d find you already have it. I’d wager they all adore you just as you are.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because it’s so easy to do.”
James’s heart leapt at the admission. Prim was perched beside him on the foot of his bed, in his robe with her hair down and flowing in surprising curls around her face. It was nothing like he’d pictured but perfect anyway.
* * *
