Bryce shook his head and rolled his eyes in reply.
‘I see. I am to be met with silence, as usual, son. But pray, tell me why you don’t want her. I would know the reason you reject a perfectly suitable bride.’
‘I do not want Clara because I would only break her.’
‘What?’
‘That lass is not strong enough to tolerate me. You want me to sire an heir on a woman who jumps at her own shadow. If polite conversation discomforts her, our wedding night would probably scare her half to death. And God knows what the sight of my cock would do.’
‘Well, you are not thinking of mistreating her, are you? And why is there always something wrong with them? They are too skinny or plump, dull, empty-headed, too bold or too quiet. You seek perfection when you are anything but perfect, son. Get down off your high horse, you fool, and settle for a good woman who will be a faithful wife, and mother to your bairns. She need not be the love of your life.’
‘I don’t want that kind of woman. I want a woman with a fire in her belly and who sets one in mine.’
‘Well, for God's sake, go and find one then. Instead, you play with whores and faithless wives so that they cannot trap you. Am I wrong?’
‘I have no wish to be wed, to shackle myself to another forever. And even if I did, I would seek a real marriage, not a cold, hard contract. You had more than that with my mother, did you not?’
‘Do not speak of her.’
‘You wed for love, Father. Deny it. Go on.’
‘Aye, it is true, I wed your mother for love, and I moved heaven and earth to do it, because I could not do without her. And I have waited patiently for you to do the same. Yet you waste your youth on women who are not her equal in any way. I see a series of worthless slatterns with no virtue or loyalty or women already spoken for, aye, so they cannot demand anything from you as permanent as wedlock. And you shame them and yourself with your goings-on, and need I mention that ruinous duel we only just covered up.’
‘Millicent was shackled to a hateful, old wretch of a husband.’
‘Who she willingly wed for riches, and you cuckolded and shamed him, with dreadful results.’
‘And I feel it, Father, every day, so must you always rub my nose in my disgrace?’
‘Aye, for I hope it will change your ways and you will settle and marry. It is your duty to your clan and to me.’
‘This is my life we are talking about,’ bellowed Bryce. ‘I do my duty by my clan, patrolling our lands and seeing to our tenants. I fill my days with toil and gainful occupation. I am not given to idleness, nor am I a drunkard or a villain.’
His father was not listening. ‘Your friend Callum has settled down with a fine woman and does not shirk what is expected of him.’
‘Callum has always craved companionship, and so he’s always been suited to wedlock.’
‘Yet you waste your life on debauchery.’
‘Aye, which I enjoy immensely. If I take poor Clara McMullan, I will never be able to love her, and she will know it. The lass will be miserable, and you may not think I have much honour, but I have enough not to do that to someone.’
‘Honour?’ scoffed Jasper. ‘That has long eluded you, son. I will take drastic action if you defy me, Bryce. I told you to wed by year’s end or lose your inheritance, and I will no longer be defied. We are but a month from the year’s end, so your time is up. Fergal is a dear friend of mine, and I have promised him this match.’
Bryce pulled his horse up, shouting over the rising wind. ‘Tell me, you haven’t.’
‘I have arranged for you to wed Clara McMullan and be done with this business.’
‘Damned if I will.’
‘You will be damned if you don’t.’
‘Then damned it is, Father,’ growled Bryce, kicking his horse hard in the flanks and galloping away, battling rage so strong, it almost took his breath away.
Jasper Cullan’s parting words were almost swallowed by the snowstorm. ‘Come back with a worthy bride at your side or not at all, Bryce. I mean it this time.’
Chapter Three
Bryce tethered his horse in the lee of a tavern, which provided a welcome haven from the storm. It was a long ride from Inverness to the small town of Balloch. By now, his father would have ridden through the shelter of the woods and be quaffing a dram of whisky before the hearth at Penhallion, decrying his son’s shortcomings. Bryce had wanted to keep riding forever to escape his father’s nagging. Only the thought of rolling in the warm bed of Meg, his current paramour, had turned his mind from boiling frustration to more joyful pursuits.
