‘Just don’t.’
Bryce folded Maren against his chest, but she saw him narrow his eyes at the shoreline of Inverness appearing out of the river mist up ahead. He was not at peace with her past. Soon, they would be with others who would judge and pry, like Jasper, Callum, and Bryce’s high-born friends. She wanted to remain just the two of them. It was all so simple when they were alone. Then, nothing and no one else mattered.
For her part, she was uneasy. Would her father do as she bid, and would he succeed? He was as likely to shrug off her request and let Drayton wreak havoc as he was to come to the aid of his only child. She could only pray that the thought of facing his maker would compel him to make amends for his past cruelties and that his wounded pride at being bested by Drayton would make him strike. But going to see him had opened a door she could not close.
She had risked their safety and exposed her shameful past to Bryce for him to despise, and for what? To plead with a selfish, dying old man for help. Her trip to Durness had only ended in disappointment and with no certainty of its outcome. There was no other way to see it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They took a cart ride from Inverness with a farmer, eager to take the coins Bryce offered, and reached Penhallion as dusk was sending soft shadows up its walls. The castle shone like a golden beacon amidst the high glens and rolling hills. Bryce had never been so grateful for its staunch walls and certainty.
A shudder ran down his spine when he thought of Durness and Maren’s father. It was as if Colm McEwen’s cold villainy had crawled into his soul and made a home there. How could Maren be so passionate, brave and magnificent yet have that worm’s slimy blood tainting her veins. It mattered little to Bryce if she had a shady past, for so did he. And he had not been completely honest with her, just as there was still some part of Maren that she held back from him. Pity at her dreadful upbringing choked his throat whenever he tried to talk to her, so he remained silent on the journey. So Maren’s past and her family stood between them now, like a barred door.
Maren’s hand shook slightly as Bryce grasped it to help her down from the cart. The lass was nervous at seeing his father again. ‘Do not fret, Maren,’ he said. ‘My father may snarl and snap, but he likes you. I can tell by the way he tries to flirt.’
‘That is a shocking thing to say. Flirt, indeed. And will you tell him everything, Bryce?’
‘Not just yet. First, we must account for our whereabouts these last days as best we can. Say I did something to outrage you. Say we quarrelled and went off to cool our tempers. That should deter my father from asking questions.’
Maren nodded her agreement, which surprised Bryce as she usually went her own way and would not be told. She had been uncommonly subservient all the way home as if she meant to atone for her past, and he did not enjoy it one bit. He wanted the old, fiery lass back. Eager to get her inside and back in his bed, where he hoped to recover their closeness, Bryce grabbed Maren’s hand and headed to the great hall.
They burst in, Bryce declaring, ‘We are back, Father, and you can….’
His words died in his throat, for before the hearth stood his father and Clara McMullan. Her hand was clasped in his father’s, their faces close together as if sharing some great secret. For a moment, confusion took him, and then it was replaced by anger. Could his damned father not relinquish the quest to get him married off to Clara. It was not to be borne.
‘I am gone for days, and yet still you try to foist….’
‘No, Bryce.’ Maren’s hand came to rest on his forearm. He glanced at her and then at the shocked couple before the hearth. His father’s mouth was set in a grim line, Clara’s face pale, her hand coming to her mouth. Then it dawned on Bryce. They looked sheepish, the pair of them. He had caught them at something.
‘By God, Father. What are you about here with Clara?’ he cried.
A sharp elbow connected with his ribs. ‘Hush, Bryce. Leave them be,’ hissed Maren.
His father looked down at Clara and then met Bryce’s eyes. ‘Son, I am so glad you are back to hear our good news?’
‘What good news?’ said Bryce, not really wanting to ask.
‘Clara has accepted my proposal and agreed to become my wife.’
‘The hell she will,’ shouted Bryce, and then everything went south.
***
Much shouting later, Bryce stood before the hearth nursing a large whisky and a burning sense of grievance. ‘This is a fine situation to come home to.’
‘I cannot believe you insulted Clara like that,’ countered Jasper.
‘The words just slipped out. Maren will soothe her ruffled feathers.’
Jasper frowned as if he doubted that very much.
‘Father, have you taken leave of your senses, offering for a lass half your age and one that, if I recall correctly, you have been throwing at my head for weeks as a potential bride?’
‘Aye, well, neither of us expected to develop a fondness for each other.’
‘A fondness?’
‘Aye, a fondness. Do not disparage our affection as if it were nothing.’ Jasper Cullan sighed as if mining a deep well of patience. ‘I got to know Clara whilst matchmaking on your behalf, and I got to like her. If you bothered to get to know her, you would find that the lass is excellent company, and she is most attentive and caring to me. I look forward to seeing the lass, and we have had stimulating conversations.’
