She tried to forget. Oh, she made a valiant effort to force him out of her mind by conjuring up the last image that she had of him, when he’d broken her heart and then simply walked away. But nothing could erase the haunting memories of love and passion before the betrayal.
She still loved the man she thought he was—even if that man had never really existed.
The shock waned, but not the pain. It would be a constant reminder of her mistake.
“What are you doing cloistered up here again, dearest?” Rosalind’s chirpy voice startled her from her reverie.
Meg turned, meeting the worried gaze of her mother. “Enjoying the view. I love this part of the old tower. It’s so peaceful up here, watching thebirlinnscross the kyle.”
“Tallying the daily profits, are you?”
Meg smiled. For hundreds of years, since her enterprising ancestor “Saucy Mary” strung a heavy chain across the kyle, the Mackinnons had collected tolls for boats passing through the narrow strait that separated Skye from the mainland. Tallying profits was what she should be doing, would be doing, if she could concentrate on anything other than…
She shook her head, clearing her mind. “No, not today.”
“With Michaelmas approaching, I expected you to be huddled with your father somewhere.” Rosalind approached the chair where Meg was seated. Her dainty fingers cupped Meg’s chin, tilting her face gently. Soulful green eyes gazed at her with sadness. “What’s wrong, love? You have not been acting yourself ever since we returned from court. I never thought I’d complain of such things, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you read a book, balance a ledger, mutter about efficiencies or words that I’ve never heard before.”
Her heart squeezed, thinking of Alex. “Perhaps I’ve been a bit more quiet than usual, but I’ve had much to consider.” She tried to force a bright smile to her features. “In fact, I was just on my way to see Father. I need to speak with him about Jamie.”
“Have you made a decision, then?” Rosalind asked warily.
Was there ever really a decision to be made? What choice did she really have? Nothing had changed since returning home: Either she accepted Jamie’s proposal or she failed in her duty to her clan. Choice was illusory. She pushed aside the guilt, knowing she did not love him. Elizabeth was right: Jamie deserved to be loved, and Meg would do everything in her power to love him.
“I’ll marry Jamie, of course.”
Rosalind’s face fell, and a mix of disappointment and distress pinched her delicate features. “Oh dear, dear,” she muttered. “I’d so hoped…I’d thought perhaps Laird MacLeod—”
Meg stiffened.
Rosalind frowned, noticing Meg’s reaction. “Just because I’ve not asked you what happened between you and Alex MacLeod does not mean that I don’t realize that something did.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Margaret Mackinnon!” Rosalind stomped her tiny foot in what Meg realized was supposed to be emphasis. “Don’t pretend ignorance with me. Why, we left court in such a hurry, I barely had time to change into my traveling clothes. And poor, dear Alys has never had to pack so quickly.” She threw up her hands. “Wrinkled silks, crushed velvets, torn lace…anything could have happened.”
“We were fortunate, indeed, to escape unscathed.”
Rosalind’s mouth twitched, but she otherwise ignored Meg’s playful retort. “And if such haste was not bad enough, you barely spoke five words the entire trip home and your eyes were red and puffy for days. Really, dear, you should have let me put a cool posset over them to prevent those horrid black circles.”
“As I explained, I felt ill and wanted to return home.”
“Ill!” Rosalind made a sound of disbelief and rested her hands on her slim hips. “I may not be as learned as you and your father, but I do have the sense God gave me.”
Meg’s eyes widened with surprise. Had her mother just been derisive? Rosalind must truly be annoyed; she didn’t have a derisive bone in her body.
“Please, Mother. There really is no need to discuss this further. There was, and is, nothing of import between Alex MacLeod and myself.”
Meg whipped around to stare at her mother, who had just issued a most indelicate, unladylike snort. When she recovered from this latest shock, she continued, emphasizing the point: “I’m going to marry Jamie Campbell.”
Rosalind shook her head. “But it was obvious to anyone who looked, Alex cares for you so much. Your father’s health is much improved, surely you can wait—”
“It’s over, Mother,” Meg interrupted sharply.
Rosalind shot her a hard look in return, pursing her lips with obvious displeasure. “I’ve told your father…He’s delayed long enough. He has something to tell you that might change your mind.”
Curious as to what her mother meant, Meg lost no time and hurried down the stairs to find her father.
It didn’t take long. The Mackinnon chief sat hunched over a stack of ledgers in the second-floor library of the old tower, two stories below the room she had occupied only moments before, massaging his thinning pate with his wrinkled fingers.
