“We weren’t past it then. We may not be past it even now.” Fitz hadn’t turned out to be the villain Logan had dreaded he’d be, but that didn’t mean Logan trusted him. Brother or not, Logan resented Fitz as much as he would any Englishman who owned his land.
Logan wasn’t sure he’d ever get past that.
But as the months had passed, Logan found that under his new brother’s haughty exterior, Fitz had a sincere wish to know his family. He wanted to learn about the clan, to understand the people. He’d gone from farm to farm with Logan, and when the people talked, he’d listened to them.
Then something miraculous had happened—something Logan hadn’t anticipated.
He’d never even dared hope Fitz would fall in love with a Scottish lass, but from the moment Fitz first laid eyes onEmilia Ferguson, she’d taken his heart into her hands. There was only one thing standing between them.
Fitz’s betrothed, Lady Juliana Bernard. She was a barrier, an obstacle to a happy ending not just for Fitz and Emilia, but also for Clan Kinross.
Logan saw his chance, and he took it. He began intercepting the letters between Lady Juliana and Fitz in hopes of putting an end to their betrothal.
“Should I assume, Logan, that you took the letters for my sake, so I could marry the lady I loved? How brotherly of you.” Fitz’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
“No. I did it to protect the clan. It’s better for us if you marry a Scot rather than an Englishwoman.”
EspeciallythisEnglishwoman.
If Fitz married Emilia and they made their home in Scotland…well, even a cold-blooded English duke would think twice before tossing his wife’s clan and family off his land. It was reason enough for Logan to want Emilia Ferguson to become the Duchess of Blackmore.
As for Lady Juliana…
Logan glanced at her. She wasn’t at all what he’d expected, yet she remained, despite the spirit and courage she’d shown, the daughter of the Marquess of Graystone.
The marquess was no friend to the Scots. No, he was a friend to the Countess of Sutherland and her husband, theMarquess of Stafford, the two English aristocrats responsible for the Strathnaver Clearances. He was a friend to the thousands of English pounds he’d collected the following year, when he cleared his own lands to make way for the sheep herders who were better able to meet his exorbitant rents.
Logan could never forget the destruction he’d seen that day in Rosal Township. The taste of the thick black smoke in his mouth, the heat of the flames searing his eyes as one roof after another was set ablaze. The violence and confusion of it, the despair on the people’s face as they watched their homes burned to the ground.
The Countess of Sutherland had sent Patrick Sellar to drive the people off her land, and he’d done a fine job of it. Sellar had brought Clan MacKay to their knees. Families had been torn apart that day, and then again only a year later, when the Marquess of Graystone cleared his land inGlengarry, and sent Clan MacDonnell scattering to the winds.
If Fitz married Lady Juliana, he’d go back to England with her. Once he was there, it would be the easiest thing in the world for him to forget what he owed to Clan Kinross. How long would it be before Lord Graystone convinced Fitz he could turn a far tidier profit by leasing Kinross land to sheep farmers? How long before Fitz decided to evict his own tenants, just as Graystone had done?
Logan wouldn’t let that happen to his people, to his land. He’d been leading Clan Kinross since his father’s death five years ago, before any of them had ever heard of the Duke of Blackmore. Logan wasn’t the laird, but that didn’t make him any less responsible for his clan. It made him more so, because he’d seen for himself how quickly a life could be reduced to ashes if a heartless man thought he could turn a profit by it.
“Well, then. It seems there’s nothing more to be said. I wish to return to Inverness first thing tomorrow morning.” Lady Juliana turned dull eyes to Fitz. “You’ll take me, won’t you?”
“So soon? No, Lina. You’ve only just arrived, and anyone can see you’re exhausted from your journey. Next week, perhaps, or the week after.”
“No, Fitz. I can’t linger here for weeks. I haven’t any time to lose. I’ve Grace to consider, and my father. I must return to London at once, and see what can be done to…”
To find another man to marry me.
The words hung in the air, unspoken, but there was no need for her to say them aloud. Each of them finished the thought in their heads.
She’d be forced to take whoever offered, and would end up married to a rogue, a fortune hunter, a gamester. She’d be wasted on some adventurer who’d steal every penny from her.
Fitz was already shaking his head. “No. I won’t allow that. We’ll think of something else.”
Lady Juliana sighed. “What? It’s too late, Fitzwilliam. You’re betrothed to another lady.”
Fitz didn’t answer. He leaned an arm against the mantel and rested his head on it. He remained in this attitude for some time without speaking. When he shifted at last to face them, the look of misery on his face made Logan tense with foreboding.
He’s going to jilt Emilia…
Logan knew it before Fitz could utter a syllable, but when Fitz did speak, his words slammed into Logan like a blow.
“I’m betrothed, Lina. Not married.”
