“We understand, Laird,” Rob said. Erik’s addition to the council and youngest of the three, though older than Erik by a decade, he could be counted on to promote Erik’s plans. Likely Acton would as well. Garrod was the only one Erik couldn’t trust,and he could do a lot of damage, especially to Fiona, once she arrived.
He fought to keep the regrets filling him off his face. Was he getting the clan off on the wrong foot for her, sowing resentment before she even arrived? Since the marriage had not been consummated, it could be annulled. He worried that she would have changed her mind about joining him, worried that she’d hate this place and him and his people. He needed her to soften his rough edges, and to give him sons. As long as he didn’t make it impossible for her, he believed she could win over the clan—if they just gave her time…and she gave him grace.
CHAPTER 6
Near sunset a week later, voices calling Fiona’s name from the bailey outside her window stole her attention from the book she was reading in her chamber. She hurried out into the great hall where Mary and Lia greeted her. “There’s abirlinnapproaching our beach,” they chorused, both wearing expectant expressions. “It must be him,” Mary said, at the same time Lia said, “Yer husband has come back for ye. Laird Ross!”
Fiona snorted at that, though her blood suddenly raced through her veins, making her light-headed. “I ken his name,” she said, glad to see that with time to think it over, Lia had accepted Fiona’s new status. “How close is it? Could it be someone else?”
“’Twill be here soon,” Lia added. “I dinna ken how long it takes, but it has to be soon if we can see it.”
Mary grinned at Fiona’s question. “No’ eager to see him, then? Hoping for a MacBean to rescue ye? I dinna think Da has told them yet about yer wedding.”
Fiona sank onto a nearby bench and leaned forward, elbows on knees. Was she? Her husband had treated her with respect and deference. He was a handsome man, and a laird. Still, all shehad to do was admit faking the virgin’s blood on the sheet and her marriage to Erik Ross could be annulled. She could marry the MacBean, a man she’d been betrothed to for most of her life, though she’d never met him. That fact seemed incredibly unfortunate at the moment.
Keep the man she had or risk joining with a man who’d never bothered to make himself known to her. It should be a simple decision. Why was she fretting now?
She’d spent the last two days unpacking, then repacking, deciding to stay at Rose, then readying herself to say goodbye to Rose forever. Debating with herself whether her wisest course would be to take a horse and ride back to Inverness like Hamish had done. Yet, she’d also waited with anticipation for Erik’s return, worrying that he would change his mind and not come for her. How embarrassing would that be? She didn’t want to find out. But hiding out in Inverness was out of the question. As Mary had told her, the Rose would find her. He would not tolerate the embarrassment of having the woman he’d forced into marriage flee to town to escape it, not after she displayed what he thought was her virgin’s blood on a sheet. And she could not do that to Rose, to her friends, or to their allies. But deep in the darkest part of the nights that she’d spent without her husband, she had feared that Erik might.
The news of the approachingbirlinngave her some comfort. So why was her belly suddenly churning? Perhaps because his arrival made the quandary she’d been wrestling with for the last week immediate, not something she could continue to toy with, leaning first one way and then another. Go with him and make the marriage real, or reveal her ruse, annul it, and stay at Rose. Marry the mysterious MacBean, or, ignoring Mary’s warning that Rose would find her, return to the house in Inverness that Arabella had left to her—assuming it still stood and hadn’t been taken over by squatters or burned to the ground.
Mary must have sensed her uncertainty by her posture, or the lack of eager anticipation on her face. She sank down next to her on the bench and waved Lia away. Lia surprised Fiona by complying.
“All right,” Mary said when Lia was out of earshot. “Out with it. Whatfashesye?”
“What doesna?” She told Mary what she’d been thinking about her options, the MacBean, the house in Inverness, the fear that Erik wouldn’t come for her and she’d never be able to show her face in Rose again, all of it.
“’Twill soon be resolved, ye ken that, right? He’s nearly here. He is coming for ye. That means he wants ye. Why else would he sail across the Moray Firth to Rose?”
“Out fishing and got blown off course? Forgot which side of the firth Ross controls?” Fiona straightened and slapped her knees. “Mayhap ’tis no’ him. But if it is, what will I say to him?”
“Ye will think of something.”
“Right now, I can only think of all the ways this could go wrong.”
“Stop that this instant,” Mary chided. “Ye have choices, aye, but they are all good ones. Well, mayhap no’ the MacBean,” she added with a grin.
For Mary’s sake, Fiona forced a chuckle. “Aye. He could be 70 years old with hair growing out of his ears.”
Mary shuddered. “Or much younger than ye. He coulda been an infant when the betrothal was signed.”
“Dear God, that might be worse. I’d be more mother than wife.”
“Or ye could accept what ye have begun with Erik Ross, who, to my eye, is a fine-looking man.”
“One of the best I’ve ever seen, aye.”
Mary cut her a glance out of the corner of her eye. “Any smart lass would think so.”
“I’ll be the envy of all.” Fiona was jesting, trying to build up her confidence, but she also suspected it was true.
Mary grinned, then sobered, her gaze still on the approaching ship. “He seems to care for ye.”
“He treats me well.”
“And he’ll protect ye.”
“With all those muscles, how could he do anything else?”
