Chapter Eighteen
Robert Campbell wasa large man with an even larger voice. From the instant he stepped onto the grounds of Campbell Castle, his gravelly baritone infiltrated every inch of the castle. And that was even before he entered the stone foyer.
Apprehensive to meet her new father-in-law, a man whom she’d already unconsciously judged and found wanting for both his affairs and abandonment of his kin, Brynne lingered behind the children as they threw themselves into Robert’s enormous arms.
They were, she noted with some relief, happy to see him. Even the twins stopped their squalling to stare at him with big, wondrous eyes. After doling out candy from a paper sack, he settled Tavish on his left side, Eara on his right, and beckoned Brynne over with a laughing shout.
“Aye, let me have a look at me new daughter!” he roared, leading her to question if he wasn’t a tad hard of hearing. Dressed in a kilt and leather vest with his red hair, several shades lighter than Lachlan’s deep auburn and peppered heavily with gray, loose and flowing over his shoulders, he was the very picture of a Scottish warrior of old…and not at all what she had expected.
Certainlyherfather had never dangled his children off his hip or bribed them with sweet treats. When the Marquess of Dorchester had seen fit to visit–despite it being his home as well as theirs, it had always felt like a visit–he was cold and contained. Brusque, even. And he’dnevershown them any sort of physical affection.
Brynne gasped aloud when Robert wrapped her in a hearty embrace that stole the breath from her lungs and lifted her onto her tiptoes. It was like being hugged by a giant! Giggling, Eara and Tavish pinched her cheeks and stroked her hair as Robert rocked all three of them back and forth.
“Pwetty,” Tavish gurgled, closing his chubby fist around one of Brynne’s curls, and Lachlan’s father gave a shout of laughter.
“That’s me boy!” He tossed his youngest son into the air and caught him in the crook of his elbow as Brynne gave a tiny squeak of alarm. “Already flirting with the ladies, are ye? A Campbell rite of passage, tae be sure.”
Unsure of what to make of the Marquess of Kintore, Brynne darted a glance at Lachlan, but he was little help. Standing off by himself in the far corner of the foyer, her husband gave her as much acknowledgement as he had this morning after joining her for breakfast. Which was to say, none at all.
After their argument yesterday, he’d gone off to the distillery and had spent the night there while she’d laid awake staring at the ceiling, replaying his words over and over again in her mind as she struggled to make sense of his rage.
What had begun as her attempt to communicate that she merely wanted to be included in important decisions had quickly spiraled into something else. In all the time they’d known each other, she had never witnessed such anger. Such animosity. Such…suchfury. The things he had said to her, coupled with the way he had said them, had revealed a side of his personality that she’d never witnessed before.
The Lachlan she knew–the Lachlan she had married–was sweet, and endearing, and charming. But the Lachlan in the orchards, the Lachlan who had unleashed a torrent of barbed accusations that she’d been helpless to protect herself against, was abrasive, and callous, and hostile.
She wanted to be as angry with him as he was with her.
But she couldn’t.
Because he was right.
About her reluctance to tell Weston she was married. About her dismay at the condition of the castle. And while she wasn’tashamedof their marriage, she was self-conscious of it. Of what others would say once it became public knowledge. Of what they would think. Of what they would do.
She knew that she shouldn’t have cared. And maybe she wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t learned at her governess’ knee that theton’sopinion of her wasn’t just one thing, it waseverything.
Who was she, without the approval of her peers?
She’d prayed that the answer would reveal itself when she came to Campbell Castle. Or disappear entirely. Instead, all she had were more questions…and a husband who refused to look at her. Biting the inside of her cheek in an effort to quell the unease in the pit of her belly, she turned her focus to the other red-haired Scot in the foyer.
“I’ve light refreshments in the parlor if you’d care for some, along with fresh lemonade,” she offered, bestowing upon Lachlan’s father the same smile she’d used when she’d met Queen Victoria. By her estimation, making a good impression on one’s father-in-law was just as beneficial as impressing England’s reigning monarch.
“Och, and are not ye a sweet lass tae offer such a warm welcome?” Robert boomed. “Ye have married a fine lady, Lachlan. A far sight better than that witch yer brother stuck himself with.”
“Ye didna think she was a witch whenyeasked her tae marry ye,” Lachlan said mildly.
“Aye.” Robert gave an unapologetic grin. “That’s the truth of it. A good thing she said no, as I wouldna have wed me Heather, and she wouldna have blessed an old man with these two bairns.” This time, he tossedbothEara and Tavish high into the air and they let out matching squeals of delight while Brynne cringed and clapped a hand over her eyes.
“Whereisme dear stepmother?” asked Lachlan.
“Decorating the nursery with as many toys and rocking horses that she can find.” Robert waggled his bushy eyebrows at Callum, who’d been about to drop a tiny garter snake into Brynne’s pocket as a farewell gift. Blushing, the boy put the creature into his own pocket instead. “She feels poorly for leaving the children here for this long. We both do.” He sobered. “It wasna yer burden tae bear, Son, and the last thing ye need is a pack of cubs running underfoot when ye’re trying tae begin a new life with yer bonny bride.”
Brynne found such an admission touching, but Lachlan merely snorted.
“And what do yer mistresses have tae say about sharing yer attention with yer wifeandfour brats?” he said even as he gave Blaine’s tangled black hair an affectionate tousle.
“They will not complain after I give them a shiny bobble,” Robert said cheerfully. “What do ye think, Daughter? Would ye rather rubies or emeralds tae soothe yer injured feelings?”
Brynne blinked. “Ah…”
