Page 37 of The Return of the Heir

Chapter Ten

Alastair escorted Gwendolyn to the library. He waved her into a chair beside the desk before addressing the man already in the chamber. “Thank you for coming here so quickly, Mr Buchannan. Gwendolyn Harris will be present for this discussion.”

“Of course. Nice to meet you both.” The man offered first Alastair, then Gwendolyn, a bow of his head. “Please, call me Geordie.”

Alastair took his seat behind the overly large desk that he would forever associate with his father. Instead of looking at Gwendolyn, Alastair turned his gaze to the young man who sat opposite him. He was of medium height with a square, hard jaw. His eyes were an arresting colour of blue that studied Alastair as though contemplating what kind of man he was.

“Callum has already informed me on the specifics of this matter.” The solicitor’s gaze shifted between them. “As you both know, a betrothal is considered to be a semi-binding contract. I have a few questions to ask both of you. Some of these questions might be uncomfortable, but I need you to answer them honestly.” Geordie slipped on a pair of spectacles and glanced down at the papers before him and picked up his quill.

“Was there a negotiation of the match?” Geordie asked matter-of-factly.

“Of a sort. There was a negotiation between Gwendolyn, my father, and myself since she had no other kin to speak for her in these matters,” Alastair replied.

Geordie made a notation on his papers. “Was there a bride price paid?”

“Nay,” Gwendolyn answered. “There was no one to dower me.”

“That is not entirely true,” Alastair interrupted with a frown. “You never received it, but my father had a chest of fabric set aside for you.” His gaze slid away from Gwendolyn. “I had forgotten about it until this moment.”

More notations were made. When he had finished, Geordie looked up once more. “Did you sign a contract?”

“Aye,” they both said in unison. Then Alastair continued, “After the signing, the entire castle celebrated that evening with a feast.” The memory came to him, sharp and poignant. It was the first time he had touched Gwendolyn. He’d taken her hand in his and had pressed a kiss to her knuckles. A flare of desire had raced through him like nothing he’d experienced before. And he remembered thinking the next few days could not pass quickly enough until they were wed.

Geordie nodded as he scribbled more notes. When he looked up once more, he avoided looking at Gwendolyn. “Was the betrothal ever consummated?”

Gwendolyn’s cheeks flamed. She shook her head, yet her gaze shifted to Alastair’s lips.

“Nay,” Alastair replied with a mirthless smile. It wasn’t as if that thought had not entered his mind. He wanted to deny such, but he could not. Scenes from that time paraded through his memory: Gwendolyn looking lovelier than he’d ever seen her sitting in the great hall with Mrs Morgan and Mrs Honey, planning the wedding breakfast. . .Gwendolyn leaning against the courtyard wall, gazing out at the loch with the wind pressing her gown against her exquisite form. . .Gwendolyn dancing in the great hall when she thought no one was watching. Sitting with Gwendolyn along the shores of the loch. . .

He looked at her then to see tears forming in her eyes. Was she remembering the past as well? He’d assumed she’d agreed to the betrothal to ensure her survival and that of her siblings. Could it have been more to her as it had been for him? He’d never thought to ask her then, or even now.

“Excuse me, please. I need—” Her voice filled with anguish, she stood and turned away.

He could not let her go without at least trying to comfort her, and perhaps reveal that he too had memories of that time. He followed her out into the hallway and away from the door. He moved to her, caught her shoulders, and turned her to pull her against his chest, tightening his arms around her.

She struggled. “Nay, you should not. . . We should not.”

“’Tis right for us to mourn for what might have been.”

At his words, she relaxed into his embrace. With her head bowed, she stood silently in his arms. Alastair tightened his arms more, as if to absorb any of the hurt he might have caused her.

“I have good memories of the times we were together,” he admitted. “It is good to mourn for what we both lost.”

She looked up at him then. “You remember those times fondly?”

“They were the happiest times of my life thus far.”

She stared at him in astonishment until she lowered her gaze.

“Gwendolyn, I must ask you one more question away from the solicitor. Did Garrick ever force himself on you or your sister?”

Gwendolyn’s cheeks warmed. “He tried to force himself on me once, but I nearly killed him.”

Alastair’s breath released in an explosive rush and his shoulders relaxed. “I wish you had.”

She shook her head. “Then the three of us would have died as well with no food or water.”

“If only I had been here.” Profound sadness echoed in his voice.