Page 63 of Hard-Hearted Highlander
“Bernadette Holly,” Daisy repeated. “That name sounds very familiar, but I can’t say why.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Yes, of course! She is the daughter of Mr. Theodore Holly,” she said, and then turned her head and pulled on her earlobe. “She was involved in a bit of a scandal,” she said lightly.
“Aye, so I’ve heard,” Rabbie said.
“You know of the elopement?” Daisy asked.
He nodded.
“Ah. Poor thing. She must have loved him dearly to be compelled to elope. I recall there was some talk of a child, too, although who can say if that is true?”
Achild? Rabbie managed to shrug and remain stoic, but that bit of news stunned him. She had a bastard child? Where was the child? He couldn’t imagine she’d be here, attending the mouse, if she had a child...would she?
The idea of a child filled his thoughts on the return ride to Balhaire.
At Balhaire once again, Cailean went to speak to their father about his ideas for the smuggled cargo, and Rabbie retired to the rooms he used when at the castle. He lay on his bed, staring up at the fraying canopy. Something had shifted in him, he realized. His universe, so narrow and closed not two weeks ago, had tilted.
The difference was that he didn’t feel the need to die. What was different was that he realized, with painful clarity, that he wanted what Cailean and Daisy shared. What Vivienne and Marcas shared. He wanted a wife he loved and children he adored. He still wanted all the things he’d assumed he’d have with Seona. He was only beginning to understand that those desires had not died with her, and that those desires were still alive in him—weak and neglected, but still alive.
Somehow, that idea that Bernadette might have a child in the world somewhere had helped him to understand it. He was not appalled or put off by it, not in the least—he didn’t know if it was even true. But it made him curious, made him think about having a child. He could imagine it, and it surprised him that he could, given how bleak his thoughts had been for so long. And yet, lying there, he could imagine being a father, a husband, a lover. He could imagine all those things that he thought were dead to him.
Unfortunately, he could not imagine those things with Avaline Kent, and the conflict in him raged.
When it came time for supper, Rabbie dressed in his plaid, uncaring who might object. And in fact, when he entered the great hall, Cailean’s dark brow rose. But he said nothing.
There was quite a lot of commotion when the Kents arrived—it seemed that Lord Kent never grew weary of hearing himself speak, and particularly liked to start the moment he walked into a room. In they all trooped, Lady Kent in a drab gray gown, Miss Kent in blue. Lord Kent and his brother had already had a wee bit of whisky—they boasted of the fine stock they’d purchased from the Buchanans—and began firing questions to Rabbie’s father about this or that.
Rabbie looked to the back of the hall, waiting for Bernadette to make her appearance. Drinks were poured, Lord Kent greeted Cailean like a long-lost brother.
Still, Bernadette did not come. A slight panic rose in Rabbie. He made his way to his fiancée, who was speaking quite gaily to Aulay.
“Feasgar math,”Rabbie said, interrupting.
She made a sound of surprise. Her lashes fluttered nervously, and the color in her cheeks suddenly rose. “Good evening,” she said, and curtsied. “I was just telling your brother that we almost lost a horse! Can you imagine?” she asked, and turned back to Aulay to continue her story.
When she had finished—it did seem to Rabbie to wind around the point a wee bit long—he said, “If I may, Miss Kent?”
“Please,” Aulay said briskly, gesturing to Rabbie, and quickly walked away.
Miss Kent watched him go, then looked up at Rabbie. “Yes, sir?”
“You have come without your maid, aye?”
“Bernadette? Oh, yes, unfortunately. She’s unwell.”
Unwell? “What’s wrong, then?”
“A headache, that’s all. Oh, there is your sister! Will you excuse me? I should like to thank her for the wedding cup she sent me.” She walked away to where her mother was standing with Vivienne and Aulay, leaving Rabbie to stand alone.
Bloody hell if she had a headache. Rabbie glared at the entrance to the great hall. She was avoiding him, and a rush of fury rose up in him so swiftly, he could scarcely contain it. He glanced at the mantel clock. He had an hour and a half before the supper would be served, and walked out the door without looking back or saying a word to anyone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BERNADETTEWASDETERMINEDto tell Avaline the truth about what had happened between her and Rabbie. She fully expected to be turned out for it, and she was prepared for that—or as best she could be, realizing she’d have no choice but to retreat to Balhaire and hope for mercy there. But it hardly mattered if she was banished to wander the Highlands for the rest of her life—she couldn’t live with herself after what she’d done. She couldn’t watch Avaline stand at the altar with Rabbie and swear fidelity for the rest of her life, knowing she’d betrayed her. She couldn’t listen to Avaline take her vows to marry him, knowing what she felt in her heart about him.
Bernadette was determined, but when she’d returned to Killeaven the afternoon of her tryst, Avaline was feverish with excitement. “Lady Chatwick and her husband have come,” she said with great verve as she took Bernadette by the hand and pulled her into her room. “We are invited to dine tomorrow night! Should I wear this?” she asked, holding up a gold gown and embroidered stomacher. “Or this?” She next held up a blue mantua.
When Lady Chatwick—or more properly, Mrs. Mackenzie—and her husband had called at Bothing with a proposal of marriage all those months ago, the woman had mesmerized Avaline. Bernadette had not had the pleasure of making the lady’s acquaintance, but Avaline assured Bernadette several times over that Lady Chatwick was a beautiful woman full of grace and poise, and “wore a smile for everyone, down to the lowest stable boy. You should have seen her.”
Avaline had been so enthralled with Mrs. Mackenzie that she’d not seemed to understand her father had agreed to marry her off to a Highlander she’d never met. She chose instead to think of all the ways Lady Chatwick was superior to any other woman she’d ever met and professed that she hoped one day to be just like her.
