Page 74 of Miss Delightful
“Your commanding officerdid thatto you?”
“He did that to all of his direct reports, and we learned not to approach him unless we were in twos and threes. He wasn’t as able to claim he’d been misheard, misunderstood, misinterpreted, or ignored when his subordinates stuck together, though he still got away with much.” Alasdhair sat back, and yet, he remained on his knees before her. “Don’t marry me, Dorcas, and I will somehow live with that sorrow, but for the love of God, don’t marry Mornebeth either.”
This man… This chivalrous, humble man. Dorcas touched Alasdhair’s shoulder. “I know why you stayed under Dunacre’s command, Alasdhair. You stayed to protect your men as best you could for as long as you could. You stayed because you knew the havoc he could cause and took every possible measure to mitigate those harms. If I love my family, then I will marry Isaiah.”
“If they love you, you should not have to.” Alasdhair took her hand and bowed his head. “I transferred to a different unit lest I kill my commanding officer, Dorcas, and I left the men to Powell’s care. Please do not marry Mornebeth. I am begging you not to marry him.”
A good man was begging on his knees before her, and the moment should have held a little wonderment for Dorcas on those grounds alone. Instead, she was disgusted with herself to have reduced Alasdhair MacKay to begging. She rose from the bed and sidled around him.
“I have some time to accommodate myself to the notion of marrying Mornebeth. Isaiah understands that upstaging Michael’s visit with an engagement would be in poor taste.”
Alasdhair stood and braced a hand on the bedpost. “I missed that commandment. Never display poor taste when forcing a woman to marry you.”
He did irony bitterly well. “I am not being forced, Alasdhair. Wasn’t it you who said I have the latitude to make my own choices? I am choosing to keep my family free of scandal, to make a suitable match, and to—”
“To break my heart, which does not matter, but you put your own wellbeing at risk, Dorcas. I agree with you that Mornebeth is unlikely to stash you away at some walled estate in the north in the near term. He’ll want a few children of you first. He will instead tie you in knots, until you believe his lies over the evidence of your own eyes. He already got away with raping you, and because he bound you with ties of familial loyalty rather than physical ropes, you excuse his coercion.”
“I don’t excuse it, but I admit the degree to which I was complicit.”
Alasdhair laid a warm palm to the side of her face. “You were forced,” he said gently. “You cannot admit that, because such an admission would mean you were powerless once before and could be again. I understand more clearly than you think I do.”
“You are not to hurt him, Alasdhair. That won’t solve anything and will see you behind bars.”
Alasdhair studied her for a moment, his blue eyes once again growing as chilly and unreadable as they’d been when she’d first brought John to this household.
“You have the authority to make the choices you see fit, Dorcas, but you presume to forbid me the same right?”
“No, but I can implore. Don’t hurt him. He’ll find a way to hurt you or somebody you love worse.”
Alasdhair scrubbed a hand over his face. “Precisely. And thus, the only way to survive an encounter with such as Mornebeth is to care for nobody, not even yourself. You are incapable of surrendering your soul to that degree, Dorcas; hence, he will always best you.”
A soldier apparently learned to think like that, in terms of ultimate costs and outcomes. “Don’t kill him either, Alasdhair. I won’t have that on my conscience.” Dorcas did not allow herself to glance at the bed, she simply walked toward the door. That was how a farewell happened, one step at a time.
“You won’t look in on John?” Alasdhair asked, ambling at her side.
“I cannot bear to,” Dorcas said as they reached the top of the steps. “Isaiah knows John is here, by the way, and exactly who the boy is and who you are. Somebody in your household has probably been treated to a pint at the corner pub, or several pints.”
Alasdhair paused, a hand braced on the newel post as if he’d suffered a blow. “Thank you for telling me. Doesn’t it bother you that you are marrying a man who has spied on you the better to intimidate you?”
“Yes, it bothers me. It bothers me exceedingly, but I don’t see any other way to deal with the threat he poses, Alasdhair. Which murdering general advised keeping friends close and enemies closer? Perhaps he was right. Are you well?”
“Peckish. Heartbroken. A trifle dazed, as if I’ve suffered a blow to the head in the midst of a classic French ambush.” He started down the steps. “Nothing that some biscuits and whisky or twenty years of pining shouldn’t put to rights.”
“Please try not to hate me.” Dorcas trailed after him, half worried that he might stumble and fall.
He reached the foyer and held out her cloak for her. “I could never hate you. Try not to hate yourself, Dorcas, but you have my leave to hate Mornebeth all you please. I certainly hate him.” He smoothed her cloak over her shoulders, the touch shading toward a caress.
She did up her own frogs lest Alasdhair’s fingers brush her chin. “If you hear anything regarding Melanie, will you send word?”
He gazed past her shoulder. “I doubt I will hear anything, and if you are married to Mornebeth, sending word that your disgraced cousin is alive and well would only give him that much more leverage over you and your family. You are making a mistake, Dorcas.”
“I know, but I am trying to make the least costly among several mistakes, and I don’t see any other choice, Alasdhair. Isaiah is clever and determined and diabolically patient.”
“Diabolical, I’ll grant you. You could come to Scotland with me.”
“And leave my father and brother sitting in Mornebeth’s crosshairs?”
“So instead you will occupy that dubious post yourself.” He wrapped the scarf around her neck and ears. “I feel as if I’m watching another blameless woman throw her life away, Dorcas. Please don’t do this.”
