Page 24 of Married for a Highland Debt
He watched her as she left, unwilling to show her how much her news had upset him. Margaret was a woman of many talents, but by far the best one was the ability to make trouble.
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Having thought about the situation for a few hours, Bettina decided that there was nothing to be gained by staying at her father’s house; after all, she had vowed to be Ninian’s wife for better or for worse, and she would hold to that. Money was a very important consideration, but it was by no means the be-all and end-all of everything.
“I must go back, Da,” she said as they ate dinner together that night. “This is my fault for being ignorant and naïve.” She sighed and picked at her food. “I promised before God that I would stay with my husband, and I have to honor those promises. I have no choice.”
“No.” William was insistent. “You should let me speak with him.”
“It does not matter how much you beg, Da. You cannot interfere between a woman and her husband,” she said firmly. “I will sleep here tonight and return in the morning. Perhaps Ninian will have had a little time to think then.”
After a restless night sleeping in her father’s uncomfortable bed, Bettina returned to Inchgarvie Castle the next afternoon.
“Bettie!” Ninian stood up as she came through his study door without knocking.
“You look terrible,” she said, alarmed as she took in his tousled appearance. He had obviously been running his hands again and again through his hair, which looked like a haystack, and he had not shaved. A golden sheen around his jaw and chin marked where his beard had begun to grow again.
“I have had a terrible night,” he growled, flopping down in his seat again. “Worrying.”
“About me? I was with my father.” Her voice was impatient. “You know that.”
“Not about you,” he replied with an exasperated sigh. “My former wife Margaret has just been to see me. She says that she is pregnant, obviously with another man’s baby, but says she came to warn me in case the news should leak and everyone thinks that I am infertile. She more or less threatened to blackmail me.”
“Does she look pregnant?” Bettina asked. She was hanging on to her temper by a thread.
“Not yet. She says she has only missed her courses twice.” He put his hands over his face, and for a moment, Bettina thought he was going to weep.
“Really?” Bettina’s voice was cutting. “Has she left yet?”
“God, I hope so,” he answered.
Margaret had just mounted her horse to begin her journey back to her hometown when she heard her name being called. She looked over her shoulder and saw a young woman striding toward her from inside the castle.
One of the stable hands called to her as she walked past him. “Welcome back, milady,” he called, smiling. “We were a’ worried about ye.”
“Thank you, Willie,” she replied, smiling as she put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I was only visiting my father.”
“Is he well, milady?” another man asked politely.
“Very much so, thank you, Gordon.” Bettina smiled at him and turned to greet Margaret. However, she hesitated when she caught the distinctly hostile gleam in her eyes.
“Milady Ogilvy?” the woman asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes, and who might you be?” Bettina asked, frowning, even though she knew the answer before it was given.
The young woman raked Bettina with a scornful glance from her head to her toes. “The first Lady Ogilvy,” she replied with a spiteful smile. “Margaret Ogilvy.”
“I think you mean theformerLady Ogilvy,” Bettina corrected her. “Now, were you just leaving, mistress?”
“I was, but now I would like to speak to you, milady,” Margaret answered, her eyes glinting with malice. “Come, let us talk more privately.”
Bettina folded her arms, then nodded and led the way back inside to the parlor, where she and Margaret sat facing each other.
For a moment, there was a hostile silence while the two women stared at each other, each refusing to give way. Margaret dropped her gaze first, however, and Bettina gave an impatient sigh.
“I have better things to do than sit here waiting for you to speak!” she snapped. “Please say what you have to, then get out.”
“Of course,” Margaret answered, her bright green eyes boring into Bettina’s. “You know that your husband is infertile?”
