Page 9 of Married for a Highland Debt
“I have made inquiries,” he said smoothly, “and I have discovered that your father is deeply in debt. I believe he has a gambling problem. Is that not so?”
Bettina’s face drained of color. If he had that information, it must mean that he knew her father’s name.
“Who told you this?” she asked tremulously.
He smiled. It was the first time she had ever seen him doing so, but it was not a pleasant expression, being more of a sneer. “I have my sources,” he replied. “You might as well answer my question, Bettina.”
“You seem to know the answer already.” She had tried to make herself sound defiant, but all that came out of her mouth was a whimper.
She had no idea how much Ninian wanted to put his arms around her at that moment, moved to pity by her helplessness. Then he reminded himself that if Bettina accepted him, she would be nothing more than a vessel for his seed—a means to an end.
“Tell me again,” he ordered. “I have no intention of sending you away, Bettina.”
She sat down at the desk and put her head in her hands. “You know my real name,” she said resignedly. She looked down at her hands as she went on. “My father has gambled away everything we have.” Her voice was infinitely sad, and Ninian had to remind himself once more to harden his heart. “Our house was sold from under us, but I managed to sort out an arrangement with one of his creditors.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “I have to work now, but I am not ashamed.”
“I want to help you,” he said slowly, pulling up a chair beside her, “but I need something from you in return.”
Bettina put both her hands up, palms facing forward, in a warning gesture. “I will not become your mistress!” she cried. “I will never do that!”
“I am not asking you to become my mistress.” His voice was deceptively soothing.
Bettina breathed a long, deep sigh of relief.
“I am asking you to become my wife,” he said suddenly.
Bettina’s eyes flew open, and she let out a startled gasp. “What?” she squeaked. “No—no!” She leaped out of her chair and made for the door, only to find that he had got there before her and was standing in front of it, blocking it with his solid bulk.
“Listen to me.” His voice was gentle and reassuring. “Hear me out, Bettina. Then if you still want to refuse me, you may work here for as long as you wish, and we will never speak of it again.”
Bettina, who was trying to bring her racing heartbeat under control, hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Tell me what you want from me.”
“Look at me first,” he said, tilting her chin up. It was the first time he had touched her since the first day they met, and she was surprised by the warmth of his hands. “You need help in paying off your father’s debts, and I need a wife and an heir. Marry me, and your debts will be paid. You will live in comfort, and your family will want for nothing.”
Bettina’s head was spinning as she tried to grasp what had just happened. It was a dream—a nightmare—it had to be. Why would the laird want to marry an impoverished servant like her? Just as she was about to refuse, a shaft of doubt pierced her. He was an unpleasant man, but he was not brutal. Could she live with his grim sullenness, or was there another side to him, one that he did not show to the world? What he had suggested was the answer to all her prayers.
“May I think about it?” she asked as she turned away and avoided his eyes.
“Of course,” he replied. “I understand this has all been a shock. Tell me in a few days, and in the meantime, live your life as usual.”
“And what will I tell my friends in the kitchen?” Bettina asked. “They will all want to know why you sent for me and why you did not carry out your threat to dismiss me.”
Ninian sighed, passed his hands over his eyes, and thought for a moment. “Say that I ordered you not to tell them but reassure them that it is nothing to worry about. It is the truth.”
Bettina looked into his piercing blue eyes for a second, then nodded and left. She was profoundly shocked, so much so that she had stopped looking where she was going and collided with someone walking toward her. She squealed and swayed on her feet, then experienced a moment of unreality as she found herself looking once more into a pair of bright blue eyes. This time, however, they belonged to a woman, and she was dismayed to see that she was Ninian Ogilvy’s aunt.
“I am so sorry!” she cried. “Did I hurt you? I was miles away.”
To her surprise, the woman smiled at her before shaking her head. “No, my dear. There is no harm done at all. In fact, you are just the person I want to see. Come.” She took Bettina by the wrist and led her down the corridor to a small parlor, where she bade her sit down while she ordered some spiced ale for both of them. “I much prefer this to wine,” she said. “Ale is such an honest drink.”
“Why did you want to see me, mistress?” Bettina asked anxiously. “I must be getting back to work.”
Alison Robertson studied her for a moment. “Has my nephew spoken to you?” she asked frankly. “He told me that he would.”
“About marrying me?” Bettina’s voice was quivering, and her hands were trembling as the shock of the events of the last little while finally hit her.
Alison nodded.
“Yes, he did,” she replied. Tears sprang to her eyes, and despite her efforts to brush them away, they ran down her cheeks. “I am sorry,” she sniffed. “It is all so overwhelming.”
