Page 55 of Tangled in a Highland Conspiracy
However, he had to make her feel safe. He knew in his heart that he would do anything for this woman; she owned his heart, and if circumstances had been different he would have shouted their news from the rooftops.
“I will never leave you alone and unaided,” he told her. “If you are carrying our child you must have the best of everything, so I will settle a sum of money on you and provide you with a cottage to live in while you are pregnant. You will have whatever you need.”
Nessa wrapped her arms around him and began to weep with relief. “Thank ye, my love,” she said tearfully.
Ramsay was born seven months later, but in the process of giving birth, Nessa caught a childbed fever and died several days later. Contrary to the story he had made up, the Laird named his son Ramsay but pretended that the nanny he had engaged to look after him had named him. After that, he paid the woman who delivered him a sizable sum to leave the village, although he decided to keep Ramsay at the castle among his family. He could not abandon Nessa’s child by letting him be adopted.
His heart was shattered, but he had always been adept at hiding his feelings, and he never allowed anyone to see how devastated he was. Consequently, he was often seen as being rather cold and aloof.
His wife Janice was not best pleased, and shunned him for months, only forgiving him on her deathbed when she passed away two years later of a tumour on her lung. He never remarried.
* * *
The crowd of men had a mixed reaction to Broderick’s story. Some were outraged, some were sympathetic, and a few were merely philosophical; after all, they had all been tempted at some time.
A short while later the assembly broke up. After the Laird had said farewell and thanked everyone, he limped over to Ramsay and Ailsa, who were sitting close together, holding hands but saying little.
Laird Ormond looked at Ramsay sorrowfully. “I should have treated you better, my boy,” he said gently. “But every time I look at you I see your mother, and even after all these years I miss her. She was the love of my life and still is. But despite how cold I have been to you for your whole life, I love you as much as I loved John. You are my flesh and blood, as he was. Is it too late for me to start behaving like a proper father, or have I forever lost any hope of winning your love and respect?”
Ramsay hesitated, thinking back over the years, feeling once again his father’s indifference and contempt. He had done without many things which John had not, not just materially, but emotionally too. He could not count the number of slights and insults that had been heaped upon him, and he knew that forgiveness would be difficult.
He looked at the shrivelled figure before him and felt only pity mixed with contempt. He could not love his father at this moment, but could he grow to love him?
“Are you sure you do not just need a substitute for John?” He asked doubtfully.
Broderick Ormond shook his head vigorously. “I want my second son,” he replied, his voice firm and sure. “John was John, and you are you, Ramsay. You are a different person, a fine person. I always knew this, but I was so blinded by how much it hurt me to look at you and be reminded of your mother that it was easier to keep you at a distance. I was cruel, and I cannot say how sorry I am.” He put his hand out and clasped his son’s. “Please,” he begged.
“I will try,” Ramsay answered. “But I will need time.”
“Good enough,” the Laird said, smiling.
“One more thing,” Ramsay said, frowning. “When is my birthday?”
“November the second,” the Laird answered, smiling.
Thank you, John,Ramsay thought happily.You were right.
23
“There is much we have to discuss, but not now. I am very weary after this very trying day, and I am sure you are too.” The Laird said, then turned to Ailsa. “Thank you,” he said softly, putting his hand on her arm. “Thank you for your courage in coming here today, Mistress Ailsa, and thank you for telling the truth. You are welcome here at any time, and if you need anything from me and my family I will make every effort to get it for you.”
“Thank you too, M’Laird,” she answered. “You listened to me and believed me. Perhaps now we can make a new start.”
Ailsa smiled at his old, tired face, seeing a glimpse of the goodness he had kept hidden for so long. She felt enormous pity for him. John, his pride and joy, had been snatched away from him when he was in the prime of his life. Moreover, he had wasted so much time keeping Ramsay at arm’s length that he had barely enough time to put things right.
“You look so much like her,” the Laird said wistfully, gazing at his son. “The same dark hair, the same grey eyes. You received so much from Nessa and so little from me.”
Perhaps if I had looked less like her you would have loved me more,Ramsay thought, although he did not voice it. “I wish I had known her,” he said sadly.
“I wish that too,” his father replied. “But I am determined now that you shall, in some small way at least. I will tell you everything about her and hopefully, you will find out I am not the ogre you thought I was.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but after a few seconds of hesitation, he bowed to them and hobbled out.
Ramsay sighed with relief as Ailsa’s arms came around him and she hugged him tightly, saying nothing, but calming his tired spirit as nothing else could have done. Thinking back to earlier in the day when he had been brought into the Great Hall, it seemed as if years had passed.
Then, he had been in chains, but now he was free, unencumbered by shackles or fear. The only burden he had to carry now was the sadness he felt at the loss of his brother, but he knew even that would lessen with time. He thought briefly about Larry and Moira. Would he miss them? He smiled suddenly, only realising at that moment what a burden he had been carrying because of them for years. Their constant hostility had been dragging him down, draining his spirit of joy, but Ailsa had changed all of that.
“I must go,” she said sadly.
“You cannot go yet,” Ramsay protested. “It is beginning to rain, and nearly dark. This is the kind of weather when horses slip and break their legs, and even though you have guards with you, it is not safe to ride on such a bad road as the one to Mulrigg.”
