Page 133 of The Scot Beds His Wife
Had he not known better, he’d say she looked exactly like a Mackenzie.
And a Mackenzie she was, because a Mackenzie he remained.
A light knock on the door gave his Bonny a chance to adjust her blouse and shift Ellie to her shoulder to pat her vigorously on the back.
“Come in,” Gavin called.
Eammon poked his head into the room, still wary of a newly wedded couple behind closed doors, even after all these months.
Gavin beckoned to the man who’d been like a father to him in more ways than he could count. Thinking that Eammon’s own wedding would be upon them before long, as he’d engaged himself to Eleanor not two months ago.
“The post arrived,” Eammon informed them, conveying a bundle of letters and such to the chaise. “There’s one from America, addressed to you, my lady.”
Bonny’s eyes clashed with his. This was the letter she’d been waiting for. The response for her confession to Alison Ross.
Gavin took it, and with her permission, he broke the seal and ripped it open, tilting it so she could read over his shoulder.
Dearest Lady Thorne,
I confess I knew of your actions before word had reached me. I garnered this knowledge when applying for a marriage license, where I was denied for reasons of bigamy. The paperwork has subsequently been sorted, but not in time to retain my fiancé. It’s all for the best, I suppose, as I realized that we are not suited to each other.
I have decided to return to the Highlands, and I believe that the enclosed pages from my late mother’s journal will explain why.
It was preposterous to attempt to keep Erradale from Mackenzie hands, as it was owned by a Mackenzie all along.
I’ve sent word to Ravencroft, and will be arriving there in time for Christmas. I’d like to see you and your new husband as soon as possible.
All my love,
Alison Ross
“What a relief.” His Bonny breathed out a great sigh. “She doesn’t sound angry, does she? That’s so good. It’ll be lovely to see her again.”
Gavin barely heard her, as his eyes scanned the subsequent journal entry with a growing sense of alarm and disbelief.
Erradale was owned by a Mackenzie all along.
That night… The night his mother was blinded. The night Liam conducted the unfortunate Tessa McGrath home. The night his father had gone to the village to claim a woman he’d had his eyes on for a long time.
The woman had been the delicately pretty Mrs. Ross. According to her journal, Hamish Mackenzie hadn’t taken no for an answer that night. And nine months later, Mrs. Ross had given birth to a baby girl.
Alison.
Gavin thought about what Callum had said. That Mrs. Ross had never recovered, and Alison had grown up practically without a mother. James Ross had eventually called Hamish Mackenzie out, challenging him to a duel which he inevitably lost.
Then Mrs. Ross had dragged her daughter away. Far away. As far away from her rapist as she could possibly get.
San Francisco, California.
“Jesus Jehosephat Christ,” his wife breathed, indicating that she’d read the journal page, as well. “You have a little sister.”
“Aye,” he breathed, unable to wrap his mind around the revelation. He looked up to Eammon, who blinked rapidly at them both. “We… we need to tell Callum that she’s coming back. This is what he wanted.”
“Agreed,” Eammon said seriously.
Beside him his wife grunted, then snorted, then burst into laughter loud enough to startle poor Ellie to release the burp that Bonny had been trying to coax out of her.
Both men glanced at her as though she’d gone mad, which seemed to feed her hysterics until she was holding her child with one hand, and clutching Gavin’s wrist with another.
