Page 71 of It Happened in the Highlands
“Your job was to protect my Josephine.”
Hot and bitter tears welled up in Jo’s eyes as she imagined the abuse her mother must have endured at the hands of Mrs. Barton.
Graham’s body began to rock forward and backward in his chair, his anguished gaze was fixed on a vacant space on a far wall. He was remembering it all, she thought angrily.
“Why did she run away?” she asked, forcing Graham’s attention.
“Leana lied to her. I didn’t know what she’d done until after the lass was gone.” He stared at Charles. “She told Josephine you were dead. That your ship went down, and you were lost with the rest.”
His rocking increased, and his face was about to crumble.
“She told the lass she would take her bairn away from her, fix it so no one would ever know of the marriage. Then she’d turn her out into the fields for a whore. So she ran away. It was just what Leana wanted.”
And where would Josephine go, but her own home.
“And I swear to you, I had no part of that. I had no idea your mother would stoop to a deceit so low. A terrible storm had been battering us for days. The third in as many weeks. When I came back to the castle, the poor thing was gone. And when I heard what happened from servants who were there, I knew what they said was true.”
“You went to Garloch after her,” Wynne said.
“I couldn’t let her go. I had to bring her back. Not to Leana. But to protect her until you returned. I knew perfectly well we’d received no word of Charles being dead. It was all a lie. I had to find her.” Graham ran a trembling hand down his face, and his eyes showed the ghosts were still haunting him. “I came into Garloch right after the flood. I looked everywhere for her. The place was a near ruin. Houses in the village wrecked and scattered everywhere. The bridge washed out. Water still lay deep in the fields. I found out she’d never made it to her old house. So many people were killed by the storm. So many bodies laid out on the hill by the kirk . . .” His words were choked out under the pressure of his grief.
“Why identify and bury someone else?” Jo asked.
“It wasn’t about taking over what was hers. Not at all.” He shook his head. “I waited for days. I searched myself. She wasn’t anywhere to be found. And then more bodies were discovered downriver as the water dropped. There was no telling one from the other. I had only one thing I could use to identify her.”
Graham’s black eyes glistened with tears.
“The woman that I buried in that grave was in a family way. That was enough for me. I told myself it was Josephine. I made myself believe it. God forgive me, I . . . Iwantedto believe it was her.”
Chapter 24
The following night Wynne returned late from Aberdeen and knocked on her door a few minutes after midnight.
Jo opened the door and threw herself into his arms. Lifting her off her feet, he stepped inside and closed the door behind them.
“Dash me if I haven’t missed you.” he growled, his arms gathering her close.
The message had arrived last night from the constable in Aberdeen that Abram had been taken into custody. Wynne left early in the morning, and there was so much he wanted to share with Jo about what he’d learned. But seeing her soft, sleepy face, the thin shift exposing a bare shoulder, he was distracted from the real reason he’d come this late to her door.
His lips glided over hers, tasting, sampling, delving into her yielding mouth as her hands eagerly pushed the coat off his shoulders.
“Make love to me,” she whispered, pressing her body against his.
They’d stayed out of each other’s bedrooms since the night in Garloch. Time had been precious with all that was happening at Tilmory Castle and at the Abbey. While Cuffe was shadowing Dermot more and more, Jo was spending a great many hours looking after her father and getting him settled. But Wynne had spoken to the vicar. Banns or no banns, he was willing to marry them Saturday if they wished it, and no bribing with golf equipment was required. Revealing their news to Dermot had gone easier than he’d expected. As his friend said, he’d known it was to be from the start, and they owed their happiness to him for playing the rival. Wynne had been in too good a mood to argue.
“As desirable as you look at this moment, Jo,” he said, “We’re to be married on Saturday. Perhaps we should wait until then.”
A single tie bound the neckline of the shift just above her breasts, and she pulled the knot and slipping the garment down her arms.
“Are you certain you’d like to wait?” she asked, coyness mixed with challenge.
Wynne’s lips were ravenous as they settled on hers. Her breast filled his hand, and his loins caught fire. She ignited a passion inside him that was inextinguishable.
She tore her mouth away as she unbuttoned his waistcoat and went to work on his cravat.
“Saturday is such a long way off, Captain.” She pulled his shirt out of his pants and reached her hands under it, running her palms over his burning skin. “But if you insist, we can wait.”
“Perhaps we should assess our situation.” He took one of her hands from beneath his shirt and guided it to his groin. “What do you think? Can I wait?”
