Chapter Thirty-Nine

The towering stone walls of Castle McGuiness were dark gray with an air of menace permeating the entire surroundings. They rather reflected Alec’s disposition at the moment, Connie thought. The last few hours of the trip he’d stayed silent, radiating a black mood through the small confines of the carriage as he sat next to her, holding himself stiffly, in what she suspected was his way of trying to distance himself from her again.

She wasn’t exactly sure what had triggered this dark mood of his, but if he thought he was going to deter her from her mission, he was sorely mistaken. Though in all truth he was most likely hating having to travel back to his family estate and see his brother again. Especially when he’d thought he wouldn’t be returning.

Connie disliked putting him in an uncomfortable position; she knew all too well what it was like having to deal with difficult family members, though thankfully, her family had never betrayed her like Alec’s brother had.

The carriage crested the rise, making its way through the archways and into the courtyard of the castle. The servants had obviously been informed of their impending arrival, as several of them were waiting outside, and standing in front of them was a man of around seventy years, who could be none other than Alec’s father. The resemblance between the men, nothing short of striking. His father could literally be Alec in about forty years’ time.

For some reason, Connie felt nervous. She’d never met Laird McGuiness before but imagined if he was anything like either Alec or Iain, which as their father, she assumed he would be, then he’d be an intimidating man, brutally honest and gruff, someone who didn’t suffer fools easily. The same temperament both his sons projected effortlessly.

Though she’d only met Alec’s brother from a distance when she’d first come up to the Highlands after her marriage to Duncan, her impression of Iain McGuiness, the Viscount of Dalkeith, had been lasting. Not only had Iain been monstrously big, easily the tallest and most muscled man she’d ever laid eyes on, but he also had a taciturn temperament to match. With a perpetual frown on his face, he’d been extremely intimidating, though that hadn’t hindered some of the ladies from approaching him. After all, he was considered one of the biggest matrimonial catches in Scotland.

Though Alec was clearly the more handsome of the two, even if he was the younger one. Glancing over to him as the carriage came to a stop, she saw the tightening of his jaw as he stared past her toward where his father was waiting.

Malcolm stepped down from the carriage first, before turning and offering his hand to Connie. Alec bristled beside her, but she ignored his display and placed her own hand in Malcolm’s. She’d decided to forgive Malcolm his crass comments from earlier, after he’d spent nearly the entire six-hour journey looking deeply regretful. She hadn’t been all that serious, though she got the sense that Malcolm was the sort of man who was so used to being charming and witty that he sometimes forgot what it meant to be compassionate.

Sometimes men like that needed a reminder.

Stepping down beside her, Alec took her other hand in his own, and she could have sworn she heard a low growl emanate from deep in his throat.

Clearly, Malcolm had heard it, too, as he very quickly dropped her hand and took a hasty step to the side. Connie nearly rolled her eyes while suppressing a small smile. She didn’t know why she found Alec’s display heartening, but she did.

Alec led her over to where his father was standing, several servants lined up behind him, and she found herself staring into eyes that looked amazingly like Alec’s, though instead of the brown mahogany depths of his son’s, the Earl of Caldwell—or Laird McGuiness, as Alec had told her his father preferred being called—had piercing gray eyes that were creased with the signs of time. The man appeared nervous and was watching Alec almost like he wanted to hug him but didn’t dare. There was such longing in the man’s expression that Connie felt her heart soften toward him.

She’d been prepared to dislike him for daring to throw his son out when Alec had been only seven. But heartache did do crazy things to some, and Connie imagined the man’s heart would have been broken to have learned that not only had his wife been having an affair with his best friend for years upon years, but that the illicit liaison had also potentially produced the boy he’d thought of as his own.

Still, though, she couldn’t quite forgive the man completely. He should have ridden to England as soon as he realized the fool he’d been. Though the man was a McGuiness, and a Scotsman at that, which meant that stubbornness was all but bred into his bones. Into all the McGuiness men.

The two men shook hands, and then Laird McGuiness turned his arresting eyes upon her. She could see the keen intelligence behind the thick lashes that all McGuiness men were blessed with. It was a glance that spoke volumes, all at once assessing and appraising her.

“Do I pass muster, Laird McGuiness?” Connie asked, her old confidence returning, day by day, as the knowledge that Duncan really was dead and could never hurt her again seeped into her awareness.

For a second, the man seemed to be confounded by her boldness, and she thought she may have gone too far. But then a boom of laughter erupted from his chest, and the tension left her.

Goodness, it felt good to be direct, instead of worrying over every single word she uttered, as she’d had to with Duncan, when even the most innocent of comments could earn his wrath.

“Aye, you pass muster, duchess,” Laird McGuiness replied, his nod mirroring his sentiment. He picked up her hand and placed a chaste kiss on the knuckles of her glove. But instead of letting go, he leaned in toward her slightly. “I’m sorry for what you’re having to go through, but I have to admit I’m not sorry for the loss of that absolute bastard husband of yours. I could never stand the man’s slick ways, and I think the world is a better place without him. If you’ll forgive me for saying so.”

Connie probably couldn’t have said it better herself, even if she still felt a pang of guilt for thinking such thoughts. “There’s nothing to forgive when one tells the truth, is there?”

A big grin split across Laird McGuiness’s face. “Aye, that’s the truth of it.” He let go of her hand and turned to face Alec. “I like this lady of yours. I certainly do.”

Connie looked down at the ground and wished desperately that a little patch of the dirt would open up and swallow her whole. Alec’s lady. Something she would never be, even if she did persuade him to make love to her. Though of course, Laird McGuiness was probably just referring to the fact that Alec was helping her and as such, she was under his protection, at least for the time being.

In response, Alec raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be inside resting, considering your health concerns of late?”

The laird harrumphed. “Yes, well, I seem to have recovered somewhat.”

“Remarkable,” Alec responded dryly.

“Aye, ’tis. But enough about me.” Laird McGuiness returned his attention to Connie. “You’ll be safe here, and you can be darn sure that we won’t be letting no goddamn Campbell men on McGuiness property!”

“I do thank you for having me,” Connie replied. “The last thing I wish to do is bring trouble to your estate, though, laird.”

He shrugged his very broad shoulders and grinned. “Oh, we don’t mind a bit of trouble now and then, lassie. Come, let’s get you settled in. I daresay you’ll be famished.”

“I certainly am,” Malcolm chimed in.

“When are you not, boy?” Laird McGuiness replied. He took Connie’s elbow and guided her toward the entrance of the castle. “Cook has prepared a lovely early supper for you, and then in a few hours the whole clan shall be arriving at the outer fields to celebrate Beltane’s Eve.”

“Father, the duchess needs to rest—after all she’s been through, she’s not going to want to take part in the celebrations.”

“I certainly wish to, Alec McGuiness!” Connie said. “Duncan never let me take part in the ones on the Kilmaine estate, and I’ve heard that the McGuiness Clan celebrations are a sight to behold.”

“Aye. There isn’t a clan in Scotland that celebrates Beltane’s Eve like we do.” There was a note of deep pride in the laird’s voice. “You’ll have the time of your life. Besides, surely enjoyment, after all the horrors you’ve recently been through, would be exactly what a doctor would prescribe, would it not?” He pointedly glanced over at Alec as they walked up the steps to the double oak doorway.

“They’re a damn excuse for everyone to dance and get drunk, is what they are,” Alec replied. “Something I would never prescribe.”

“Well, you’re not really known as the doctor of fun, are you now?” Malcolm drolly replied. “Though he is rather correct, your grace—lots of shenanigans do take place. It’s jolly good fun, actually!”

Connie grinned back at Malcolm. It certainly sounded like fun, and fun was something she hadn’t had in a very long time. The night could also hopefully provide her with an opportunity to dance with Alec. An activity they’d never partaken in, as the one and only time he’d asked her, her mother had intervened. Connie often regretted letting her mother dictate to her on that night all those years ago. If only she’d had the strength to stand up to her mother, things may well have been very different.

“Well, it looks like it’s going to rain, anyway.” Alec motioned to the looming thick gray clouds above.

“Bah,” his father scoffed. “They’ll blow over.”

Connie had to admit the vivid purple gray of the clouds looked somewhat ominous, and she hoped the threatening storm wasn’t an omen of what was to come.

She pulled her cloak more tightly around her and felt a slight chill of apprehension.