Chapter Twenty-Five

Blair heard raised voices coming from the study. She recognized Finlay’s and was about to fling open the door and run into his arms, when she heard, “Bruce Graham,” barked through the air. Her heart skittered, and she froze. Then came the words, “I have to ken if my wife is plotting against me.”

What?

Pressing herself to the wall, she prayed she’d misunderstood. Why would he suspect such a thing? She’d told him everything.

She listened to Finlay’s raised voice. “The kerchief had Blair’s name on it. I saw her with it in Edinburgh.”

The world around her dimmed as if she were under the placid waters of a loch frozen in time. Her ears hummed. Her heart ached, and her breath stopped. She tried to think back to the last time she’d seen her kerchief. It had been the morning Bruce had presented her with his ultimatum. He must have taken it. Tears, hot and wet, raced down her cheeks, but she was too shocked to wipe at them. Her shoulders trembled as fear took hold.

“Perhaps there is another explanation.” A voice barely penetrated the haze. Was it Brodie?

“Could she have been in league with the arse the whole time?”

Nae. She shook her head. Nae, that wasn’t true. But how could she prove her innocence, because she’d admitted to Bruce’s attempted blackmail.

“She is a traitor. When I came to visit, I caught her rifling through your desk.” Och. Was that Prudence?

Her world crashed around her. Instead of the jeers of her father’s men, she heard the mumbled voices of Finlay’s companions.

Everything she’d done to prove she could be more than just a wife had been for nothing. The deepest, darkest part of her swallowed her in a pain so deep her whole body went numb but also ached for what she had lost.

Her sister-in-law’s voice cut through her drowning misery. “Why did you marry the heretic?”

Why would the lass say such a thing? They were friends, sisters.

Silence followed, and she was about to burst into the room to defend herself, but Finlay’s voice cut through the air. “Because of ye two. The hell I went through as a child because ye couldnae see past that I was yer father’s bastard.”

No one responded. She felt herself tilting sideways, although her feet remained planted on the ground.

“I married her because a dead man’s seed grows in her belly, and I didn’t want that child to be treated the way ye treated me.”

Her hand fell to her flat abdomen. She wasn’t with child. Why would he think such a thing?

Now he thought her a traitor and believed she tricked him into marriage for the sake of a child. Henry’s babe. Bile rose to her throat and burned. He could set her aside. Leave her. Break her heart. The rending of something in her chest had her swaying as the world around fell out of focus. Did he not love her in return?

She choked on nothing but air. If Finlay set her aside, her father would chain her to Bruce and send her away with instructions to never let her come back. Her husband would never again hold her in his comforting arms.

Her knees buckled, but before she hit the ground, strong hands caught her waist. She glanced up to see warm, sad, hazel eyes. The Earl of Middlesbrough looked at her with what could have been regret and sorrow. She shook her head and pulled free then picked up her skirts and fled down the hall. She had to find a safe place to think, so she could face this once Finlay had calmed down. There was no use trying to defend herself in a room full of men who all thought her a harlot and traitor.

She just needed to breathe. The lavender fields.

Once she broke out into the yard and sought out the peace of the fragrant flower, she could finally draw air into her lungs again.

Finlay had married her because he’d thought she carried Henry’s bairn, which might have been the only thing that saved her from the fate he had planned. But she had no babe in her belly to prevent him from tossing her aside.

She was already branded a traitor. She wasn’t. But how could she prove it to men who never believed women and thought of them only as bedmates? And how could she prove to Finlay that he had become the most important part of her life? She could no longer imagine a world without her husband, and it would destroy her if he sent her away.

She continued on toward the lavender until a dark figure stepped from the bushes and stopped her in her tracks.

…

Finlay’s father cut into the room. He was all earl and commanded everyone’s attention without saying a word. He pinned Finlay with a fury he’d not seen since his father confronted his brothers about trying to get him kicked out of Oxford. He’d never thought to see his father that angry again and definitely didn’t expect it to be directed at him.

“Do you not have any feelings for your wife?”

Stunned, he didn’t know what to say.

“I haven’t seen a woman so upset since I told your mother I was pledged to another. She looked like her world had just ended.”

His mouth went dry as his pulse quickened. “What are ye talking about?”

“Blair. She was standing outside and heard everything you said.” His father pointed a finger at him. “That she was in league with a man named Bruce and that you had married her because she was with someone else’s child. Did she know that? Because it didn’t appear so.”

Coming from his father’s lips, it all sounded ridiculous. Blair had become his reason for being, and there was no mistaking the way she’d looked at him last night. She would never have done anything to harm him. The loss of blood and his brother’s presence were the only reasons for this madness. She would have a good explanation.

“I have to find Blair.” He couldn’t let her go on believing she didn’t matter to him. She was everything. He bolted for the door.

Rushing past his father, he dashed into the hall and looked both ways. She was gone. Turning back toward the earl, he yelled, “Which way did she go?”

“The kitchens.”

Blair was nowhere in sight, so he darted for the door. He held his hand above his eyes to shield it from the sun as he stumbled down the stairs. About thirty feet away, his wife stood facing Bruce Graham, who was ten feet from her. She was shaking her head and backing toward the house.

Bruce noticed Finlay and ran toward her. “Stop or I’ll kill him in front of ye, Blair.”

His wife froze. She swiveled to see him there, and he noticed sheer terror in her gaze. The arse made his way toward her as she hesitated.

“My lady, get away from him. I won’t let him hurt you again.” Jenny appeared from the direction of the stables. She rushed toward Bruce and Blair, a big stick in her hand.

“Stop,” Finlay yelled at the housekeeper, holding up a hand.

“That man assaulted her in the village.” The housekeeper pointed the club at Bruce.

“Bruce,” he called. “She is married to me. If ye go back to Scotland now, I’ll forgive yer trespass here.” If he reasoned with the man, perhaps he could talk him down. He could sense his family standing behind him, and their presence was reassuring.

“Nae. She’ll be coming back with me. I have no home to go back to without her.”

Bruce’s attention darted between everyone like a caged bird looking for escape. His clothes were dingy, and he’d lost weight and muscle since the last time Finlay had seen him. Desperation from his state of exile must be driving the man. He had to get Blair away.

“Is that why ye set the stables on fire last night? To get to Blair?”

“Nae. That wasnae me. ’Twas her and her friend.”

Finlay looked in the direction Bruce pointed.

Prudence? Her gaze darted between everyone as her calm demeanor flipped to that of a rabbit cornered by a dog.

Impossible. She was the most pious woman he knew.

“She was with the tall man. The one who came to see ye on yer first day back.”

“Mr. Gerrick?” Finlay assumed the man had left town.

“Aye. If that’s his name. I saw him start the fire while the lass snuck into the house.”

A scream rent the air when one of the new servants came out into the yard. His attention was pulled that way for only a second, but when he refocused on Bruce Graham, the man wore a wicked grin and had a pistol aimed at his heart.