Later that week, as Duncan returned to Sheiling from Fletcher’s, he noticed a wagon ahead of him and a man appearing to study his horse’s leg. As he got closer he realized it was the big fisherman, Hamish. Hamish the Boat. Hamish the Fiancé, Duncan thought grimly.
He reined his mount alongside. “Got a problem?”
The fisherman squinted up at Duncan. “Aye, the mare threw a shoe. I’ve been a fisherman all me life and can do most anything on a boat, but never did learn how to shoe a horse, y’see.”
“You’re in luck,” Duncan answered, cracking his knuckles. “Horse shoeing is one of my specialties.” He dismounted and introduced himself. They shook hands and Duncan, who was not a small man by any means, felt as if his hand had been swallowed by the big man’s paw. “Aye,” said Hamish, “ye’re the one hopin’ to buy Izzy’s place, that right?”
Duncan squatted by the horse’s flank, grasped the animal’s back leg, and studied the hoof. “That’s the plan. There are obstacles, of course.”
The fisherman laughed his big laugh. “Aye, Izzy isn’t an easy one to persuade, no matter what the topic.”
Duncan pulled out his knife and cleaned out around the animal’s cuticle. “You managed to convince her to marry you.”
Hamish laughed again. “Don’t I wish! Can’t tell ye how many times I’ve asked and the lass has turned me down every time. Just asked her again last night and she still refused y’see. What made ye think we were engaged?”
“I guess I misheard some information.”
“Aye, that ye did.”
Duncan felt the man studying him. He glanced up, meeting Hamish’s gaze. “Tell me something about the boy, Ian. I’ve noticed how good you two are together.”
Hamish was quiet for so long, Duncan thought he wasn’t going to say anything. On a deep, rumbling sigh, Hamish replied, “That’s a long, complicated story, mate, one I sorta promised I wouldn’t tell. Sure ye want to hear it?”
Duncan stroked the mare’s flank. “Why not? Until the other day, I didn’t even know she had a son.”
Hamish cleared his throat, took out a pipe and smacked it a few times against the wagon, dislodging tobacco. “The lad is schooled off island. Comes home pretty often, but stays close to his mam. And to me, when I’m here.”
So Rosalyn had been right about that. Duncan continued to work on the mare’s hoof. “Sounds like you’re protecting him from something.”
Hamish let out a whoosh of air, seeming to have come to some conclusion. “I’m going to break a promise and tell ye a little story, mate.”
Duncan looked up, noting the fisherman stood with his feet wide apart and his beefy arms over his chest. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“There once was a sweet, naïve young thing,” the fisherman began, “who had been kept from the cruelties of the world, making her perhaps too gullible and trusting. She lived in a place that might have made other lassies promiscuous. But not this lass. She fell in love with a rascal of a fellow who swept her off her feet, took what was hers, planted a seed, and left her without a backward glance.”
Duncan chuckled at the set up and brushed off the mare’s hoof, letting the animal put her foot on the ground. “Except for the seed planting, it sounds a lot like me.”
Hamish studied him a while, and then said, “’Tis.”
At first, Duncan didn’t understand. “What? Wait. I thought her husband was killed before the boy was born.”
“Aye, that’s the story all right,” Hamish answered.
“Well, which is it?” Duncan’s heart was banging against his ribs.
“’Tis the story made up before Ian was born. The lad had to be told something, and the truth was not what any lad would want to hear. And people around here loved Isobel; whatever story she and her aunt concocted was good enough for them. They may believe her story or they may not. ’Tis been nine years since the lad came into this world. Ye were gone,” he said with emphasis. “She was safe to tell her own story, y’see.”
Duncan’s ears rang. “How does she know it’s mine?” The minute the words were out, he could have kicked himself.
Hamish gave him a scornful look. “I told you that Izzy was never a loose lassie, sir. And if ye look carefully at the boy, ye might see some things that are familiar.”
Isobel. The virgin. The mother of his child? How could he not have noticed? Duncan was thunderstruck. He staggered, leaned against the wagon, and rubbed his hands over his face.
“I promised Izzy I wouldn’t say anything to ye, but being a man whose da ran off and left his family of his own free will, I didn’t think it was fair for ye not to know what ye left behind when ye sailed away, y’see.”
Duncan shook his head in disbelief. “And I thought she was aloof because I’m trying to buy the building she’s so attached to.”
“Aye, that too. Ye got the double whammy.”
Duncan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; either way, his eyes welled up. Hamish clamped a paw on Duncan’s shoulder, dragging him from his musing. “Well mate, what are ye going to do with this information?”
Duncan was still processing the news. “The boy thinks I’m dead?”
“Well, not ye, personally, but the image of the man who supposedly wed his mam.”
Duncan heard the contempt in the fisherman’s voice. “I was an arrogant son of a bitch when I lived here ten years ago. I’ve regretted my behavior countless times since then.” His thoughts turned to the castle.
“Why wasn’t my family notified? Surely they wouldn’t have let her carry the burden all by herself.”
“’Twas no burden to Izzy, mate. And you’d best talk to her about those details; I’ve done enough damage.” He turned to leave, then added, “Izzy’s biggest fear is someone from your family learning his parentage, and Ian being taken away from her. Now ye’re here; she has the same fears, y’see. Money is a powerful weapon; ye have it, she does not. At any rate, she’ll probably take a broom to me arse when she learns what I’ve done because I sorta gave her me word I wouldn’t tell ye.”
Hamish bent to check the mare’s hoof. “She’ll be all right until I get her to the smithy?”
Duncan nodded absently and wasn’t even aware when Hamish and his wagon began lumbering on toward Sheiling.
• • •
Isobel and Lily folded laundry in the small room off Isobel’s bedroom. It had once been Paula’s suite, so there was a nice tub, filled with bubbly water just waiting for Isobel. There was also a rather large mirror over the dry sink. A square table was tucked into a corner, making it the perfect place to fold and stack clothing and bedding.
“These dish towels look like they’re ready for the rag man’s pickup,” Isobel announced, frowning at the condition of the cloths. “And look at these drawers! The ties are so tangled it’ll take me a week to untangle them.”
Lily picked up the drawers. “I don’t know how ye can wash everything in the same water.”
“I’ve been doing it for years, my dear, and nothing has happened to me yet.”
Lily picked up the pile of underthings. “As I was growing up, we were constantly on the move, rarely staying in one place for long. My parents were field workers; when the work was done, we left. The roads were dusty and dirty, and by the end of a single day, we were all filthy. So we washed. Often. We bathed upriver from where the underwear was washed.”
“Why?” asked Isobel, remembering her first glimpse of Lily.
“Because it covered the dirty part of our bodies,” she answered, as if that would make perfect sense to Isobel. Then she gave Isobel a mystified look. “I suppose ’tis different when you stay in one place all the time, ye don’t get as dirty, but still, I will never be able to wash all of my clothing in the same tub.” She nodded at the clothing she had picked up. “Here, let me take them downstairs. I have some work to do in the great room. I can get these untangled and folded and put away.”
Relieved, Isobel stretched her back and yawned. She had been up since four in the morning, fussing and stewing about things over which she had no control. And she’d been in the garden today and felt grimy. Earlier she’d asked Henry to bring up some hot water so she could bathe; she hoped she didn’t fall asleep in the tub.
After tossing her clothes onto a chair by the door and pinning her hair high on top of her head, Isobel stepped into the tub and audibly sighed as she sank into the now lukewarm, sudsy water. She must have drifted off, because she was awakened by the sound of her name being shouted in the hallway. Before she had a chance to react, Duncan MacNeil, the lord from hell, barged into her private bath. And stood there. And stared. She sank deeper into the water, hoping to salvage some of her dignity. “Get out of here, ye big ass!” Heat raced through her; she flushed red all over.
• • •
Duncan was rooted to the floor; his feet wouldn’t listen to his brain telling them to move. Isobel was exquisite. Heat from the water had curled her tendrils even tighter around her face, and her cheeks, neck, and chest, were pink and glowing.
“Get out!”
Finally he shook himself. “Well, now that I have you defenseless, I want some answers.” He continued to gaze at her chest, now and then seeing a perky pink nipple pop through the suds.
“Didn’t you hear me? You shouldn’t be in here, by all that’s holy,” she huffed, her arms crossed over her chest, hiding anything he might wish to see. “Please leave…Your Lordship.”
He ignored her. “When in the hell were you going to tell me we have a son?”
She gasped, seeming prepared to sit up but remembering where she was. Her chest heaved. “We don’t have a son,” she said, her voice rigid. “I have a son.”
He smirked at her. “It takes two, I believe.”
“Ocht, yes. I forgot your part; seduction and deflower; sweet talk and retreat. The perfect romance.” Her voice was filled with scorn.
Duncan cringed. “I admit to being a jackass, all right? I admit I was a wild kid who had no boundaries. I took what I wanted when I wanted it. I admit what I did to you was wrong, but if I had known—”
“Ye would have stayed to make an honest woman of me?” she interrupted, her face a mask of mock anticipation.
Duncan had the decency to look away. “No. I don’t know. At the very least I would have seen that you were properly taken care of.”
“I was taken care of by my aunt, good and proper, who had birthed babies before I was even born. I was in good hands, thank you very much.” She sank lower into the water, a scowl on her face.
He couldn’t stop the questions that slammed against his brain. “Even if you’d needed money, my family—”
“No,” she interrupted again. “Don’t talk to me about your family. We had already been there. Aunt Paula insisted we face the duke and tell him what happened.”
Duncan couldn’t imagine anyone turning her away. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Did you speak with Rosalyn? My brother?”
Isobel shook her head. “An old man, perhaps a valet or butler. I don’t know. All I know is that we were told the family was on holiday and we weren’t the first to try to extract money from them, and he promptly slammed the door in our faces.”
“But later…” He didn’t even know how to finish.
“Later, when I thought there might be some resemblance to you, I was afraid your family would take him away from me. After all, he was born and lived in a brothel, for God’s sake. The landed gentry on this island could have had him removed from my care. They could have taken him to live at the castle and he would have eventually forgotten me.” She pressed her lips together as though to keep them from trembling. “And if that happened, I couldn’t bear to look at him and not even have him recognize me.” She glanced away, innocently offering Duncan a view of her lovely profile. Her nose was pert and her lips generous. She had a smooth neck, despite the scar, and her shoulders were feminine.
“My family isn’t like that,” he murmured, suddenly aware of her vulnerability.
She swiftly turned her gaze back to his, her eyes glistening with tears. “But how was I to know? My first experience with them was not exactly a positive one.” She began to shiver.
Duncan swore. He reached for a large towel and motioned her out of the tub.
Her teeth chattered; she hugged her chest. “Ye must think I’m crazy.”
“Isobel,” he scolded softly, “please get out of the tub before you catch a chill.”
Resignation showed on her face. “The least you can do is close your eyes.”
He did as he was told and felt her step into the towel, then he wrapped it around her and brought her close to his chest. Surprisingly, she didn’t resist.
“Isobel, Isobel,” he crooned, enjoying the feeling of her body against his. “So the late Mr. Dunbar doesn’t exist.”
“Nae,” she answered. “It always seemed like a reasonable story; only now does it sound ridiculous.”
“I’m glad there was never a husband, Izzy, real or not.” He glanced into the mirror in front of them and looked at her. “You have freckles across your nose. I hadn’t noticed them before.”
“Aye, it was dark, or don’t ye remember?”
“Oh, I remember. I offered you a swig from my flask and you tried bravely to act as if you drank the stuff every day.” He chuckled against her hair, drew in a breath and smelled jasmine. “You sputtered and coughed, but took another sip just to prove you weren’t some innocent virgin, wandering around in the woods alone.”
“Aye,” she said, giving him a small grin in the mirror. “But that’s what I was.”
He ran his fingers over her bare arm, noting with delight that his touch created gooseflesh on her skin. “I discovered that, didn’t I?”
“Aye.” Her voice was almost a whisper. In the mirror, he could see that she’d closed her eyes and that the pulse beat hard against the hollow of her neck.
“We are quite a pair, aren’t we?” His gaze lingered on her face, pink and healthy, her neck, glowing from the bath, her body, naked under the towel. Desire rose inside him. He nuzzled her ear, her soft curls tickling his nose, and without a thought blew gently into her ear.
She suddenly pulled away and grabbed the towel, wrapping it tightly around her. “You still have a way of ruining the mood. Now you can leave, like you did the last time.”
He deserved that. “We haven’t resolved the issue, Isobel. Our son thinks his father is dead. I’m very much alive and I’m not going anywhere.”
She snugged the towel even tighter and gave him an angry glare. “And how do I know that? I don’t even know you. You could try to sweet talk me into sharing the news with my son, and then, fast as you please, leave again and never return. Or worse, take him with you. Do you realize what that would do to all of us?”
Duncan rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll admit my track record isn’t good, Isobel, but I’m not a cad. I have a son, and I want to get to know him. I would like to be a part of his life.”
She frowned and studied him. “Who told ye about the boy?”
“I met Hamish on the road; his horse had thrown a shoe.”
“Well, a pox on Hamish! A lot of good it did to tell him to keep his mouth shut.”
Duncan couldn’t stop looking at this Isobel, this partially clothed woman he had deflowered ten years before. She was angry and she was beautiful and once, just once, she had been his. “I’ll be grateful to him for the rest of my life,” he said quietly.
Isobel studied him. “I’m probably a wee bit insane, but I’ll give ye a chance. You’ll have to give me a little time. I can’t just blurt it out.”
“I want to be there when you tell him,” Duncan insisted.
She muttered something and then said, “I should have let Hamish adopt Ian years ago.”
Anger flared in Duncan’s gut. “That is not going to happen. Ever. I don’t care if you marry the gorilla. No one is going to be that boy’s father but me.”
Isobel tilted her head and looked at him, her eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t care if I married Hamish? Because he’s asked me every time he visits and now with your royal approval, I suppose I might as well say yes.”
The thought stung Duncan. He had blurted out the words without thinking. No, he didn’t want her to marry anyone and take Ian away. That left one solution, but he couldn’t quite form the words. “I would imagine that if you haven’t agreed to wed him yet, you won’t. Just…don’t make any hasty decisions.” With that, and against his better judgment, he stormed from the room.
• • •
Isobel sagged into a nearby chair. Blight on Hamish! She should have known he couldn’t keep quiet about such a thing when it had bothered him so as a bairn. But did she really believe he wouldn’t? Did she, somehow, hope he would tell Duncan about Ian?
Lily poked her head around the door. “Are you all right? I just saw His Lordship stomp out of here. I swear there was smoke coming out of his ears.”
Isobel grabbed her robe, slipped into it and tied the sash around her waist. “Hamish told him he is Ian’s da.”
Lily gasped. “And after he vowed he wouldn’t. What happened?”
Isobel sat at her vanity and tried to comb out her hair, noting with some disgust that her hands shook. She tossed the comb on the table. “Truth to tell, I don’t exactly know. By the saints, he’s already taken possession of Ian and the lad still doesn’t know Lord MacNeil is his da.”
“It’s a tangled web, that’s for certain.”
Isobel studied her fair-haired teacher. “Don’t you ever wonder about your life before you were found?”
Lily spoke pensively. “I have, of course. But what good does it do? I was raised by a kind, if unusual family, they cared for me the best they knew how, they fed me and clothed me. Travelers are stern parents, Isobel, although to look at them one wouldn’t think so.”
“Stern? Did they beat you?” Isobel always wondered about the Travelers’ family life, for she had seen many wagons of them come through Sheiling from time to time. The children seemed wild and the men dangerous and the women dark and mysterious.
“Oh, no,” Lily responded. “They didn’t punish that way. But they expected their children to do what they were told. Except for me,” she said with a soft smile. “I was the ugly duckling they plucked from the river. They let me do as I pleased, and oddly, I had this desire to learn and read and my questions were so annoying, sometimes I think they rued they day they saved me.” Her smile remained soft. “I think they were as grateful to be rid of me as I was to go on my own way.”
“You came here from Ayr, didn’t you?”
“Aye, not so far away, but when you’re alone without means of transportation, it might as well be the moon.” The water had drained and Lily wiped down the tub. “After I left my family, I found the position with the elderly rector and his wife, who reveled in teaching me things and answering all my questions.”
“They did a wonderful job. But you called yourself an ugly duckling earlier. You’re hardly that.”
Lily dipped her head. “Perhaps not, but I was the odd one, to be sure. My brother and his friends were dark, their eyes so brown they were nearly black. They preened and pranced around, trying to impress all the girls, even me.” She stopped wiping down the tub for a moment and her eyes misted over. “Except Stefan.”
“Stefan?”
“Stefan was a throwaway child, like I was. I mean, his mum had been taken against her will by some lofty gentry person, and she refused to raise the boy. So, my mum and papa took him in, just like they did me.”
Isobel tilted her head and studied Lily. “You care for him.”
Flustered, Lily quickly finished wiping the tub and folded the towel over the edge. “Nae, it wasn’t like that. Actually, they all frightened me more than anything. My sister, Kizzy, began to fill out into a woman overnight it seemed. She was…very curvy. She wore low-cut blouses to show off her, you know, cleavage. And mind you, it was abundant.” Lily refolded the damp towel and replaced it again. “We weren’t close. Kizzy and her friends were eager to grow up, eager to catch some boy’s eye. They dressed very provocatively, always hoping that the boys would notice them. They thought they were ready to marry the first boy they were attracted to. And they were encouraged by their parents.
“But they knew nothing of marriage. They weren’t even allowed to kiss a boy until he asked her to marry him.” She looked off into the distance. “There was something exotic about my family, and to an outsider I imagine they seemed dangerous, just because of the way they looked.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Before I left, Kizzy was sweet on some fellow. I wonder if she’s married by now. Even though I was raised in the same household, my brain wouldn’t surrender to their ways of thinking.”
“Was Stefan expected to do the same?”
Lily shook her head, her gaze focused once again on something far away. “Nae, Stefan could do anything he pleased,” she answered, her voice soft.
“Do you miss them?”
Lily’s expression became thoughtful. “It’s strange. I never really felt loved. Oh, I was well cared for, but my mum was a bit distant with me as I grew up, like she didn’t know what to do with me. I think we were all content when I decided to leave.”
Just then Fifi bounded into the room, tail wagging, tongue hanging over the side of her teeth. She ran to Lily, who picked her up off the floor. “Have you been in trouble again? Has Delilah chased you from the kitchen? You’re lucky she doesn’t have a cage built for you so she can put you away when you’re a naughty pup.”
“How long have you had Fifi?” Isobel asked.
Lily nuzzled the pup’s furry neck. “I found her when I was living with the rector. I guess I rescued her just like I was rescued, but I couldn’t bear to lose her; she’s become such a treasure to me. I hope Delilah doesn’t truly mind Fifi’s antics.”
“Delilah is a pussy cat in truth and we both know it.” There was clomping on the stairs, and moments later Delilah stormed into the room.
“There’s that rapscallion! Do ye know what she did? Do ye?” Delilah’s fists were on her ample hips and her bounteous bosom moved as she spoke. Her dark eyes blazed.
Lily flinched. “Oh, dear.” She clutched the pup to her and it peered over her shoulder at the Amazon, apparently thankful to be in a safe spot.
“She dug up them newly planted rose bushes we worked so hard on just this morning,” she said. She shook her finger at the dog. “If ye weren’t so bloody scrawny, I’d cook ye up for supper.”
Delilah threw both women glances that were warmer than her words. “I guess I can put a wire fence around the flowers.” With that, she stomped off, but not before Fifi yipped at her.
• • •
Duncan’s ride to the castle was swift. He left his mount at the stable and ran into the building, shoving the door open so hard it banged against the wall, startling Rosalyn, who was placing fresh flowers in a vase on a table by the stairway.
“Duncan? What’s—”
“Where’s Fletcher?” he interrupted, immediately sorry for being so brusque.
“He’s in the library with Geddes.” Her answer was cautious as she studied him. “What’s wrong?”
He strode to the library door and yanked it open. “Come in here and find out.”
The two men inside glanced up, appearing surprised at the interruption. “Duncan?” Fletcher’s face was guarded. Geddes reacted more slowly, carefully placing some papers back into a file.
Duncan was so upset he hardly knew how to begin. “I have a son.” He nearly choked on the words, not from despair but from disbelief.
Behind him, Rosalyn gasped and before him, both men stood in unison.
“Tell me what’s happened,” Fletcher ordered. “You can’t be sure—”
“Damn it, Fletcher, I’m not a kid any longer. Don’t tell me what I can or cannot be sure of.”
Fletcher appeared at odds. “Well, then, let’s hear it.”
Rosalyn entered behind Duncan and closed the door. She took a seat by the fireplace, her face creased with worry, her hands clasped in her lap.
Duncan paced and began his story. When he had finished, everyone was silent.
Rosalyn spoke first. “We were never notified of such an event,” she recalled, her voice quavering. “I suppose it was Barnaby who took the message…” Her voice trailed off, because even back then Barnaby was a bit addled. “But why didn’t they stop back when they could speak with someone from the family?”
“They were told that they weren’t the first to try to blackmail the family by some means or other. Knowing Isobel as I do now, I imagine both she and her aunt wouldn’t be humiliated twice.”
“But they wouldn’t have been,” Rosalyn urged.
“How would they know that?”
“What do we do now?” Fletcher asked.
“We do nothing,” Duncan answered. “I need to sort this all out myself. Isobel is a very proud woman. If she senses any push from this house, she’s liable to ship the boy off with the fisherman, just to keep him out of my clutches. She’s already threatened to let the giant adopt him.”
Rosalyn’s hands flew to her mouth. “She wouldn’t, would she? I mean, I’ve met her several times and she’s a fine young woman. Hardworking, honest…” She glanced at the men. “Now that I think about it, she never let me get too close to her…”
“Now you know why.” Duncan stood before her, arms crossed over his chest.
“There could be a legal way to handle this,” Geddes spoke.
Duncan reared up. “Don’t you think that’s just what she’s afraid of? That’s why she did nothing after the initial attempt. She knows we have the power and the money to do whatever we want to. Hell, it wouldn’t take much to convince a judge to let us have the boy; after all, he was raised in a brothel.”
Rosalyn sagged against the back of the chair. “Oh, dear.”
Fletcher came around the desk. “So let me understand this,” he began, his hands clasped together behind his back as he strolled the room. “Once the boy was born, she was reluctant to let us know about it for fear that we’d take him away from her. She concocted a story about a husband and father to the boy, who has believed, all these years, that his father is dead. Now she’s threatening to let some big red-haired goon adopt him and whisk him away to sea just to keep him away from you?”
“I know it sounds bad, but I truly believe they are empty threats. She’s so damned mad at me on so many levels; she’s bound to say anything to get my dander up.”
“Have you seen the boy? What’s his name?”
Ian’s face, smiling, handsome and happy, floated before him. “His name is Ian.”
“Ian. I like that. Does he look like you?” Rosalyn’s voice became soft and wistful.
“If he had, I might have noticed the likeness earlier, but I didn’t even when I saw him up close. Now, though, although his hair is a riot of reddish brown curls, I can see myself in his eyes and his mouth, maybe the cut of his cheekbones. And damned if he doesn’t have the same dimple in his cheek.”
“He doesn’t know about you?” Geddes asked.
“No. He still believes his father died in an accident with his horse.”
Rosalyn let out another gasp. “Well, he has to be told. How will the poor laddie feel about being lied to all these years?”
“Isobel has that same concern,” Duncan answered. “I told her I had to be with her with she told him the truth.”
After a quiet moment, Fletcher said, “I guess we shouldn’t be surprised you left a part of yourself behind. After all, I think you bedded most of the lassies on the island.”
Duncan winced. “You don’t have to remind me what a selfish bastard I was back then. I’ve often wondered if I was being punished for it.”
The three of them studied him.
Rosalyn stood, went to Duncan, and put her arm around his waist. “The God I love doesn’t punish people by taking away their happiness even if they’ve caused someone else pain in the past.”
At that moment Duncan knew that any involvement he had with his son in the future would also involve this family. He also knew he had to tread lightly, softly, and feared that even then his son might not want to believe the truth.