“That is a right description, Your Grace,” Mari agreed. “But she is the most wonderful person imaginable. She told me once that when she reaches the end of her days, she will have no regrets, for she will have lived fully.” Mari let out a breath, missing her sister dearly.
“Would that we could all live in such a way. But some of us have obligations. Duties to fulfill.”
“Surely you don’t still feel obligated to the Endsmere name?” Cam asked, no doubt insulting her yet again. “’Tis not even a real person, but merely a title. What has it ever done for ye?”
The dowager turned the little red bird over in her fingers. “It’s not just a title. It’s my very existence.”
“He didn’t mean to say—” Mari began.
“No, I heard him clearly. And he’s right. When I’m gone, I’ll be but a portrait in the gallery, whereas your sister will be talked about for ages as the woman who faced down the English army and invited them for tea.”
Mari smiled at the story she’d just told. The observation was true enough.
“There’s still time to create some fine stories about your own life,” Cam offered the dowager. “In fact, we’re doing so right now. They’ll all tell tales of the brave dowager duchess who was forced to spend her holiday with a Scottish war chief.”
If Mari didn’t know better, she might have thought the sound that came from the dowager was a laugh. It was a dry, rusty kind of sound. But the dowager rarely laughed, and when she did, it was never from joy or humor.
“Just so,” she said, and cleared her throat before calling out for Parkes.
Mari expected the dowager wanted to return to her room and required assistance, but instead she remained seated as she doled out an order to the butler. “Bring it in now. Hurry along,” she snapped.
The man left, and a moment later he returned carrying something bulky. It was placed on the floor at Mari’s feet.
Suddenly, she realized what it was. A gasp left her as she gazed misty-eyed at the beautifully scrolled wood curving into the legs of a cradle. A large M had been carved into the headpiece.
Even Cam made a sound of surprise.
“It is indeed lovely. Thank you for such a perfect gift,” Cam said. He must have realized Mari couldn’t yet find words.
This was beyond anything the dowager had done for Mari in the past. It wasn’t an heirloom brought down from the attic and brushed off. It was new and must have been ordered weeks ago.
“It’s nothing more than a necessity.” The dowager brushed off her generosity. “The child must have a place to sleep.”
Mari went to her and offered a stiff hug. The woman patted her shoulder but didn’t give more than that tiny bit of affection.
Mari had always thought the woman a frigid person, but now she could see there was more to her below the icy layer she’d created…most likely to protect herself from the truth of her son’s evil.
“Thank you, Mother. It’s wonderful.”
The dowager opened her mouth, likely to scold Mari for calling her Mother, but she closed it instead and gave a stern nod. “I’ll be off to bed now. It’s been a tiring day.” She stood stiffly on her still-healing foot and shuffled toward the door, where she paused. “Thank you for including me.”
Before they could respond, she was out the door.
…
Cam hadn’t ever expected to spend the holidays in London, but if he couldn’t be at home, he’d be wherever Mari was and like it just fine.
They’d had a joyful holiday, but he found himself missing Dunardry. Not the castle, but the people in it. One person in particular especially weighed on his mind over the months as winter turned into spring.
He didn’t know how he would get on with Lach when he returned. Perhaps after Cam ran away, Lach wouldn’t even be willing to take him back. Kenna wouldn’t allow her husband to cast out her niece or nephew, so he knew when he returned with the babe, he’d be granted access.
But would Cam be able to look on Lach as a friend after what he’d done?
“A letter has arrived for you, sir,” Parkes announced, and delivered a sealed letter to him with a bow.
Cam still wasn’t accustomed to the fuss and was about to tell the man to stop bowing when he noticed the seal on the missive.
Lachlan.
Rather than open it, he set it to the side to focus on his meal.
“Who’s it from?” Mari inquired, rubbing her large stomach, where their child grew.
Since he’d been at Blackley House, he’d not received any correspondence other than the locket from Kenna, so it was natural she’d be curious. Mail was such a rare thing. It was always shared with others unless it was truly to be kept private. But Cam didn’t want to share whatever words the letter held.
“No one.”
Her frown spoke of her disappointment. “But you’ll read it before you dash it into the fire?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“What if someone is ill?” She gasped in distress. “What if it’s one of the boys—or Kenna?”
“Bugger,” he grumbled while snatching up the letter and breaking the seal. He’d not be able to finish his meal now until he knew for certain his family was in good health.
Dear Cam,
I hope this letter finds ye well. Kenna shared the news of the babe, and I send my heartfelt wishes of happiness to you. Fatherhood is a great blessing. Ye shall make a fine father. My boys love you, and I know your child will as well.
I must warn you, the rest of this letter will be nothing more than a groveling mess. For I’ve no clue as to how to ask for your forgiveness when I don’t deserve such a thing.
However, I must also say that I wasn’t wrong. I know this is a sorry way to start an apology. I acted as a laird, and in that, I did what was best for my clan. But I should have also acted as a friend and brother, for that is what you are to me. At the time I wasn’t sure how to unite the two, and I didn’t see any way to be both the laird and your friend when faced with the options I was given.
I also acted as a brother-in-law to Mari. I’ll not put all the blame on her shoulders, for I was the one who honored her request when I needn’t have. But when I put myself in her place, I knew I would have done exactly the same thing she’d asked.
What I neglected to do was put myself in your place, for I know if I had, I would have kept trying to come up with another plan.
I failed you, and for that I feel this whole letter and asking for forgiveness will be in vain.