The Heir

Chapter Thirty-seven

With his wedding fast approaching, Duncan was finding it almost impossible to talk to anyone at Summers Glade without snapping at them, so he made an effort to avoid the remaining guests as much as possible. Fortunately, he was no longer the "main attraction" and thus didn't need to be in constant attendance anymore. This let him escape, which was how he saw it, for long periods each day, without causing too much comment about it when he returned.

His grandfathers, the both of them, pretty much left him alone now. They had what they wanted—a bride, though neither seemed all that happy with the one he'd ended up with. Perhaps they found it as galling as he did, that she was the very last woman he would have chosen—if he had had a choice.

He had never felt so trapped, and despondent, in his life. Not even finding out that he had to come to England to live with a grandfather he didn't know, or care to know, had affected him this adversely. That had enraged him. This having to marry a woman he didn't even like, and knew he never would, was eating him up inside with hopelessness.

He needed cheering. He needed Sabrina. But he was beginning to think he'd never see her again, and that was adding greatly to his misery.

He was afraid he'd lost her friendship, that she was deliberately avoiding him because she despised him now. And he couldn't even blame her. He'd taken advantage of her when she was greatly upset and most likely not thinking clearly. In reflection, she could hate him now for that. Worse, he'd gone from making love to her to getting engaged to another woman. He couldn't imagine what she thought about

that, but it couldn't be to his good. Yet he'd been unable to explain—because she wouldn't see him.

He'd gone to her house, he'd left notes. He'd been told she was indisposed, which could mean any number of things, including simply "go away." And though she was reputed to enjoy walking so much mat she took long walks every day, sometimes twice a day, he hadn't found her once out in the countryside. And he'd certainly tried to come across her. He traversed the road to Oxbow more than once each day, passing by Cottage by the Bow. He sat for hours on the hill where he first met her, hoping she'd take that path again. But not once did he see her, even from a distance.

And then there she was, walking down the road far ahead of him, the winter wind whipping at her hair, bundled up in her thick coat, which hid her nicely rounded curves. He set his horse into a gallop to reach her. He kicked up dust when he did. He wanted to draw her into his arms and never let go of her, yet he found himself shouting down at her instead, all his frustration and worry and dread pouring out at her.

"You're oout in this cold when you've been sick? Or have you no' really been sick? Why the devil would you no' see me when I came tae call on you?"

She gave him a strange look. She opened her mouth to reply, closed it, opened it again, closed it yet again, tightly this time, and walked on. Walked on?

He stared after her incredulously. But it gave him a moment to realize just how accusing he had sounded, and that anyone, even someone as carefree and effervescent as Sabrina was, or usually was, might take offense at it.

He sighed and cantered after her. "Wait up, lass." She didn't. "At least talk tae me." She stopped, said simply, "We shouldn't be seen talking together, Duncan." "Why?"

"You're engaged now. You have no business calling on other women—or detaining them on the road. If witnessed, it might give the wrong impression and get back to Ophelia, and we wouldn't want that, would we?"

She walked away again, which infuriated him enough that he overlooked the bitterness he'd just heard in her tone. "Bedamned what she thinks," he growled. "I'll call on my friends if I choose tae, or are we nae longer friends?"

That brought her marching back, but only to say, "Ophelia won't allow you to have women friends, Duncan, or aren't you aware of how jealous she is, or the bile she can spew because of it?"

"Is that what happened that night tae upset you? She turned her vicious tongue on you?"

She sighed at that point. "Not really. I was upset because I lost my own temper with her and stooped to her level of nastiness. That just isn’t me, and I was appalled that I let my own tongue run away with me."

Sabrina lost her temper? He couldn't imagine it either, but he sure would have liked to see it. On second thought, no, he wouldn't. This stiff reservation she was showing him right now was bad enough, and he didn't like it one bit.

He dismounted and came to stand in front of her. "At least your outburst had nae dire consequences, lass. Try losing your temper and having it ruin the rest o' your life."

He said it so forlornly that she would have had to be completely indifferent to him not to ask, "Ruined how? What did you do?"

"I was angry that you had been upset enough tae send you running pell-mell oout into the night. That it happened after you talked tae Ophelia told me the cause for it."

"But she wasn't really why I was so upset. Her subtle insults don't usually bother me. It was my own behavior that shocked me."

"Aye, but you wouldna say what had occurred when I asked you that night," he reminded her. "And by the time I returned tae Summers Glade, I was determined tae get the answer from the source. My anger built when I couldna find her. When I did finally locate her, I didna care that it was in an inappropriate place."

"Where?"

"Her bedroom."

There were a dozen things that Sabrina could have said just then to lessen the impact of what she was hearing, but all that came out was, "Oh."

"E'en that would have made nae difference if someone hadna come upon us there." "Who?"

"Mavis Newbolt is her name. Ophelia claimed this lass hates her and would relish spreading the tale. My only hope is that isna so. But the lass has taken herself off and canna be found tae verify whether or no' she would make a scandal o' where she found us."

"Are you saying this is why you're engaged to Ophelia again?"

"Why else, lass?" he said. "You dinna think I want tae marry her?"

"And this occurred after you... took me home?"

"Aye."

Sabrina glanced away from him. He heard what sounded suspiciously like a growl, but coming from her, doubted it. When she looked at him again, a long moment later, she was without expression and her tone was matter-of-fact.

"Ophelia lies about many things, but how Mavis feels about her isn't one of them. She brought it on herself, though. They used to be friends, but only just recently had a falling out. It happened at Summers Glade, actually, but the result was, Ophelia tried her hardest to blacken Mavis's name."

"How well d'you know this Mavis? Would she want tae get back at Ophelia, e'en if it meant hurting someone else tae do it?"

"I'm sorry, Duncan, but I don't know her well enough to say. I liked her. She seemed quite nice—at

least when she wasn't around Ophelia. When she was, she became rather catty and snide in her remarks. But then Ophelia seems to have that effect on a lot of people, bringing out the worst in them. It's an amazing quality, that."

"Nae, what's amazing is that it would be assumed that I compromised her, merely because o' where we were seen t'gether, when I've ne'er touched her. And there doesna seem tae be any way tae get oout o' marrying her, unless ..."

"Unless?"

He turned around, wondering why he'd even thought of it, much less mentioned it, when it would be indirectly using her just to save himself. Not that the outcome wouldn't be infinitely more desirable, but it would still be taking advantage of her—again.

"Never mind," he mumbled. " 'Twas a wayward thought best left unsaid."

"I would think you would want to explore every option—if you really don't want to marry her."

She'd said it rather stiffly, which had him turning back to her and countering defensively, "You dinna think I have? It stands oout plainly in my mind that I havena really compromised her, but I have compromised you. If I should be forced tae marry anyone, it should be you—och, that didna sound the way I meant it."

Her voice went from stiff to much stiffer, even though she allowed, "However you meant it, it's not an option, Duncan, because it wouldn't alter the fact that Ophelia would be ruined if it gets out that you were in her bedroom alone with her. Doesn't matter that you've never touched her. A scandal is just that, and I know firsthand how detrimental one can be. Perception is everything where scandal is concerned, with truth and fact having little to do with it. And much as I have come to not like Ophelia, I will not be a party to her ruination, indirectly or otherwise."

She walked off yet again after that. Duncan didn't try to stop her this time. The uplift in spirits he had hoped to get from an encounter with her hadn't occurred. If anything, he felt worse now. That she had seemed as down in spirits as he was the cause.