“Why did you not ask her about it?”
He shook his head. “Because I was afraid of what she would say,” he admitted, his eyes wide as he stared at her. “I know I should have. I even knew it then, but I couldna. I knew I should’ve released her from her promise, but I couldna. I wanted her more than life itself, and once she had agreed to marry me, I couldna risk losing her no matter what.” Closing his eyes, Brogan shook his head. “I am weak, and now, Fiona has to pay for my weakness.”
Stepping forward, Henrietta gently placed a hand on his arm.
Instantly, his eyes snapped open, and he stared at her as though shocked that he had just now shared his darkest secret with her, a foreigner, a stranger, a woman. Embarrassed, he averted his eyes and stepping back cleared his throat.
“You’re not weak,” Henrietta said. “You were in love, and that made you vulnerable. It is a risk, and I’ve spent my whole life thinking that it is not worth it.” A soft smile came to her lips. “But recently, I’ve come to believe that I might be wrong. I haven’t quite shaken off the ties of my past yet. I will need more time, but I am determined to rid myself of them and be happy. Truly happy.”
Holding her gaze, Brogan nodded, a hint of hope glistening in his tear-brimmed eyes. “More than anything, I wish for Fiona to be happy.”
“Then find out the truth,” Henrietta counselled. “It is the only way. If you ignore what lives in your heart and your mind, you’ll be trapped in this maze forever. As will she, without even knowing why.”
His hands balled into fists, Brogan nodded. “Ye’re right,” he whispered, astonishment shining in his eyes as he looked at her. “Thank ye, my lady.”
Touched at his words, Henrietta smiled. “Thank you for trusting me. I’m used to people seeing me as the enemy.” As she blinked, a tear rolled down her cheek. “This is new to me,” she admitted, then took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “With your permission, I’ll call in my husband and ask him to send for Reid Brunwood so that we can lay this to rest before the sun sets on this day, and we can all lay down our heads tonight with a clear conscience.”
When Brogan nodded, Henrietta turned to the door, but stopped when he called, “My lady?” As she turned back and met his eyes, he inclined his head to her. “I was wrong. Yer husband did choose wisely.”
Feeling new tears threaten, Henrietta simply smiled at him in gratitude.
Chapter Thirty-Two − Out of Love
Pacing the hallway outside his study, Connor thought he would go mad. More than once, he was tempted to listen at the door, but then called himself back at the last moment.
When the door finally did open and his wife stepped out, her eyes red-rimmed, he was ready to strangle Brogan Brunwood without a moment’s hesitation. His wife, however, stepped in his way, and as her eyes found his, he felt his hammering pulse finally calm down. Reaching for her hands, he pulled her close. “Are ye all right, Lass?” he whispered, and his gaze was drawn to the small tear that spilled over and ran down her cheek. “What did he say to ye?” he growled, ready to storm past her.
“He confided in me,” his wife whispered, pride and joy ringing in her voice, and Connor’s eyes snapped back to meet hers. “As hard as it was for him, he told me the truth.” Sadness began to cloud her eyes as she spoke. “His story is like mine. Like me, he has demons that haunt him. Will you help us defeat them?”
Seeing determination and strength glow in her eyes, Connor nodded. “Of course, Lass. I’m yers to command,” he chuckled, and the smile that lit up her face melted his heart.
“I need you to send for Reid Brunwood,” she said. “There is a matter they need to discuss. If it turns out the way I think, the way I hope, then I am certain Brogan will give his consent.”
Frowning, Connor stared at her. “I’m surprised, and yet, I know I shouldn’t be for I’ve always known, from the moment ye first snapped at me, that ye’re capable of great things.”
An embarrassed blush coloured her cheeks, and she averted her eyes.
In that moment, all Connor wanted was to wrap her in his arms and carry her upstairs to their bedchamber. It took him all the strength he had to release her hands, find his clerk and have him send for Reid Brunwood. Maybe once this issue was resolved, he would finally have some time alone with his wife.
Fortunately, his clerk as well as Reid Brunwood were located quickly, and not even a half hour later, Connor found himself back in his study, his wife by his side. While Brogan looked emotionally exhausted, Reid glanced from one to the other, clearly confused by the change in attitude his childhood friend had undergone.
“We asked ye here again,” Connor began, his eyes meeting Reid’s, “because we have come to believe that the anger between the two of ye stems from a…misunderstanding twenty years ago.” From what his wife had told him, Connor could only hope that her instincts had not deceived her.
Reid frowned. “A misunderstanding?” He turned to Brogan. “What misunderstanding?”
With his jaw clenched, Brogan took a slow breath, and Connor could see how much effort it cost him to remain calm. “It’s about Ainsley,” he forced out through gritted teeth, his hands balling into fists.
“Ainsley?” Reid’s eyes went wide, and he swallowed, a shadow of the past falling over his face. Glancing from Brogan to Connor, he cleared his throat. “What about her?”
Staring at Reid, Brogan tensed even more, his eyes narrowing. “He looks guilty,” he snarled under his breath before he stepped forward, anger burning in his eyes.
“Wait!” Before Connor could even move a muscle, his wife stepped forward. Gently placing her hand on Brogan’s arm, she searched his eyes. “I beg you. Do not jump to conclusions. Allow me to speak to him.”
As the sinews on his fists began to stand out white, Brogan met her gaze. With his lips pressed into a thin line, he nodded, then took a step back, forcing air into his lungs.
Turning around, Henrietta met Reid’s bewildered look as he glanced back and forth between all three of them. “You do not understand,” she mumbled, a hint of relief on her face.
Reid shook his head. “I do not. He said I looked guilty. What is he accusing me of?” For a moment, his eyes travelled to the floor before he forced them back up.
“Twenty years ago,” Henrietta began, “both of you asked for Ainsley’s hand in marriage.”
Reid nodded. “As did many others.”
Henrietta nodded, a soft smile on her face. “So I’ve heard.” Taking a step closer, she held Reid’s gaze, her eyes slightly narrowed. “And she made her choice. Ainsley chose Brogan.”
Reid swallowed, and his lips thinned. “She did.” He took a deep breath. “Is that what he his accusing me of? Even after twenty years? That I cared for the woman who became his wife?” Shaking his head, he looked at Brogan. “Is that the reason ye refuse to give yer consent?”
Anger still in his eyes, Brogan opened his mouth.
However, once again, Henrietta interfered. “It is not your regard for Ainsley that has haunted him these past twenty years,” she began, a hint of red tinging her cheeks, “but his belief that you are his daughter’s father.”
Eyes trained on Reid, Connor waited, his breath stuck in his throat, and he was not disappointed.
As soon as the words had left Henrietta’s lips, Reid’s face fell open. His jaw dropped. His eyes widened and became as round as plates while all colour left his cheeks.
For a moment, Connor thought he would faint on the spot.
“His daughter’s fa−? What?” Reid stammered. Then he turned to Brogan, bewilderment clear on his face. “Why would ye believe that? Ye were my friend. I wouldna have done such a thing.” He swallowed. “I admit even after she had announced her decision, I tried to change her mind, but I would never have betrayed ye in such a way. Believe me, I never laid a hand on her. Fiona canna be my daughter for I never touched Ainsley.”
A hint of relief came to Brogan’s eyes, and yet, doubt remained as he glared at h
is childhood friend. “I saw ye,” he forced out through gritted teeth. “The night of the festival, I saw ye. Ye met her in the shadows of the wall, away from prying eyes. I saw ye whispering and…”
Rubbing his hands over his face, Reid shook his head. “I did meet her, aye, but only to speak to her. As I said, I tried to convince her to choose me instead.” Lifting his hands in honest regret, Reid took a careful step forward. “I’m sorry to have gone behind yer back, but…I couldna imagine my life without her. I was desperate, and I did what I shouldna have.”
Reaching for his wife’s hand, Connor watched as Brogan’s tense shoulders began to relax and his fists uncurled. The older man took a deep breath, and yet, his eyes remained narrowed slits.
“But I…” Brogan swallowed, and Connor could read indecision on his face, unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. “She touched ye,” the older man finally said. “She stepped closer and put her hand on yer arm. She whispered to ye.”
Reid nodded. “She did, but only to tell me that she loved ye.” Sadness and loss fell over Reid’s face with such an intensity that Connor felt the sudden need to steady the man. “No matter what I said, I couldna sway her. She spoke kindly to me though and whispered words of encouragement because I was yer friend. She didna wish for me to be sad because she didna wish for ye to be sad. What she did for me she did because of ye.”
Staring at Reid, Brogan swallowed as tears began to brim in his eyes. “I didna know,” he whispered. “I thought…and then when Fiona was born early, I was certain that…” He shook his head, his jaw trembling with the sudden onslaught of emotions. “I didna know.”
“As much as it pains me to say it,” Reid choked out, “Ainsley loved ye, ye alone, and Fiona is yer daughter.” Taking yet another step toward his old friend, Reid held out his hand. “But I would be honoured to call her my daughter-in-law, Brother.”
Eyes shining with a new-found peace of mind, Brogan grabbed his friend’s hand, nodding his head vigorously. “And I shall be honoured to call Liam my son-in-law.”
Still holding his wife’s hand, Connor turned to her, awe shining in his eyes as he looked down at her tear-streaked face. “Ye’re an amazing woman,” he whispered as she sagged into his arms, all strength leaving her body after the emotional upheaval of the past few days. “Ye saw what no one else did, and ye did not only secure a happily-ever-after for two young newly-weds, but ye also brought two old friends together who had been separated by a misunderstanding twenty years ago.” Skimming a hand over her cheek, he smiled. “I don’t mean for it to sound condescending, but I’m proud of ye.”
Smiling, his wife closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder while Connor held her close, knowing how lucky he was to be married to the woman he loved. While Reid had lost Ainsley to another man, Brogan, too, had lost the woman who held his heart to this day long ago. It was a crippling fate, and Connor could see its aftershocks on the two men’s faces as they embraced for the first time in twenty years. They would never get Ainsley back; she was lost to them forever, but the future still held promise.
Chapter Thirty-Three − Suspicions
When they walked out into the rose garden later that afternoon, Liam and Fiona met them with solemn faces, which instantly changed when they beheld the expressions in their fathers’ eyes. Joy swept them into each other’s arms, and tears of happiness streamed down their faces.
“Thank ye so much,” Fiona sobbed, embracing Henrietta again and again. “I knew if anyone could help, it’d be ye.”
Looking slightly uncomfortable with all the attention, Henrietta dropped her eyes to the ground, mumbling something unintelligible before ushering the overjoyed bride back into her husband’s arms. The newly-weds’ fathers thanked her as well, if slightly less exuberantly, but in the end it was Brogan’s courteous nod that brought fresh tears to her eyes.
Stunned himself, Connor watched as the older man inclined his head, his eyes shining with deference and respect. Standing beside him, her arm securely tucked in the crook of his own, Henrietta took a slow breath and a slight tremble shook her slender frame as she, too, gave a courteous nod of the head, answering Brogan’s silent message with her own.
“Ye’re one of a kind,” Connor whispered, and turning to face him, his wife raised her eyes to his. “Not too long ago, ye yerself were trapped in a web of past fears and doubts, and now, ye use yer gained wisdom with such ease that I find myself speechless.”
A mischievous grin lifted the corners of her lips. “For someone who claims to be speechless, you ramble on quite a bit.”
Connor laughed. “Ye’re a smart woman, Lass, and an honest one. I will have need of yer counsel in the future.” Pulling her closer, he held her eyes as his own grew serious. “I need ye, Lass, as does the clan. Ye belong here. This is yer home, and we are yer people, yer family. I need ye to know that.”
Taking a slow breath, his wife swallowed. “I do feel at home here. I never thought I would, and yet, there is still a part of me that wants to leave,” Connor inhaled sharply, “and find a place where I can be who I am.”
He opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she stopped him.
“I know what you think,” his wife said, “and you’re right. A lot has changed since I’ve faced my past. However, at my core, I still am who I’ve always been.” As though in apology she shrugged her shoulders. “Men may not generally be bad, but the world we live in favours them greatly and gives them power and control over women.” She shook her head, a disgusted snarl curling her lips. “I wish things could be different, and I’m not certain if I can ever be truly happy as long as this imbalance exists.”
Connor sighed, wishing that things could indeed be simple. “Change has always come slowly,” he said, holding her hands tightly in his, “and always at a high price. If ye truly want the world to change, Lass, then ye’ll have to be the one to change it.” He smiled at her. “As ye’ve changed mine. Are ye willing to fight for it?”
***
In celebration of the newly-weds, a spontaneous festival was held in the courtyard that night, and for the first time, Henrietta did not feel as though she did not belong. As not only Liam and Fiona but also Reid and Brogan sang hymns of praise of her for reuniting them, people began to look at her with different eyes. Slowly the last remnants of their mistrust vanished and were replaced by open curiosity and the desire to get to know her. That night, Henrietta laughed and chatted with people she had barely spoken a word to before.
“I’m incredibly proud of ye,” Rhona beamed, wrapping her in a tight embrace, “and I hope ye can forgive an old woman’s meddling.”
“Meddling?” Henrietta asked, glancing from Rhona to Moira and Deidre.
Rhona sighed, a mischievous grin on her wrinkled face. “After all, it was me who sent Connor after ye that night. Otherwise, he wouldna have found ye.”
Henrietta laughed. “Morag said you would.”
“That old tattletale,” Rhona grumbled, winking an eye at her before laughing out loud. “I’m glad to see ye smile. It suits ye, and it makes my son smile as well.”
Glancing at her husband, Henrietta bit her lower lip when she caught his gaze.
“Do not be embarrassed,” Deidre chided before her own eyes travelled over to Alastair where he stood speaking to Connor. “They affect us as much as we affect them, or at least that is the way it oughta be.”
“Ye’re wise for someone so young,” Rhona mused. “If only I had been back then.” Then she chuckled and shook her head. “Now, go and dance with yer husbands.”
Deidre immediately set off as though pulled to Alastair’s side by an invisible bond. Henrietta remained behind and hugged her mother-in-law. “Thank you for all your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Oh, don’t ye thank me, Child,” Rhona chided. “We’re all so happy to have ye here with us; are we not, Moira?”
“Certainly,” the young woman agreed, her eyes, however, lacked the enth
usiasm Rhona’s held. “I was truly impressed with how ye reunited Reid and Brogan. I never thought that possible.”
“Thank you,” Henrietta said, her own words a mild echo of the insincerity she’d detected in Moira’s, and she couldn’t help but wonder at what point things had changed between them.
“Good evening, fair ladies,” Connor greeted them, an exuberant smile on his face. “Would ye care to join us on the dance floor?” Pointing behind himself, he glanced at Alastair and Deidre, just now standing up with other couples, Fiona and Liam among them, to dance the night away. “It promises to be a fine evening.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Henrietta saw Moira take a step forward, her face aglow, when her features suddenly froze. Clearing her throat, Moira blinked before the polite smile was back on her face, and she nodded to Connor good-naturedly, “Go ahead, dear Cousin, and dance with yer wife.”
“Aye, by all means,” Rhona chimed in, giving Henrietta a soft push so that she stumbled forward into Connor’s arms. “Do not mind us unmarried women.”
Laughing, Henrietta allowed her husband to escort her to the central area in the courtyard used for dancing that night. However, looking back, she found Moira’s eyes on her and thought her initial impression confirmed.
Maybe out of habit, Moira had thought that Connor had wanted to ask her, his cousin, to dance. Had Moira also thought that he would marry her? Had she wanted him to? Or had she merely expected him to because of tradition?
As her husband led her into the dance, Henrietta’s mind was occupied with the contrasting glances she had caught of Moira, and deep down an old fear re-awakened, whispering a warning and reminding her that some people did have hidden agendas and did not openly display their true sentiments. Although Henrietta had come to realise that she had been rather obsessed in her distrust of people, she had to admit that at least a healthy dose of distrust was wise.