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“Papa!” She went to hug him, but he did not even lift his stare to her.
She stalled midway.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Catriona.” The crumpled brow said enough.
Not that he had been an effusive father. Far from that. But he always had a tender word for her. They shared their love for the Highlands, and this had made them close despite his constant travelling.
This open rejection saddened her more than she would like to admit. But she swallowed it for now. More pressing matters took precedence.
Fingal did not like the way his father-in-law was treating his wife one bit. Naturally, no one would ever understand fully the relationship of a parent with their child. They went back years and years with all the happiness and mistakes such an amount of time implied. Nonetheless, Catriona must have missed him after this long time away. And the old goat did not have a positive word for her, in spite of the situation.
“First, there’s the fact you used your second name,” he started.
Alright, so Fingal could not disagree with the man in this particular issue.
She clasped her hands in front of her tensely, thick lashes lowering. “I admit it was a mistake.” She then looked directly at the surrounding faces. “I hope you all forgive me.”
Everyone’s nod granted her wish.
“Second, you lowered yourself to a servant’s level and accepted employment,” he threw. “You, a lady from one of the most prestigious families in Scotland.” His tone and stance did not hide his disgust.
The pompous wretch! Fingal cursed. He surveyed his kin and saw they possessed the same opinion, though they listened in silence.
Before his very eyes, she transformed into the amazon he knew her for, spine straightening, chin elevating, eyes burning on her parent. “I’m sorry, but I cannot apologise for that. Anyone will tell you how successful Fingal and I were with the poor horse.”
“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he retorted. “It gave him the chance to debauch you!”
Fury mushroomed in him. That he had antique views, Fingal could understand, but insulting his own daughter would not be tolerated. “This is my wife you’re addressing.” His low voice aired contained.
“You bastard!” Lachlan fumed and advanced towards the McTavish for a good thrashing, no doubt.
Freya’s eyes widened, and she made to intervene.
Never taking her eyes from her sire, Catriona lifted a hand to stay Lachlan. If possible, she became even straighter, more in possession of herself. Regal. “You never gave me a choice, so I took it into my hands.”
At her words, Fingal neared and posted right behind his wife, his taut arm going around her in a sign of protection. She put her hand on it in acknowledgement.
Drostan exchanged a glance with his father. Lachlan looked disgusted wit
h their display while Aileen seemed surprised.
“You were destined to English nobility,” he spat.
“I never wanted a feeble sod,” she flung.
“You tell Tremaine that and bear the consequences.” The older man paused for a second. “The shame you’re putting us through.”
Oh, there lay the crux of the matter: his self-importance, Fingal took note.
“Your misplaced pride counts for nothing here,” Drostan intervened. “In the McKendrick, nobody gives a penny for those useless dandies.”
Angus eyed the McKendrick as if he had just fled a madhouse. “Several of those dandies are Catriona’s relatives, with a Duke for a grand-uncle.” The boast fell on deaf ears.
“I’m shaking in my boots,” Taran McDougal derided.
Her father turned to her. “You should have talked to me before you married him.” He pointed behind her. “Why did you do it in such haste?”
“Because if any hint of a scandal came out, Anna would get the brunt of it,” she answered promptly.
