"Nay, you're right."
"What of the Stanbury Estate?"
"'Tisentailed. Thankfully, Claybourne cannot get his paws on it.'Tisheld in trust for Jamie when he comes of age. But there is little in the castle beyond the trestle tables.'Tismostly an empty shell. All the furnishings which were not entailed were sold to pay Claybourne. Of course, the crofters remain on the lands and that is the only money going into the estate.Stanbury'sbrother-in-law manages it for Jamie." She knew her former staff members had a difficult time finding work, though she'd tried to help them as best she could. But she could not perform miracles and hold it all together.
"'Tisa tragedy," Rebbie said. "But at least you and your son are safe."
She nodded. "Aye, thank the saints for that. And thank you as well. If you hadn't come along, Claybourne would've made off with me. It makes me sick to even imagine what he had in mind." Nausea consuming her, she shook her head. "He claims Stanbury wagered me also, once he ran out of funds."
Rebbie shot from his chair. "'Slud! Surely not."
Startled byRebbie'saggressive movement, she drew back a step, but then calmed herself. His anger was not directed at her. "I know not. Stanbury certainly never told me that. 'Haps Claybourne made it up. But Stanbury was fond of whisky. And the more he gambled, the more he drank. So, I can easily imagine him making such a drunken wager." It wouldn't surprise her, for he hadn't cared as much about her as he had his favorite horse or even the sheep of the field.
Through clenched teeth, Rebbie muttered a scathing curse, then paced from the fireplace to the door and back again. "He is not worthy of being called a man. Such a bastard is lower than a worm."
Her watery eyes burned anew, for no one had ever risen to her defense so vehemently. Though she felt unworthy, she appreciated it… appreciated him more than she could even comprehend.
"How could he care so little for his own wife?" Rebbie muttered. "The mother of his child. And why would he risk his son's future like that?"
"I know not. He was not a reasonable man."
"Obviously, he was mad as a ravening wolf," he grumbled.
Rebbie couldn't believe what a pathetic bastard she'd been married to. The man had best be glad he was dead, for if he were alive, Rebbie would call him out. 'Twouldnot be the first dual he'd fought. And he was deadly accurate with a pistol.
Damnation, but Calla deserved so much better than she'd ever received. Both her father and her husband had treated her no better than a stray mutt who'd happened to slink in the door of their esteemed homes. God, how he wanted to give her something right now, something to show her how amazing and beautiful she was, but he knew not what. In the dim firelight, she looked like a lost angel, fallen to earth, with her long blond curls cascading over her shoulders. He could scarce breathe, seeing her like this, all disheveled and vulnerable.
When he'd held her against him, her tears had near broken his heart. At the same time, her light weight upon his lap had sent hot, sweet arousal flowing through his veins. And if he didn't leave her now, he feared what he'd give her was something she didn't want or need. Besides, hadn't she been taken advantage of enough by her damnable husband and the whoreson, Claybourne?
Annoyed beyond reason, he shook his head. "Well, I will let you get some sleep. I'm certain you're exhausted." He forced himself to head toward the door, instead of pulling her back into his arms as he wanted. "Rest assured that I will protect you from that lunatic Claybourne."
"I thank you, Laird Rebbinglen."
He turned back. "Rebbie, please."
"Rebbie," she repeated, her voice soft. 'Haps his eyes were playing tricks on him, but her glance through the dimness appeared to beckon to him, her silvery-gray eyes tinted dark as twilight. Aye, she'd seduced him once simply by laying her hand upon his, letting him know without words what she wished. If she did that again, he'd be hard-pressed to saynay.
But she didn't. She remained where she was.
Something about her was very different than it had been all those years ago. It wasn't only that she was a curvaceous woman now, but 'twas something deeper that compelled him and appealed to him even more than before.
He nodded. "I bid you goodnight."
"Goodnight."
"Bar the door after I leave. I don't trust MacFadden."
"Very well."
Rebbie stepped out the door and closed it behind him. He inhaled the chillier air of the dark corridor, hoping it would cool his lust. No such luck. He headed toward the chamber he'd claimed for himself, the laird's chamber, since he'd removed MacFadden from it.
He was sparing the man no quarter. He would again try to take over if he allowed him to keep the laird's chamber. He'd had the housekeeper tell the maids to clean it out and change the sheets.
Stepping into the chamber, he noted it smelled fresh and a warm fire burned in the hearth. He paced before it, remembering how lovely Calla was in the firelight, her honey-gold hair gleaming. He'd yearned to kiss her, but he feared he could not stop with only a kiss. And with that bed nearby… damn! He feared he'd not be able to control his actions unless she told himnay. And he didn't think she would.
Besides that, the betrothal to Lady Elena was still in force and legal. He had no intention of marrying the girl, but he had to make sure the engagement was a thing of the past before he became intimate with Calla again… if she was interested.
Though she was a woman full-grown, Calla still had the endearing and naïve habit of displaying her emotions clearly upon her face and in her expressive eyes. Given the heated way she'd looked at him, and the indulgent way she'd kissed him the night before, she was drawn to him. But he didn't know if he could resist her until all the other problems were solved.
