Page 4 of Highland Heart

And left him there.

Chapter three

DUGALD

Dugald was furious. No matter what she thought of him, he refused to have Rosina and his daughter living in a hovel beyond the safety of the walls of Castle Tighe. He simply would not allow it.

The next morning he made arrangements with the castle guard to have the women moved into unused rooms in the castle itself. By the time they arrived, flustered and angry, their belongings bundled with them, the rooms had been cleared of the mess and made habitable.

Lord Tighe had kept his personal bodyguard in those rooms, the men who watched his back in case a knife was thrust into it. Ewen didn’t need a personal bodyguard. He had been greeted with relief by the people and he had his brothers and his own loyal band of men. Dugald had not asked his brother’s permission to make the change—he was still in bed with his new wife—but if there were problems he would talk to him. Ewen, he was sure, would agree with his judgment.

Now Rosina eyed him with those chilly grey eyes as he stood with his arms crossed. “We are not your business,” she told him in a low voice, with a glance toward her daughter. She stepped closer, and he saw that her face was pale and there were shadows under her eyes, while her dark hair was yet to be properly brushed and tidied. A sleepless night? He wondered if she had been thinking about him, and it seemed only fair because he had been thinking about her.

She believed he should have come to her before he left ten years ago. Perhaps she was right, but Dugald had been angry and bitter after their hand fasting had been overturned by the Laird of Tighe. The man had mocked them both, laughing at the fact that Dugald was sixteen and Rosina four years older. As if she had been cradle snatching, when in fact it had been Dugald who persuaded her to marry him.

“Stand beside me,” Dugald had begged her in a pain filled voice. “If we stand together they cannot split us, Rosina. Listen to me.”

She hadn’t even looked at him.

Instead of standing up to the laird and refusing to tear their union asunder, Rosina had agreed to everything her mother and the laird said. It was only at the end that she had looked at him.

“I shouldn’t have agreed,” she’d said, her mouth drawn down, that lush mouth he had kissed over and over. He’d remembered the helpless sounds she made when he was inside her. Dugald had known he was young, and she could never seem to see beyond that, but in his own mind he was a grown man. He had lived a man’s life and taken on a man’s responsibilities, and the number of years since his birth hadn’t meant a thing.

“Rosina,” he had said, and it was a demand.

She had seemed to be struggling to breathe and her voice broke, but there was no mistaking her meaning. “Go. I never want to see you again!”

He wondered now whether she had wanted him to seek her out despite her rejection. Had there been something he missed when he looked into her eyes? Some clue? If there had, he had been too full of his own anguish to notice. His heart had been breaking. He’d turned from her and walked away, and that had been the last time he saw her until he returned with Ewen to claim the castle and all within it.

Rosina must have been upset when she found that instead of being rid of him, she was bearing his child. She probably longed for him then ... or cursed him.

Dugald clenched his fists and ground his teeth. He would have stayed by her side, but she had made it clear that whatever had been between them was over. So when Ewen had come to his father and brothers, and told them what had happened when the laird found him and Elspit in her room ... They had no choice but to go or face the laird’s wrath, and Dugald had been relieved. He’d packed his few belongings and been out the door before the others.

Now he was beginning to wonder if he had been too hasty.

Rosina’s mother had not been a happy woman, and her dissatisfaction had spilled over onto her daughter. Nothing was ever good enough for her. Rosina was never good enough for her. And then to hand fast to Dugald Campbell, a boy without land or fortune, so far beneath what she considered was right and proper ...

Jeanette glared at him now, pulling Mary around behind her as if to shelter her from contamination. Rosina had turned her back and was filling the chest with clothing, not even bothering to fold it. They seemed to believe this was only a temporary measure, but Dugald was determined to keep them within the safety of the castle for as long as he could.

Mary peered around her grandmother’s shoulder at him. Her eyes were his eyes and for a moment it was like looking deep into his own soul. He felt a shift inside him. This was his daughter and he hadn’t seen Rosina swell with her, he hadn’t been there to share the joy and to comfort her during the travail of birth. He had been in the Duke of Arran’s household, and if he was honest, then he had been enjoying himself because he could.

The Laird of Tighe, and Rosina herself, had seen to it that their hand fasting was dissolved, and he was single again, and he had made the most of it.

Although, and it was something he rarely admitted, there had always been an emptiness inside him. A piece of his heart that was missing.

“Lord Ewen’s squire says you are the favourite of the Duke of Arran,” Mary’s voice brought him back to the room. “Of all the Campbell brothers he likes you best.”

Dugald smirked. “He does like me best.”

His daughter cocked her head to one side. She had a manner about her, as if she was far older than her years. Rosina had a similar manner, but Mary also had an air of assurance that Dugald suspected came from him.

“Why does he like you best?” she said

“Because I make him laugh.”

Mary thought about that and then nodded. “You have a nice smile,” she offered.

Her grandmother muttered something in a low voice and Rosina frowned. Suddenly Dugald had had enough. He pointed his finger at Rosina and said, “Come with me.”