Page 32 of Her Reluctant Highlander Husband

Dorie looked down at her palm where she’d felt the babe move. It was almost magical. She blinked and the feeling of wonder faded when she remembered she would never have that experience.

She’d gained an education during her time in the kitchen, and while she didn’t know all of it, she knew enough to be certain she’d never have a child if her husband refused to lie with her.

When she’d first slept next to him she thought it might happen, but then she learned he had to—

She closed her eyes, unwilling to think of such things, but longing for it all the same. That was yet another experience she’d never have. She remembered the trunk of memories in her room and felt the first stirrings of jealousy for a woman who no longer lived.

The sisters were still chatting away about babies when the dowager entered the room—the Dowager Duchess of Endsmere. Dorie had learned that Mari had once been a duchess, and the dowager was the mother of Mari’s late husband, who had moved to Scotland after her son’s death. The formidable older lady was now living at Dunardry with Mari and her second husband, Cam.

The dowager walked into the room carrying Mari’s daughter, Lizzy. Mari’s smile lit up the room upon seeing her daughter, and Dorie again felt a yearning as the child reached for her mother.

All the years Dorie had lived in that single room at the castle she’d remembered a fairy tale her mother had told her of a princess who’d been locked away until one day a handsome prince came to save her. They fell in love and lived happily ever after. But in all those stories her mother had told, she’d never said anything about the prince being disinterested enough to put the princess in a cottage and never come to see her again.

“What are you working on?” the dowager asked them.

“A third dress for Dorie. Won’t this look lovely with her coloring?” Mari pointed to the yellow fabric and settled Lizzy on what was left of her lap.

“It will.” The dowager inspected Dorie with her head cocked and Dorie felt the need to squirm—like what a worm must feel when in the gaze of a bird. “I suppose your brush was destroyed in the fire and that is why your hair is a trifle unkempt?”

Dorie knew from listening to the other women that the dowager had a hard edge but generally meant well. Something about living alone for so long had made her abrupt. Dorie had been told to ignore it, but her face burned with shame at the woman’s words. Dorie had done her best, using her fingers to sweep her hair back into a knot, but without a brush she wasn’t able to duplicate the smooth styles of the other women.

She’d appreciated Mari and Kenna’s help in fixing her hair the night before. She had hoped Bryce would find her to his liking and maybe he would grow to feel something for her.

Instead, he’d left.

She nodded in answer to the dowager’s question, unwilling to admit she’d not had such luxuries as a brush and comb even before the fire. The dowager was confident and intimidating. Doubtless, in this woman’s eyes Dorie would forever be found lacking.

Without a word the older woman spun out of the room.

“Don’t mind her,” Mari said quietly. “She doesn’t mean anything by it. Your hair is lovely.”

It was nice of Mari to say so, even if it wasn’t true.

Kenna, the more blatantly honest sister, nodded. “Your hair is lovely. It just needs a good brushing. Mayhap we’ll work on that when we’re done with this gown.”

Before she’d finished the sentence, the dowager was back and handed Dorie a beautiful brush and comb set, very much like the one she’d seen in the trunk in her room that had belonged to Bryce’s late wife.

She looked at the woman holding them out, not understanding.

“Take them. You may have these. I have another set.”

Dorie’s eyes went wide in surprise. She was being given these elegant things? Surely she must have misunderstood.

“Go on.” The dowager placed the comb and brush in Dorie’s hands.

Pointing to herself, she held them out, questioning.

“Yes. For you.” The dowager turned to Kenna and Mari. “It’s as if she’s never been given anything before.”

Small wonder. Because she hadn’t. Not until she’d met the generous people here in Dunardry.

Tears of gratitude welled in her eyes. Perhaps with these and the help of her new friends, she might be made pretty by the time her husband returned. And if so, maybe he would come to like her. Eventually.

In a flurry of excitement she hurried out of the room to go and find the perfect place for them in their chamber.

…

Rascal was sleeping next to Bryce when he woke on the last morning of his border patrol. The pup was a welcome sight, despite the stench of the animal’s breath. Bryce knew the beast would not have left Dorie’s side if she were in danger.