Page 36 of How to Woo a Highlander

“And what is it that possessed you to tell him such a thing?” he asked.

“I have fallen in love with someone else, father; he is the one that I want to marry, not William.” Before her father could speak again, she interjected quickly, “I know you will say that I should not neglect my duties, but do I not have a duty to make sure that I am happy?”

Her father looked dumbfounded, turning to Mary as though asking if she could make sense of what Jane was saying. The governess sighed.

“Jane, I already told you to forget about your infatuation to that promiscuous man, did I not? I hope that is not your reason for being so irrational,” Mary said, coming to stand beside her. Jane could see her father’s expression crumple in confusion.

“What promiscuous man do you speak of?” he asked.

“A young man who lives in the castle. He does nothing all day, but he has been friendly and welcoming to Jane, that is probably the source of her infatuation; it is nothing,” she explained dismissively.

Jane had never been so frustrated in her life. She brushed her hand through her hair and shut her eyes again, trying to keep herself from screaming.

“No, father, Mary has it wrong,” she began, but Mary interrupted her with a mocking laugh.

“Surely you can’t truly believe he is worth throwing away your father’s plans; he flirts even with the servants. Is that the man you want to marry?”

Jane held her hand out to stop her from speaking, truly angry.

“Stop! Mary, let me speak! I don’t care about how Lain lives his life, and although you have no right to judge how he lives, Lain is not the one I love. He never was. When you mistook my words to mean I was interested in him, I simply let it be, but the one I love is Alastair!” she announced.

Her father looked in equal parts furious, and in equal parts confused. Mary only raised her brows in realization.

“Alastair? Has he been friendly towards you? Although he is the one William entrusted with your care and entertainment…” the governess mused as though trying to understand Jane’s choice.

“Who is this, Alastair?” Her father asked, his hands on his hips, looking from Mary to Jane.

“Alastair is the best friend of the Laird, his second in command of sorts, I suppose,” Mary explained with a wave of her hand, still thinking.

“He is the one you saw just now when you were speaking to the Laird.” Jane said, stepping forward with a pleading look. “My heart beats for him, father. I do not want anyone if it’s not him.”

Her father looked furious. “Jane, I did not expect this from you, catching fancy to a man and deciding to throw away my decision for you. Now is not the time to be willful. We have already discussed this, and you agreed to it. Marriage to a Scottish Laird is the only way to bring balance to the Highlands. You must marry William.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again as hopelessness swallowed what little hope she had left.

“But father…” she cried, but he held his hand up, stopping her.

“That is final, Jane!” he thundered and walked out of the room. Mary simply gave her a sad look before following after him.

Left alone, she went to her bed, dropping herself onto it and curling up, hugging her pillow. How had things gone so wrong? If her father had not shown up, perhaps she would have had a chance to speak with Alastair and explain herself. If things had happened so, would it have been better? Would he have been any less angry?

If ye would dae anythin’ for me, Miss Baxendale, then it shouldnae be too much to ask ye to stay away from me. Forever.

His last words rang in her head and brought fresh tears to her eyes. He had called her Miss Baxendale. It hurt a lot more than expected, feeling like a hot knife straight to her heart. He had not called her that for so long that she had forgotten how cold it sounded coming from his lips. All the progress they had made was lost.

She remembered a conversation she had with him on one of their numerous visits to the villages. He had been lying beside her in the grass, a basket of his favorite pie between them. She had been busy admiring the sharp incline of his jaw and how his skin glowed in the sunlight when he turned to face her suddenly. Taken aback to be faced with his dark eyes, she had gasped and clutched at her chest, causing him to laugh and apologize.

“What?” she had asked when he continued to stare at her, and she became shy beneath his gaze, wondering if she had pie on her face. Instead, he had surprised her with his words.

“I dinnae trust people easily,” he said, “but somehow, I feel like I can trust ye.”

She had laughed nervously, her heart thumping and a blush crawling up her neck.

“Why?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“I dinnae ken if it is because ye have a face that is easy to trust, or if it is because ye always say what ye mean. A lot of people would consider ye foul-mouthed for how ye were always ready to lash out at me when we were at loggerheads, but I just think that it makes ye honest. Ye dinnae mince yer words.” He had spoken so honestly that it was clear that he was not trying to make a joke.

“I hope that I continue to be that honest then,” she had said lightly.