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She was silent for a long beat. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“I was, back in Canada. My wife died there.”
She pressed a sympathetic hand to his arm. “Forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said brusquely.
“Yes, but—”
“You haven’t answered my question. Why did you hike off and join a convent? That must not have gone down well with your family.”
“You have a talent for understatement.”
Logan waited her out.
She finally shrugged. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter if I tell you. Most people know the story, anyway.”
“I’m always lamentably behind when it comes to gossip.”
“This old gossip goes back thirteen years, now.”
“You decided to join a convent thirteen years ago? Good God.”
“No, that’s when Alasdair ran away from home rather than allow Uncle Riddick to announce our betrothal to the clan.”
Logan’s hand froze on her foot. “Alec Gilbride, heir to the Earldom of Riddick. Your cousin.”
“Correct.”
“You were supposed to marry him?”
“Correct.”
He stared at her before bursting into laughter.
“It was anything but amusing,” she said with offended dignity.
“Sorry for laughing, lass. It’s just the idea of you and Alec Gilbride married.” Alec was as brash and irreverent as she was dignified and modest.
“Alasdair felt the same, obviously, since he stayed away for ten years.”
When she ducked her head, blushing, Logan mentally winced. For some reason, the next words were hard to say. “Did you love him very much?”
She glanced up, clearly surprised. “I was only fifteen years old. We were mildly fond of each other in the way cousins are, but our families made the match. They were set on a formal betrothal and marriage a year later.”
He reached for a length of clean flannel. “Clan business, I reckon.”
“Isn’t it always? My parents and the Haddon clan chieftain were greatly in favor of the match, as was Uncle Riddick. The strengthening of clan bonds . . . that sort of thing.”
“I know it well. But why didn’t the two of you simply refuse?”
“Ye were gone from Scotland too long, ye ken,” she replied in a sarcastic brogue.
“I know very well that family and clan can be a royal pain, but no one can force you to marry. Not these days, anyway. And I refuse to believe that a man as forward-thinking as your uncle—despite his reverence for tradition—would pressure you to do such a thing.”
He had trouble imagining how anyone could force Donella to do anything against her will, despite her quiet ways.
“I promised my father that I would marry Alasdair,” she said, as if that explained everything. She hesitated for a few moments. “When Papa was on his deathbed, he asked me to promise that I would marry Alasdair when he returned to Scotland. The fact that it took him ten years to come home did not mitigate my obligation.”
