Cathy Maxwell - [Chattan Curse 03] (16 page)

“What?” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“I will reject it,” she assured him. “I know what you must do and you should know I don’t consider you accountable for what happened between us last night.”

“You have churned everything over in that mind of yours, haven’t you?” he said.

“I just know what is coming and I don’t want you to say the words. I don’t want to embarrass you by refusing you.”

He sat on the end of the desk, his expression one of confused disbelief. “Maggie, what are you talking about?”

“You,” she said. “I’m explaining to
you
that you don’t need to offer to marry me. I will not accept your proposal.”

“Well, that is comforting,” he replied. “Are you also going to share with me
why
you will refuse this offer I have not made yet?”

She had expected him to be angry. Instead, he sounded more bemused.

And then she realized she really had no reason to withhold the truth. Heath would not betray her trust as others would. If anything, he probably knew her secret.

“I can’t accept your offer,” she said, a tightness forming in her chest. She kept her chin up. “Because you have not compromised me in any form. I am
not
a virgin.”

There it was. The truth.

She discovered it a bit freeing to confess aloud her shame and she braced herself for his censure.

Instead, he answered, “I’m not, either.”

Margaret frowned. Perhaps he didn’t understand?

“No one expects you to be pure,” she said. “You are male.”

“Oh,” he said as if with sudden understanding. “You were saying that to make me jealous—”

“I was not
. Why would saying something like that make you jealous?”

“Well, because I like you,” he replied, as if it should be obvious. “But if you didn’t say it to make me jealous, perhaps then you were saying it so that I didn’t feel alone. I appreciate that,” he announced, coming to his feet as if she’d done something clever. “I was feeling as if I was surrounded by virgins. It is difficult being the only one who is not one. Then again, Dara is not a virgin,” he continued, as if weighing the merits of the matter, “that is, if my brother did his duty. And I certainly hope my sisters are because that is what brothers
should
think, no?”

His cavalier attitude was not what she had expected. “Are you mocking me?”

“Yes, I am,” he said.

“I don’t like that.”

“I didn’t believe you would,” he answered. His manner grew serious. “However, perhaps it is about time someone took you off your high horse. You aren’t the only one involved in what happened between us last night.”

But Margaret’s temper, the one she tried carefully to control, took off. “I’ll have you know, sir, that I feared this day when I would feel the need to admit my terrible secret. In my mind, the receiver of such news would castigate me before shunning my presence. I didn’t imagine he would think this a
jest
.”

“Jest? Yes!” he said with a touch of his own displeasure. “I didn’t have you pegged as someone who would walk off as if
I
meant nothing.”

Her anger evaporated. “I didn’t walk off.”

“Yes, you did,” he said. “When I returned for you, you were gone and your leaving didn’t have anything to do with the boat arriving, did it? This was all some grand scheme in your mind where you were the tragic heroine and I was what? The actor in a small part who is of no importance? Or is this the way you react whenever anyone grows too close to you? We were very close last night, Maggie. And it
was
important. It
was
meaningful.”

For second, Margaret was tempted to storm out of the room—but she didn’t . . . because he was right.

What happened between them had been important, but couldn’t he understand what she was trying to explain? And why it should be important to him, the most amazing man she’d ever met?

“You don’t recognize what I am saying to you,” she said. “In London, there are those who, if they ever found out what I’d done, would ruin me. Society has long memories and unforgiving natures. I’ve trusted you with information I’ve not told another soul. But also,” she continued, “
you
need to know that I’m not special. I’m not important. You must not see me as someone I’m not.”

Heath moved toward her until they stood almost toe to toe. “What I see is a woman who loves her brothers and her family honor enough to battle demons for them,” he said. “I don’t know the story of your deflowering, and I don’t want to,” he hurried to add. “I’m no saint, Maggie. I can be jealous, but I’m also not the king of France. Purity is not my first consideration for a wife. You see what my sons stand to inherit. Marybone is a sad thing right now but it certainly doesn’t call for the sacrifice of a virgin. What I don’t want is for you to act ashamed of what happened between us last night, because I’m not. I have no regrets.”

He took a step closer to her. “Don’t run from me, Maggie. Don’t ever run from me.”

Margaret had spent years carefully constructing walls around her heart. They started to crumble in the face of his honesty.

“I didn’t run. I was helping you. Heath, you don’t understand the burden of the curse. I’m the first female of my line. We don’t know what will happen with me, with my children. They could carry the curse. Of course, you don’t believe in the curse.”

“I might surprise you,” he said soberly. “This morning I woke to find a wee cat with folded-over ears staring at us.”

“You saw Owl
? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You weren’t there when I returned, remember? And I did more than ‘see’ the cat. I touched her. I felt her fur. She wanted me to chase her.”

“So that is where you went. Where did she take you?”

“Back to the graves. My intention was to capture her and bring her back to you so that you could see she was real and not a ghost. But when I reached to pick her up, my hands went right through her.”

“That’s not happened before,” Margaret said. “I’ve always been able to hold her.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t like men?” Heath suggested.

“Or perhaps she isn’t going to be with us much longer.” Margaret walked a few steps past him, thinking furiously. “If she is the reincarnated soul of Rose Macnachtan, then it may be she must return to where she belongs.”

“Why would you believe her to be Rose?” he asked. “Could she not be Fenella?”

Margaret considered the matter a moment and then shook her head. “Fenella would not help us. You heard that man Swepston. Those who believe in the curse think the Chattans should remain afflicted until the end of time. But what if Rose is trying to help us?”

“Then you don’t want her to disappear.”

“Exactly.”

He held up his hands and took a step away. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”

“I can’t believe you saw the cat,” she said. “No one else has seen her save for Harry and . . .” She paused. “His wife first saw the cat. Before Harry did.” She frowned at Heath. “Why do you think Owl has revealed herself to you?”

Before he could answer, there was knock on the door. “We are not to be disturbed,” he barked.

Dara’s voice said, “I must disturb you, Heath. Owen Campbell is here. He said it is urgent he speaks to you.”

Heath’s whole manner changed. Tension straightened his shoulders. His brows came together. “What the devil is he doing here?”

“Who is
he
?” Margaret asked.

“Someone I don’t want to talk to,” Heath answered.

“And yet you must?”

“And yet I must,” he agreed, his expression grim. He opened the door where Dara waited for him. “Where is he?”

“In the sitting room. Is something the matter, Heath?”

He didn’t answer Dara but turned to Margaret. “We will finish this conversation. And by the by, you may be the first female in your line, but I’m the last male. Perhaps that means something.” He took off with a purposeful step down the hall.

Dara peeked into the library. “What was that about?”

Margaret ignored Dara’s question, asking instead, “Who is this Owen Campbell?”

“He’s a relative of the Duke of Argyll,” Dara said. “I know he’s interested in purchasing Marybone.”

Margaret looked around the cozy library. She liked this house. Yes, parts of the building and most of the furnishings were shabby, but it had good bones and a comfortable air. “Will Heath sell?”

“He may have no choice,” Dara answered with a distracted air. “Excuse me, I must go and find out what I can.” She left.

Margaret stood a moment, and then decided she might want to know more about why Owen Campbell was calling as well.

She waited a few beats, and then followed Dara down the hall. She found Dara with Laren and Anice huddled on the staircase, out of the line of sight of the sitting room but close enough to hear everything.

Margaret joined them.

Chapter Fourteen

O
wen Campbell fancied himself of the Corinthian set. He was a handsome, lean man ten years Heath’s elder. He wore his graying hair in the windswept style, a silly affectation where the hair was combed forward over the brow and ears as if a great wind blew it from behind. The style also hid Campbell’s growing baldness.

Heath didn’t trust a man who spent a goodly amount of time thinking about his hair. Yes, all the young bucks in London were vain but there came an age when a man put a comb through his hair in the morning and didn’t think of it the rest of the day.

Campbell’s hair wasn’t his only pretension. He sported a spur on one highly polished boot just for show. Heath had noticed that single spur even in church. No true horsemen would ride around with
one
spur. He’d be riding in circles.

It stood without saying that Campbell’s clothes were finely tailored and definitely from London. His greatcoat had no fewer than seven capes, and it must have taken a bevy of tailors to style his breeches just right so that the padding used to fill out Campbell’s manly form would not be noticed.

The man had built his fortune with the East India Company. Heath had met a number of nabobs during his naval career and there wasn’t one whose greed didn’t turn his stomach.

Campbell stood by the fire and as Heath walked into the room, he swept back his elegant coat, placing one gloved hand on his hip as if posing for his portrait. Heath could even imagine the title, “Corinthian Visiting Lowly Country Laird.” Campbell’s hat was on small table by the door and Heath was determined to put it in his hand and direct him out onto the front step as quickly as possible.

He had a conversation to finish with Margaret, and she was far more entertaining and interesting than Campbell.

Campbell smiled his greeting while giving Heath’s rough appearance a critical once-over. “Good of you to see me, Laird.” Campbell didn’t have a title, not even a lowly one like Heath’s, but he would like one.

“You said you have business of an urgent nature?”

“I do.” Campbell’s voice was full of confidence. He walked over to the liquor table that held the decanter of whisky and glasses. He poured himself a healthy measure. “You should be a better host. Always offer your guest something to quench the thirst from the road.”

Heath frowned. This was strange behavior from Campbell. Because he coveted Marybone, his manner was usually obsequious.

This boldness, while not new to Campbell’s nature, was new to their dealings together.

“What have you done?” Heath asked quietly.

Campbell raised his eyebrows in a parody of surprise. “What makes you believe I’ve ‘done’ anything?”

Heath answered him with a bitter smile.

“Very well,” Campbell said. He downed his whiskey, the gamesmanship leaving his manner. Holding the empty glass, he announced, “I own your paper.”

“My paper?”

“Your debts. I’ve bought them up. I’ve been in the process of it for a long time. There was one creditor who was loyal to your brother. Brodie Macnachtan inspired that in men.”

He was right.

“Do you mean Angus Trotter?” Heath said.

“I do. He refused to sell your brother’s note. Said he’d promised you that he’d give you the chance to pay it off.”

“He did.”

“Did you know he passed away several weeks ago? He was visiting his daughter on the Isle of Skye when he took ill. He was an old man and it wasn’t unexpected. The family didn’t have Trotter’s reluctance to sell me your debts, and at a very good price, I might add.”

Heath’s temper was a boiling stream in his veins. It took all his control to not grab Campbell by his windswept hair and the collar of his tailored coat and toss him out the door. He willed himself to stay still. “Marybone is my birthright.”

“Yes, well, your predecessors shouldn’t have mortgaged it to the hilt. I gave you a fair opportunity to sell to me and keep your respect. Your solicitor urged you to consider my offer. So, now we do this the disagreeable way.” He walked to the door and picked up his hat. “You and I know you can’t pay your debts. Here is my new offer—you will either pay off your debts or vacate these premises within the week. I don’t like you, Macnachtan. You are an arrogant sod. I would be happy to start proceedings to send you to debtors’ prison.” He smiled, pleased with himself. “I can see you are upset with me. I don’t blame you. You’d like to throttle me. String me up. But you can’t. You don’t dare. You have that much sense. If it were just you, well, then you’d do what you wish. But you have your sisters, and their fates are in your hands.”

He was right, damn his soul
.

Campbell started toward the door. “I expect your decision by the morrow. You know where to reach me—”

Margaret stepped into the doorway, startling both men with her sudden appearance. She had to have been listening to be this close to block Campbell’s path. Her expression was one of an avenging angel.

Campbell took a step back. His gaze rolled over her, and Heath could see he was impressed. “Lady Margaret Chattan?” His whole manner changed. He became the courtly gallant as he made a bow. “I’d heard you were in the neighborhood. What a pleasure it is to meet you. Let me introduce myself, I am Owen Campbell—”

“I know who you are and I don’t like you,” Margaret announced. “Furthermore, you may have your answer about Marybone’s debts. We shall pay them off. Immediately. Please provide a complete accounting to Sir James Smiley, Esquire of London and submit them for payment. And then don’t ever show up here again with your threats. Marybone is staying in Macnachtan hands.”

If she had planted a facer on Campbell he could not appear more surprised. “But I thought the Chattan and the Macnachtan are enemies.”

“Not any longer,” Margaret informed him. “I have accepted Laird Macnachtan’s offer of marriage.”

Heath was stunned by Margaret’s claim, but it was also a good moment. Campbell was receiving his comeuppance.

However, having Margaret rescue Macnachtan pride was not something that set well with Heath. He had been willing to protect her honor, but he didn’t expect her to protect his.

Campbell looked back at him. Heath didn’t speak. He was too angry and he didn’t know if he was angrier with Campbell or Margaret.

“You have your answer,” she said to Campbell, dismissing him with a queenly disdain. “Now leave.”

Campbell glanced one more time at Heath and then muttered something about how they hadn’t heard the last of this as he slapped his expensive hat on his head. He left the house.

Margaret was immediately surrounded by Laren and Anice. Their appearance was so quick they must have been on the stairs eavesdropping. Dara entered the room with them as well.

Laren and Anice threw their arms around her. “Thank you,” Laren said. “Thank you so much.”

“This is the best news,” Anice said. “I like you so much and now we shall be sisters through marriage. This is wonderful.”

“Congratulations,” Dara said, the felicitation sounding almost cold in its reserve. She’d taken a moment to see Campbell out the door.

Laren looked over at him. “Why didn’t you tell us, Heath?” she asked.

“It was a sudden decision,” he managed to say through tight jaws. “Will you excuse us? I need a moment with my future
wife
. And don’t let me catch you listening on the stairs.”

Laren and Anice exchanged a look, and for a second, he anticipated them making him truly angry by refusing his order.
Damn women. They were impossible to control. They never followed a direct order.

Dara came to his rescue by placing a hand on each of his sister’s shoulders. “Come,” she said. “Lady Margaret and Heath have much to discuss.”

She whisked them down the hall.

M
argaret eyed Heath warily. “You are not happy with me.”

“That is an understatement,” he answered. He stood a moment and then picked up a glass from the liquor table and threw it into the fire, where it smashed into pieces. There had been a bit of whisky in the glass and the flames hissed.

Margaret was not accustomed to anyone’s anger but her own. She straightened her back. “What have I done to make you furious?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a false note of mild amusement. “I believe you announced we are marrying. Tell me, was I going to have any say in this?”

For a second, Margaret’s cheeks burned. This was awkward. “We had not completely finished our conversation in the library but were you not going to suggest we marry?”

“Ah, yes, the offer you refused before I could make it.”

“You make me sound bulling,” she said, reaching for her pride as a shield. “I have just agreed to pay all your debts. You should be pleased.”

“I pay my own debts,” he said, his brogue coming out. “I don’t need you or anyone else to pay them.”

“Because you were doing so well on your own,” she couldn’t resist pointing out, and that was not the wisest thing to say. But no one, absolutely
no one
had ever questioned her actions. She was Margaret Chattan. She did as she pleased.

A fierce light came to Heath’s eyes. “What you don’t realize, my lady, is that the rest of us have just as much right to our pride and our choice of action as you do. Furthermore, I seem to remember you informing me that marriage was not in order. What made you change your mind?
Pity?
”

Too late, Margaret had a clarity of vision that allowed her to see how he had interpreted her actions. “No,” she said, taking a step toward him. “I—I overheard—”

“You were prying,” he corrected. “Let us be clear about that. My interview with Campbell was none of your business.”

“It is
if you consider that I have come to think highly of all of you,” she responded in her defense. “And your sisters were on the stairs. I merely joined them,” she threw out, a weak excuse for poor manners if ever there was one.

“Think highly of us?” he said. He snorted his thoughts on that. “Doing what you did, and the way you did it, tells me you don’t think about any of us at all. We are a means to an end.”

Margaret wanted to stamp her feet with frustration. “Owen Campbell was going to take Marybone away from you. I have the money. It’s doing nothing but sitting in the funds drawing two percent.”

“And now I am in debt to
you
,” he snapped.

Margaret shook her head. “No, that is not it at all. You needed help and so I offered it.”

“You didn’t offer it, Maggie. You rammed it down my throat.” He started to walk past her but then he stopped, turned and faced her. “And the worst part is, there is nothing I can do about it. It’s done.”

“You don’t need to marry me, if that is what concerns you.”

“How little you know men,” he responded. “Of course, I
must
marry you.” He practically spit the words out.

“Well, you can’t,” she said, her pride rising. “I don’t want to marry you. And I don’t care about the money. I have plenty of money. I have so much money, I can’t stand it.” And then she walked out of the room, determined to be the first to leave. Men didn’t reject her. She rejected them.

“Margaret, come back here,” he ordered.

She ignored him. She climbed the stairs two at a time and raced to the haven of her room. She slammed the door behind her. Her whole body was shaking.

How dare he speak to her in that manner. She had been trying to help and he made her feel as if she had pushed her way into the conversation . . . and into his life.

“He would have lost the house,” she said to her reflection in the looking glass.

And she’d meant what she’d said about letting him have the money. Money meant nothing to her, while it obviously meant
everything
to him.

The bath he had ordered had been prepared for her. The tub was an old wooden one. The servants had set it in front of the hearth although there was no fire in it. That was done
to conserve money
. She would be expected to light the peat—used instead of wood
because there was no money
—which she should have no problem doing if she hadn’t started crying.

Margaret knelt in front of the cold hearth, the flint box in one hand, and let the tears fall.

She didn’t understand what had come over her. She’d never in her life cried as much as she had in Scotland.

Then again, she’d never allowed herself the emotional freedom she’d discovered here.

In England, her life was controlled. No one argued with her or mistook her best intentions or accused her of overstepping boundaries. She had servants who jumped to her bidding.

No one expected
anything
of her or told her nay—until Heath Macnachtan. He had no difficulty putting her in her place. No wonder she didn’t like him. He was unreasonable.

And she was still going to pay his debts—for no other reason than she
did
want him beholden to her because she
knew
how angry that would make him.

A soft knock sounded at the door. The girl Cora’s excited voice said, “Lady Margaret, your servant has awakened. You said you wanted to know when that happened.”

Rowan. Guilt flooded through Margaret. She’d been so enmeshed in Heath Macnachtan she’d almost forgotten her brave servant.

She wiped her face with her hands. “Yes, I did.” She rose from the floor and crossed the room to the door. Cora waited outside. “When did he wake?”

“Just a few moments ago. His eyes opened and he blinked.” She opened her eyes wide and blinked to demonstrate.

“I’ll go to him right now,” Margaret said, suddenly anxious to connect with someone from her other life. Rowan would help her make sense of all this. He was her connection to her brothers, who always knew what to do. They were stronger and braver than she.

She dashed up the stairs, gave a knock at the door and entered Rowan’s room without waiting for permission.

The valet looked to her. Tears filled his eyes. His dusky skin had a tinge of ash to it and deep circles underlined his eyes. His face was still swollen from bruises.

“It is all right,” Margaret said, coming to his bedside and pulling the chair Cora had been sitting in closer. “There was a terrible accident, but you are going to be all right.” She tried to smile encouragement. It was difficult. “You’ve broken many bones and so sleeping has been a blessing for you, Rowan. No, don’t try to move. If it is possible, please, keep still.”