The vehicle’s door swung open, and he saw the Laird of Crianlarich step out onto the road. Fergus MacTavish’s plain brown work kilt was offset by the MacTavish tartan fly plaid he wore on his shoulder. His father was a tall man, falling just shy of Julian’s own height. With his neatly trimmed, peppered beard and glengarry dipped low over his forehead, Fergus MacTavish was a handsome, but stern-looking, man. His stern, weathered features eased slightly as he directed a small smile at Julian.
“Tis good to have ye home, lad,” Fergus said as he shook Julian’s hand then gestured toward the carriage.
Julian quietly thanked Drummond, their driver, as he handed his bags off to the man. The longtime servant touched his cap in a deferential manner as he accepted the baggage. The vehicle’s interior was cramped, and seated across from his father, the combination of their long legs made it all the more confining.
The carriage rolled forward with a jerk, and Julian stared out the window. Why had he come back to Crianlarich Castle? Because the house he’d shared with Patience had become a tomb without her.
“I take it your wife will no’ be coming any time soon?”
“No,” he said crisply, unwilling to listen to the Crianlarich belittle Patience.
God, how he missed her. The memory of how she’d fled from him yesterday when he’d caught a glimpse of her on the second floor landing of Melton House still haunted him. He’d always loved Patience’s full curves and lush thighs. The silhouette he’d seen standing in the dim light of the second floor corridor was a mere shadow of the woman he’d married.
His father’s indiscretion, was why he was no longer with his wife. His jaw clenched as he remembered the lies he’d told Patience to protect Caitriona’s shame. He’d had a choice not to lie, but he’d done what he thought was the right thing at the time. It was difficult enough knowing the lies he’d told were one of the reasons Patience would never return to Crianlarich or the house they had shared in London.
If he’d not lied, he would have had a much better chance of convincing Patience of his innocence and that Una was a liar. He had no idea how the woman knew about his birthmark. Not even when he’d unleashed his wrath over her head more than a month after the fire had she offered up any explanation as to how she knew about the mark.
“Where’s your head, lad. I asked you a question.”
“My apologies, sir.” At his stilted reply, Fergus shook his head slightly.
“I asked how well Patience was mending?”
“What?” Julian stared at his father in amazement before he narrowed his gaze at The Crianlarich. “Since when did you give a damn about Patience?”
“I am no’ always a hard-hearted man, Julian,” Fergus said in a strained voice. “I might no’ have liked ye taking her as a bride, but I have never wished her harm.”
“I find that surprising, since you did your best to convince her that she wasn’t good enough for me,” he bit out as he glared at his father. The Crianlarich flinched before an implacable mask of stone hardened his features. Silence drifted between them for several moments as Julian returned his gaze to the landscape outside the carriage.
“I received a note from Lady Westbrook thanking me for the flowers I sent to her husband’s funeral. The fire was a terrible thing.” His father’s attempts at conversation puzzled him as he bobbed his head without looking at Fergus.
“And Patience’s scars? Are they—”
“Why this sudden interest in my wife, Crianlarich,” he snarled as he used one of his father’s less formal titles. He glared at the man who’d played a part in his unhappiness.
“Because ye are my son, and I know ye love the woman. I also know tis no’ been easy on ye or any of the Rockwoods. Two deaths and Patience’s injuries is no’ something to heal from quickly.”
“It’s hellish,” he said sharply. “The family has found it extremely difficult to deal with Caleb’s and Devin’s deaths as well as their concern about Patience.”
“I do no’ envy Lady Westbrook left alone tae raise her children,” his father said with a note of sorrow in his voice. “When I lost your mother, I did no’ know what tae do.”
“I doubt your cock remained soft for too long.” Julian’s crude comment made his father jerk his head back in astonishment before his face reddened in anger.
“I loved your mother, lad, and do no’ ye ever forget that,” the Crianlarich snarled. “Do no’ confuse love with a mon’s baser needs.”
A small nugget of regret lodged in Julian’s throat at the insult to his father before he remembered Caitriona. He gritted his teeth and jerked his gaze back to the passing scenery. Caitriona had loved her father deeply, and Bensmore had always doted on both his daughters.
In her confession to him, Caitriona had made it clear that Julian was never to tell her father about the child. She’d told Julian that she’d left home because she believed it would have killed her father to know what she’d done. Her worst fear had been what her father would say when he discovered the child’s father was Fergus MacTavish.
“How is the boy faring,” he asked quietly without looking at Fergus.
“He’s going to be a strapping lad just like his older brother.” There was a note of pride in his father’s voice that filled Julian with anger.
“You should have married her the moment you bedded her,” Julian said with outrage and disgust as he turned his head back to meet his father’s startled gaze. A split-second later, the Crianlarich narrowed his eyes at Julian.
“I did no’ pursue the lass,” Fergus said. “She entered my bed without invitation. I had no wish to marry again, and I told her that.”
“As I said your cock has no’ remained soft.”
“Caitriona did no’ tell me she was carrying my son. If she had, I would have done the honorable thing by her.” His father’s voice echoed belligerently in the air as he refused to accept any blame for what had happened to Caitriona.
“And have you told Bensmore the truth?” At the question, Fergus moved uncomfortably in his seat.
“Tis been hard enough on the mon, losing Caitriona. I see no need to add tae his pain.”
“In other words, you have no’ had the courage to tell him you were the one who sullied her, left her with child then abandoned her.”
“I did no’ abandon Caitriona. I did no’ know the lass was with child until ye sent the bairn to Crianlarich with the letter that
I
was the father,” Fergus said indignantly. “I have done my duty by the child.”
“But no’ to Bensmore. The man deserves to know his grandson,” Julian said between clenched teeth.
“Ye can tell him the truth,” Fergus said with a crafty look. Julian glared at him.
“You know damn well I gave my word to Caitriona no’ to tell her father.”
“And yet ye had no problem breaking ye word when it came to telling me the boy was mine,” his father sneered.
“Caitriona did no’ ask me to hide the truth from you—only her father, and I’ll no’ break my word to her. But you’re a coward for no’ telling the man the truth.” Julian’s scorn made his father’s face grow dark with the rage.
“Do no’ judge me, boy. Tis better that Robert believe Caitriona and her child died in childbirth. The mon
has been humiliated enough.”
“And what about Aiden? Has Bensmore not even questioned Aiden’s sudden arrival at Crianlarich Castle?”
“I told him the child is yours and Patience’s. He thinks ye sent the boy here because of the fire and Patience injuries.”
“
You did what
?” he snarled.
Julian stared at his father with raw fury. The bastard had no shame. Worse, he’d made Patience a pawn in his charade. He wanted to wrap his hands around his father’s throat and squeeze until the man was on the brink of death.
“I thought it a perfect solution,” Fergus shrugged. “Ye and your wife have yet to have a child, but Bensmore and everyone else do no’ know that.”
“And what do I tell Patience? Do you really think she’ll accept the child as her own?” Julian ground out with the fury he’d only ever wielded over Una’s head for her part in destroying his marriage.
“Aye, for all her lack of Scottish blood, she loves you,” the Crianlarich said with confidence. “She’ll take the babe as her own.”
Disgusted by his father’s actions and lies, Julian stared out the window once again. How in the hell was he supposed to explain his father’s lie to Patience? What would it do to her when she learned everyone believed her to be the mother of Caitriona’s and her father-in-law’s baby? A child she might think was his. He closed his eyes for a brief moment.
When Caitriona had begged him not to tell Bensmore who her lover had been, Julian had instinctively known she was pleading with him to tell no one about the baby. But she’d only been explicit about her father, not anyone else. The morning he’d returned home, he’d not been thinking straight. Lack of sleep had made him take his oath to Caitriona so literally. But it could not be undone. He’d not shared everything with Patience, and it exposed him for the fool that he was, and his stupidity had come at a steep price.
Julian grimaced at the thought. He’d accused her of not being able to trust him, and yet he’d repaid the debt in kind by lying to her. Even worse was the havoc Una had added to the wretched mess. His jaw hardened at the thought. Not even when he’d confronted the woman had she been remorseful. Instead, she’d scornfully dismissed Patience and suggested that he divorce her and take a true Scottish wife. That Una had actually thought he would do such a thing reinforced his anger and disgust for his father. The Crianlarich had filled Una’s head with hopes of one day being Mistress of Crianlarich. Una’s successful attempt to destroy his marriage revealed the woman would go to great lengths to achieve her goal.
The carriage wheel hit a deep rut in the road, and it jogged Julian out of his thoughts. He glanced out the window opposite his seat. They were on the narrowest stretch of road leading to the castle. On his father’s side of the carriage, the byway bordered a drop off of almost a hundred feet. Across from him, Fergus uttered a low growl as he leaned forward to stick his head out the window.
The Crianlarich shouted at Drummond, but before Fergus could retreat back into the cabin, one of the wheels at the back of the carriage cracked loudly. The wheel wobbled violently in a manner that made the vehicle teeter precariously toward the edge of the small cliff. Outside, the horses were whinnying loudly, while Drummond called out to them in a voice filled with fear.
“Father, move to this side of the carriage,” Julian snapped as the vehicle tilted further toward the cliff.
The Crianlarich moved quickly to do as Julian ordered, but his shift in position destabilized the vehicle more. With a loud screech of wood and metal, the carriage tumbled off the short craggy incline. He heard his father cry out while the horses screamed in terror. Instinct made Julian brace himself against the wall of the vehicle as it rolled downward.
Tossed to the opposite side of the carriage, his head slammed against the side of the wall that had been pierced by a large rock. The moment his head hit the granite he could have sworn someone had taken an ax to his skull. Patience’s face filtered through his pain to hover in front of him like a shimmering light. In that brief moment, he thanked God she wasn’t with him. It was the last thing he remembered before he passed out.
Shouts echoed in the distance, and Julian slowly regained consciousness. He had no idea how long he’d been senseless. Opening his eyes, he realized it was nighttime. The moon had to be behind the clouds as there wasn’t a single drop of light in the carriage making it impossible to see his father. Julian touched his throbbing forehead and suppressed a groan. The knot on his head was the size of a large egg, and there was blood from a cut close to his temple. Christ Jesus, his head hurt. A sharp pain radiated from below his knee which was trapped beneath his other leg. The moment he straightened the leg, pain streaked up it with the force of a hammer blow.
“
Fuck
,” he snarled as he slammed his fist into his upper thigh and waited for the knifelike sensation in his calf to ease.
Julian hovered on the edge of consciousness for a moment before the pain dissipated to a persistent stabbing sensation. The tension in his body slowly abated, and a slow breath of relief rolled past his lips. He didn’t need a doctor to know his leg was broken. Julian uttered another oath as he stretched out his hand to search for his father in the darkness.
“Father, are you all right?”
After groping for several seconds, his hand found the Crianlarich’s arm. Gently, he squeezed his father’s shoulder. He tried to shift his position, but this time it was his head that protested with a vicious stab of pain. The voices were almost at the shattered vehicle, and Julian realized he’d fainted again. Furious that his body wasn’t cooperating with his desire to move, Julian steeled himself for more pain as he reached out to touch his father. His fingers brushed the side of his father’s face, and he tapped him lightly on the cheek.
“Father,
answer me
,” he snapped. He smacked harder at the Crianlarich’s face. The instant he did so, his father’s head lolled to one side, and Julian drew in a sharp breath of shock. Despite their differences, Julian loved his father. It seemed inconceivable that he might truly be gone.
“Crianlarich, Mr. MacTavish, are ye all right?”
“Who’s there?” His leg protested viciously the instant he shifted his position. Pain pulled a loud grunt from him as he struggled to remain conscious. In the back of his mind, he tried to understand why the man didn’t have a light.
“Do ye no’ recognize me, Mr. MacTavish? It’s Croft. Ainsley is with me too.”
“How badly is my father injured?” he asked hoping his initial assessment was wrong.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Croft hesitated, before his tone shifted to one of sympathy and regret. “The Crianlarich has met his maker.”
Julian closed his eyes at the words as grief dug into his senses. It penetrated his physical pain to lash at his heart. Frozen in place, it was as if someone had suspended him in the bleakest of nights with the realization he was the new Crianlarich. The thought only reinforced the fact that his father was dead, and grief tugged at him again. He pushed his sorrow aside as he remembered the driver of the carriage.