‘I’m not so certain about that,’ he said. ‘He’s in love with another woman.’
Regina nearly flinched at his words but suppressed the instinct. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ If Locharr cared for someone else, it was likely that he would leave her alone. And that was necessary to surviving the marriage. She took a step backwards and glanced at the door. ‘My father is dying, and he wants to see me married. I intend to keep my word.’
With that, she straightened and regarded him. ‘Thank you for your help, Lord Camford. I will see that you are repaid for hiring the Runner.’
‘I will not accept any repayment,’ he countered. ‘You know this.’ The look in his eyes held a hint of frustration, but it was the softer tone that bothered her.
He cared. And the more she spent time in his presence, the more she was starting to falter in keeping up the wall around her feelings. For so long, they had been friends. She trusted Camford, knowing he would never, ever hurt her. Over the years, he had proven himself, and she was grateful for his friendship.
But during the past few weeks, it was as if something within her had shifted. She could not deny that she was attracted to his handsome face, but it was his kindness that was her undoing. There was a yearning within her and the knowledge that she would miss him when he was gone. And that was entirely too dangerous.
‘Please accept my gratitude for your assistance, Lord Camford,’ she said with all formality. She was careful to keep all warmth or friendliness from her voice. Despite her traitorous feelings, she needed Camford to leave and not see her again. ‘I bid you farewell.’
With that, she left the kitchens, only to nearly stumble into her maid, Nell. ‘It is not polite to be lurking around corners,’ she told the young girl. ‘Especially after I asked you to leave.’
‘Forgive me, my lady. It’s only that Lady Havershire ordered me to remain close by as a chaperon.’
She wasn’t surprised at her mother’s interference. But as Lord Camford departed, he never said a word to her, nor did he look back. His stony silence cut her heart, despite her attempts to remain frozen to any feelings.
It was better this way, she told herself. And it was the only way she could protect herself from unwanted emotions was not to see the viscount again.
It was the night before his engagement ball, and Lachlan MacKinloch looked terrible. Never had a man seemed more reluctant to wed. Dalton, Gabriel, and the laird were gathered around a bottle of brandy. It was meant to be a celebration, but Locharr appeared troubled.
‘You’re looking rather glum for a man about to be married,’ Gabriel MacKinnon said. He took a sip of brandy, eyeing their friend.
An understatement, if there ever was one.
‘He looks as if he’s about to be strung up,’ Dalton remarked, trying to keep his tone light. He knew, all too well, the reason for his friend’s misery. ‘Though it’s wise to let the bride and her family make all the plans.’ He had heard that Lady Havershire had thrown herself into the wedding plans, delighted at the idea of their match.
Lachlan poured his own glass and didn’t answer. He looked as if he wanted to call it off. But then, Gabe MacKinnon intervened, saying, ‘I didna love my wife when I first married her. I’d never seen her before, you ken? It was arranged, and I hated the thought of wedding a stranger. But I learned to care for her.’
You’re not helping, Dalton wanted to say but didn’t. It seemed that both Lachlan and Regina intended to go through with a loveless marriage. The laird sipped at his brandy and stared outside the window, though Dalton knew he’d heard every word.
MacKinnon came to stand beside him and reminded Lachlan, ‘Your father wanted this. And you said that you wanted the match as well, to save Locharr from ruin.’ There was a slight question in his voice, as if wondering if it were still true.
‘I did say that,’ Lachlan answered. But his voice held a numb quality, almost toneless.
Dalton was torn about what to say. He wanted the laird to call it off—and yet, Locharr needed her dowry to save his people. The laird would not hesitate to sacrifice himself for their sake.
‘Have you arranged for the special licence?’ MacKinnon asked. ‘Or are you having the banns read?’
‘Lord and Lady Havershire are wanting me to get a special licence. I’ll take care of it on the morrow.’
Dalton’s gaze narrowed. Locharr hadn’t procured the licence yet? It seemed that he was quite the reluctant bridegroom.
Gabe said quietly, ‘All will be well, Lachlan. You’ll see.’ He clapped Locharr on the back as he departed the room.
But likely, it wouldn’t be.
Dalton stayed behind, wondering if he dared ask Locharr the truth about his feelings. His friend appeared resigned to the marriage as if it were an execution. ‘You don’t want this marriage any more, do you?’
Lachlan shook his head. ‘I thought I did. I thought I should wed her for the sake of Locharr. But it’s no’ the right thing to do. She doesna deserve a man like me.’
Dalton chose his words carefully, hiding his own thoughts. ‘What will you do? Withdraw your offer?’
It would embarrass Regina, but was that not better than a lifetime of unhappiness?
Lachlan shrugged. ‘I dinna ken what I should do. I suppose I should talk to her. Tell her the truth.’
But Dalton wasn’t so certain that confronting her in person was wise. Lord and Lady Havershire would be furious if Locharr tried to call it off with Regina. ‘It may already be too late. They’ve set the date, haven’t they?’
‘They have, aye.’ He set down the brandy snifter and stared at the window again, almost as if searching for a way out.
And there was a way out—if Locharr ended the engagement. By now, Dalton knew that Regina would not walk away
