Joan's mouth tightened. He had agreed for honor's sake. Not exactly flattering.
"So if Annabel were to examine ye, she'd find ye still a maiden?" he asked calmly.
"Ross," Annabel protested.
"She's our responsibility now, wife. We ha'e to see to her future," he said quietly, and then pointed out, "She could be with child even now."
"Nay, I ha'e been taking Devil's plague to ensure that didn't happen," Joan said quickly, and then knew by Annabel's expression that it had been the wrong thing to say. She'd as good as admitted she'd given Cam her innocence. Sighing, she shook her head. "This has nothing to do with you. I have managed on my own since my mother fell ill and can continue to do so. I will not marry him. In fact, this," she gestured to the gown she wore, "was a mistake. I'll change back to my own clothes and leave you be. You can pretend I never came here and gave you that message."
"Oh, Joan, no, you cannot!" Annabel protested at once, hurrying back to her side.
"Me wife's right," Ross said grimly. "Ye may ha'e managed on yer own ere this, lass, but that's only because we did no' ken about ye. We do now. Ye're our niece and as such yer our responsibility." He paused briefly and then added, "And as yer uncle, I'm tellin' ye, ye're no' going anywhere. Ye'll stay here and marry Cam as has been arranged."
"But he doesn't want me," Joan protested at once.
"Does he no'?" Ross asked, eyebrows rising. "And yet he was quick to say he should marry ye when ye women came above stairs."
"That's just because he knew you would expect him to," she argued wearily. "He had no intention of marrying me ere finding out that I was your niece."
"Mayhap not," Ross said with a shrug. "But ye are me niece, and ye'll marry because 'tis the right thing to do."
The MacKay turned on his heel and strode from the room then, leaving Joan glaring after him.
" 'Twill be all right," her aunt said quietly, rubbing Joan's arm soothingly, her gaze on the door her husband had left through.
"How can it be?" Joan asked miserably, and then blurted, "I can't marry him. I'll not live my life in fear."
Annabel turned back to her with surprise. "You're afraid of Cam?"
"Aye. Nay. I do not mean that I fear he would hit me or such," she added quickly when Annabel frowned.
"Then what do you mean?" her aunt asked, trying to understand.
Joan tried to find the words to explain, and then finally admitted, "When your husband came upon us, Cam had just said he didn't want what we had to end and asked me to go to Sinclair with him after I delivered your message and I said no."
"You did not want to go to Sinclair with him?" Annabel asked with a frown.
"Oh, aye, I did," Joan assured her. "I wanted desperately to go."
Confusion clouded her face. "Well then--"
"I was afraid," Joan admitted unhappily. "I still am. I've never felt like this. The more I'm with him the more I want to be with him. I feel so happy with Cam, no matter what we're doing. Walking, talking, sitting quietly by the fire, and . . . everything else," she finished lamely, and then sighed. "I've never been so happy as I was this last two weeks. Ever," she admitted quietly, and then added, "But when he asked me to go with him . . ." She shook her head. "As happy as I've been these last two weeks, when he asked me to go with him, all I could think was how miserable I would be when he tired of me for mistress and turned his attentions to another."
"You love him," Annabel said gently.
"Mayhap," Joan said wearily.
"You do," Annabel assured her. "But you do not have to be afraid anymore, Joan. You will not be going to Sinclair as his mistress but as his wife. He cannot throw you aside for another."
"Nay," she acknowledged. "But he never wanted to marry again. He told me so himself. And now he's being forced to." Joan shook her head hopelessly. "He'll hate me for our having to wed. And how awful do you think it will be being married to him, when he hates me?"
Annabel sighed and pulled her into her arms for a hug. Rubbing her back, she said, "I know it does not seem like it now, but life has a way of working out."
"You're right, it doesn't seem like it," Joan said unhappily.
"I felt much the same when I was told I was to marry Ross," Annabel said solemnly. "I thought he would be disappointed in me as a wife. I had been raised to become a nun. I had no training as a wife. I did not know the first thing about running a keep or--"
"Dear God," Joan cried, pulling free as horror rolled over her. "I didn't think of that!"
"What?" Annabel asked with bewilderment.
"I have no training either, but not just to run a keep. I was raised in the village. I don't know the first thing about even being a lady. 'Tis no wonder he doesn't want his parents at the wedding. He is embarrassed by me and they will be horrified the minute they--"
"I'm sure that's not true, Joan," Annabel interrupted quickly, and then added. "Besides, unlike me, you are not alone. I will not abandon you as my mother did me. I can teach you all that you need to know. It will be all right."
Joan stared at her silently. She wanted to believe that everything would be all right, but in her experience, things rarely turned out all right in this life.
Chapter 9
"DO YE PLAN TO SIT HERE ALL NIGHT? Or will ye join yer new bride in bed?"
Cam glanced up from his contemplation of his ale at Laird MacKay's question and heaved a sigh. "I suppose I should retire."
"So eager," Ross said dryly and then shook his head. "I do no' understand the pair o' ye. Ye seemed cozy as could be in the woods this morning, and ye've admitted ye bedded the lass on the journey here. Yet now ye're both acting like marrying each other is the worst punishment available."
" 'Tis no' me who sees it as a punishment," Cam said dryly, turning his tankard on the tabletop. "In case ye hadn't noticed, she looked like a lamb on the way to the slaughter this afternoon during the ceremony."
"Aye, she did," Ross agreed. "But then you looked as grim as if ye were at a funeral so mayhap she was just reacting to that."
Cam shook his head wearily. "She does no' want me for husband."
"Hmmm." Ross took a drink of his own ale and then shook his head. "That's the same thing she said about you."
"What?" he turned on him with amazement.
"Aye." Ross nodded. "She said ye didn't want her and were only marrying her fer honor's sake."
Cam scowled at this news. "We
ll then she's daft. Hell, when ye came upon us in the clearing I'd just asked her to come to Sinclair with me after she delivered her message . . . and she said she did no' want to."
Ross considered that, and then asked, "What were ye asking her to go to Sinclair as?"
"What do ye mean?" Cam asked with a frown.
"Well, were ye planning to marry her? Did ye invite her to work at Sinclair? Or were ye suggesting she go as yer mistress?"
"I . . ." Cam paused. He hadn't even considered marriage. He'd said he would never marry again so often that it had become a truth, although really it was the risking a wife on the birthing bed that he didn't want. But to his mind that meant never having a wife since all women wanted children. Except Joan. She feared the birthing bed, and like him, didn't want to risk it and had the knowledge to avoid it. In truth, she would be the perfect wife for him in that regard, and yet he hadn't considered marriage. After all, she was a commoner and he a noble and that just did not happen. At least, not often.
"Annabel thinks the lass loves ye," Ross announced suddenly, effectively bringing an end to Cam's ruminations.
He glanced to him sharply. "She does? Why?"
Ross shrugged. "She did no' say why she thought it, just that she did."
Cam turned his gaze to his tankard again, his mind racing. Did she love him? That would be-- He halted his thoughts and glanced back to Ross. "If Lady Annabel is right, why did Joan refuse to come to Sinclair with me?"
"Pride?" Ross suggested and then grimaced and shrugged. "Who can tell with women? I ha'e been married more than twenty years to one female and reared two more and much as I love them all, still do no' understand why they do what they do most o' the time." He took a drink of his ale, then added, "In truth, I do no' think even they ken why they do much o' what they do. They're very emotional creatures, and there often seems little logic to their decisions until they explain them and then it usually boils down to their being tenderhearted. At least it does with me Annabel and the girls."
"Women," Cam sighed with mild disgust.
"Aye, they can be a trial," Ross agreed and then smiled and added, "but they can be heaven as well and I would no' give up me Annabel or our daughters fer all the gold in England and Scotland."
Cam smiled faintly, knowing that was the absolute truth. Ross MacKay loved his wife and his children dearly. And they in turn, loved him back. He was a lucky man. Cam had given up any hope of having that when his first wife had died, but if Joan loved him--