Читать книгу The Negotiated Marriage - Christina Rich - Страница 11

Chapter Three

“No! I have no need for a husband,” Camy said as she propelled out of Duncan’s arms.

Although he felt a tad shaky on his own feet, Duncan grabbed hold of her arm and steadied her. He’d been both shocked and unsurprised at Hamish’s revelation, and he didn’t know which irritated him more, the fact that his friend hadn’t been completely truthful about the acquisition of the land until last night, or that the Lady Hamish intended him to marry hadn’t been told about the bargain. Either way, he wouldn’t wed an unwilling bride. “It seems we are in agreement. I have no need for a wife.”

“Excellent. Wh-why are you here?”

Duncan looked about him. Although the spring had yet to produce buds on the trees and the green of the grass had yet to sprout from the muddied land, the sight before him was more than he could have hoped for. In this Hamish had not exaggerated. A flat valley for planting gave way to gentle-rolling hills. Hens pecked around the yard. Several goats stood on top of a small wooden shed. A pair of oxen huddled beneath a lean-to. A hound as ugly as any he’d ever seen poked his head from around the door of a large barn before lying back down.

“This.” Duncan motioned to the land stretched out before them.

“Is mine.” Camy glared at Hamish. “You promised.”

“You expected Hamish to keep his word?” Ellie crossed her arms.

“My shoulder’s been shot, not my head, Ellie.” She turned toward Hamish. “You gave your word. A Sims always keeps his word, right, Hamish?”

“Cameron, ye know I would if I could.” The old man glanced at his feet. “The river is thawing.”

A look passed between the sisters. Eyes narrowed, Camy turned toward the small cabin and wobbled. Duncan swept her into his arms. Her limbs turned to stone. “We can discuss the situation after the doctor tends to your shoulder.”

“I agree.” Ellie motioned for him to follow her into the small cabin.

Ellie went directly to the fire and poked at the logs in the fireplace, stoking the embers to life. She placed a pot on a hook over the flames. “Sit her on the bed, if you will.”

Camy’s cheeks took on a rosy hue. “I’ll sit on the chair.”

Ellie glanced over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed; she seemed unware of the awkwardness. After a moment, she gave a quick nod. “Do as you please. However, Northrop will have you moved to the bed before he examines you.”

Camy shivered. “All the more reason I will insist on sitting in the chair. I will not be perceived as a weak-kneed ninny. Besides, I could use dry clothes.”

She had threatened him with a gun, demanded his obedience, received a bullet in her shoulder without so much as a bat of an eyelash and taken a dunk in the river. She was the furthest thing from a ninny, and his chest welled with pride at her courage. A shame he couldn’t marry her. Unlike many of the ladies who’d vied for his attention in order to appease their vanity, she wouldn’t demand his every waking hour, leaving him free to do as he wished. However, he feared her lack of dependence on him for her emotional well-being would only draw him nearer as she did now, intriguing him to get to know her even better. Realizing he was a little more reluctant than he should be about relinquishing her, he plopped her onto the nearest spindle-back chair.

“Ow.” Camy teetered toward the table but caught herself with her good hand. She scooted toward the edge of the chair with her chin held high and her back straight as a plank. “If I was such a b-burden, you could have let me walk.”

“My apologies.” Duncan’s cheeks flamed. “I should have been more careful.”

Of course, he would do well not to touch her again. He wouldn’t wish to be caught in her womanly charm. He scrubbed his palm over his face and winced as he brushed his hand over his eye. The cabin grew a few shades darker and the air closed in. Duncan needed to think about how he could seal the purchase without her as part of the negotiation. He turned for the door. Swinging it open, he stepped into the mud outside.

“Mr. Murray,” Camy called.

His hand on the door. “Yes?”

“Where are you going?”

“To gather your belongings from the river.” He needed air. He needed to get away from her to regain his wits about him. He’d found many ladies attractive over the years, but none as interesting as Camy Sims. The very lilt of her speech tempted him with a desire to sit and chat about nonessentials, a temptation he hadn’t experienced in many years, since before his mother fell ill and lost the will to speak. He could imagine himself sitting across the table with her, sipping tea and eating biscuits, while she regaled him with some tale or another. All he had to do was agree to Hamish’s terms. And gain Camy’s acceptance to be his wife. Absolutely not.

“It is raining. You have no shoes.”

“Rain has never stopped me from enjoying the outdoors.” Glancing down, he held his arms out. “A little more won’t hurt me.” As much as he would enjoy a warm fire to dry his bones, he needed to walk, to think. Why had Hamish brought him out here to no more than a shack housing three sisters? To play on his charitable nature? The old man would find his charity didn’t extend to marrying a brown-eyed lass with tumbling locks as wild as his beloved Highlands. He had to find Hamish and be done with his business so he could remove himself from Camy’s presence.

“You’ll catch your death if you’re not careful.”

If he was not careful he’d catch something much worse than death, like her for a wife. He’d much rather marry one of the simpering young ladies who cared more for proper social graces than was necessary, as it would be easier to maintain his distance. Besides, he felt at home with his bare toes in the cool grass—a little mud would not make a difference.

“I assure you I will be fine, Miss Sims. Besides, I wish to look for your father.”

Deep lines creased her forehead. “My father? You’ll have a time of that. He’s not been seen ’round here in years. He left us with Uncle Hamish when Mara Jean was a tot.”

“You cannot blame our father, Camy.” Ellie dropped a pile of clean cloths into the boiling water and stirred it around. “He had no means to care for three little girls.”

Camy scowled. “Either did Hamish.”

“Hamish had Naomi,” Ellie countered.

“Even so, Da dinnae even try.” Camy’s voice wobbled.

The soft lilt of her accent ignited the black heart confined behind the brick and mortar of his chest. Her words pummeled him like a battering ram. Her words were similar to those he’d said to his own mother after his father left them with a leaky roof, no wood for the winter and no food for their bellies. Even in her illness and after all his father’s abuses, his mother had continued to defend him, but Duncan knew the truth: his father hadn’t even tried. Duncan had done what he could, but there weren’t many folks willing to help the son and wife of a scoundrel like Ewan Murray.

The pain of old wounds sliced through him like an ax splitting wood. To make matters worse, the sisters’ raw emotions filled the room. Duncan understood the rejection and the loneliness all too well and he did not wish to recall the depth of pain he’d felt when his father abandoned him and his mother. However, he could not stop his heartstrings from pulling taut and drawing him closer into their midst, closer to Camy. The sheen of her brown eyes dulled, beckoning him to shield her from all the hurts of this life. If he stayed, as he’d promised, he wouldn’t have the strength to resist his need to protect her. He reminded himself that he was no better than his father, no better than Camy’s. No matter how much he wished it otherwise.

With escape the only thing on his mind, he pulled the door closed and stepped beneath the stoop and off the porch, his toes sinking into the mud. He lifted his face to the punishing sting of the rain. Would his father’s past always chase him down and haunt his thoughts?

The land beckoned to him. However, the pounding in his head and the promise he’d made to Camy to remain by her side kept him from giving in to the need to run barefoot across the countryside as he’d done when he was a lad whenever his father had left, sometimes for months at a time, leaving his mother to suffer days of melancholy.

* * *

Camy slumped against the chair as the door closed behind him. The effort to act the lady almost forced her to embarrassment as she fought the roiling in her stomach. The sharp sting had long since turned into a deep burning, which seem to be spreading throughout her body. Although she was grateful he’d left, giving her a moment of reprieve from proper decorum, disappointment cut into her thoughts and she had a deep suspicion it had something to do with Duncan and his promise to stay by her side, and little to do with memories of her father’s abandonment. She’d long since carved him from her mind.

There were few men of her acquaintance who kept their word, so she didn’t understand why she believed Duncan would be different. Perhaps it had been the look in his eyes when he gave his word. As if he meant it. Hamish, with all his faults, had the same look when he meant to do as he said, which wasn’t often. It was why she had been convinced Hamish would never sell the land. Her uncle might be a lot of things right down to a no-good yellow belly at times, but when he made a promise with a look of determination, he kept it. Until now, it seemed.

“Here.” Ellie cupped her elbow and helped her stand to her feet. “Let’s get you out of your wet things before Dr. Northrop arrives.”

Camy groaned with each pull and tug as Ellie helped her change into a dry skirt and a loose-fitting bodice. She was near to suffering from the vapors by the time her sister fastened the last of the buttons after covering her wound with strips of linen. A quick tug of her hair had her knees wobbling and Camy didn’t think she’d be able to stand much longer. Ellie released Camy’s hair with an irritated sigh.

“We’ll not worry about tidying you up any more than necessary, but we do need to get your hair dried.” Ellie moved the chair closer to the fire and helped her sit. “Do you wish to speak about Mr. Murray before Northrop arrives?”

Turning sideways in the chair, she rested her head against the back of the chair, the spindles biting into her sensitive flesh as she sank against the hard wood. “There’s not much to tell. I found him unconscious by the river, beaten and with no shoes. Once he woke up he asked after Hamish and claimed to be purchasing my, er, our land.”

“I meant to discuss the wedding, Camy,” Ellie responded.

“There is nothing to discuss.”

“I tell you, Hamish is up to no good.” The sound of Ellie scrubbing the table met Camy’s ears. How many times could a person scrub an already well-scrubbed surface? A blur of purple squeezed between Camy and the warmth of the fire, chilling her limbs. The spoon clanked against the kettle. Camy didn’t need her spectacles to see Ellie’s frenzied state. Every brisk movement and every mumble beneath her sister’s breath spoke clearly. Water cascaded as Ellie scooped another cloth out of the kettle. Everything in the cabin seemed to halt until the dripping of water subsided. Ellie’s purple shadow swiveled away from the fire. The wet linen smacked against the table. “No doubt, he lost the land gambling.”

Camy lurched off the chair with a yelp, her hand pressing against the wound. “He wouldn’t. He promised. Besides, Mr. Murray doesn’t seem to be the gambling type.”

“And what do gamblers look like?” Ellie tossed.

“Miller,” she said without thinking. The young man who’d once been a friend had since gained shadows beneath his eyes and hard lines of worry creasing his mouth.

“That just goes to show you that you shouldn’t trust a man’s words.” Ellie scrubbed the table with a greater force than normal. “Not a Northrop’s, not a stranger’s and most definitely not Hamish’s. Who knows what he does while he’s gallivanting about leaving us here to fend for ourselves?”

“Our uncle may have left us at times, but he’s never broken his word to us, Ellie. And he wouldn’t gamble. He’s too tight-fisted with his purse.” Camy once again slumped onto the chair.

Ellie knew Hamish would never do such a thing. She had to. If she wavered and began believing the worst from their uncle, then Camy’s faith in him would begin to waver too. Was it possible he thought marriage was the only way to keep her and her sisters safe? With Mara too young, Camy knew she was the obvious choice to sacrifice for her sisters, especially since Ellie’s heart remained bruised from Benjamin Northrop’s rejection. “You didn’t have to send Mara for Northrop. You’ve tended all our scrapes and cuts thus far and we’re still alive.” With Dr. Northrop and his three sons practicing medicine, they had no way of knowing who would arrive. Camy didn’t relish Miller treating her. Especially if Mara told him about Duncan, but for Ellie’s sake she prayed Benjamin was nowhere close. And, no doubt, Hamish would shoot the elder Dr. Northrop once he crossed onto the Simses’ property before asking questions ending years of disagreement between the two old men.

“A bullet is quite another thing, Camy. How did you get shot anyways?”

Even with the burning in her shoulder, Camy almost laughed. “Entirely by accident.”

Ellie did laugh. “All of your mishaps are entirely by accident, dear sister.”

Camy recalled the last incident when Hound took off after Uncle Tommy, her pet hen. The poor, one-legged gal nearly lost her other leg when she became tangled up in Camy’s skirts. Somehow she was able to save the hen, but not without injury to her own shin. It wouldn’t have been so terrible if she hadn’t have been heading out to chop branches. Good thing Ellie excelled with a needle, leaving tight stitches and little scarring. Miller didn’t need another reason why one of the Sims sisters needed a husband. Particularly him, to particularly her. If she were to wed Duncan, she would no longer have to concern herself over Miller’s endless pursuit. She had no idea which would be the better of the two. Wedding a wastrel of a man who tried to dominate her with a heavy hand, or a man who would one day leave her broken just like her father had done?

“Sometimes I wonder if you enjoy having the Northrops over.”

Camy’s eyes grew wide. “Absolutely not! Besides, Mr. Murray carried the rifle and the bucket of water. I tried to warn him about the trap, but he didn’t listen.”

“He doesn’t seem like the kind of man to take orders kindly.” The table groaned under Ellie’s scrubbing.

“Orders?” She had been quite rude to him, and she had demanded he stop when she could easily have told him about the trap. She wouldn’t be sitting here wounded, and Duncan wouldn’t be out coveting her land. Camy glanced at the weathered door and wondered if he’d decided to return to where he’d come from. Disappointment tickled her nose, as she’d like to interrogate the man Hamish had chosen for her. Was he a farmer or just a man hoping to tame the wild countryside? It was just as well, even if she worried over his shoeless feet and the bumps on his head. “I clearly thought to warn Mr. Murray, not give him orders.”

“As I recall—” Duncan’s voice rumbled into the cabin. A brisk wind blew in with him, proving the morning’s warm spring rain had given way to the cold.

Camy eased to a proper sitting position, careful not to cause any more discomfort than she already experienced.

“—you demanded me to stop.” Duncan Murray’s shadow loomed over her as he moved closer, quickening her pulse. The smell of rain and freshly churned earth danced around her with each of his movements. She’d make a year’s worth of pies to have her spectacles at this moment, to see the contours of his hardened jaw, to see how the rain fashioned his russet curls. Camy’s cheeks warmed as she sensed his gaze on her.

“I could not find Hamish.” He laid the rifle on Ellie’s clean table and received an irritated huff from her sister. “Where would you like the bucket of water?”

“Right here is fine.” Ellie snagged the rifle, her skirts swishing across the room. Camy heard it settle on the rack beside the door, and then Ellie once again began scrubbing the table.

“Don’t mind her. Ellie doesn’t like the Northrops and one of them is on his way.”

“I don’t dislike them, Camy. Well, not all of them.” Ellie’s voice softened to a near whisper and the scrubbing abruptly halted.

“Anytime we need a doctor, Ellie scours every nook and cranny.”

“Which seems to only be when Camy has an accident. I’ve considered sending her to live with the Northrops to save us all the bother.”

“I would never forgive you!”

“I know. And I would never wish it on anyone, not even Levina Smith.”

Camy smiled at Ellie’s teasing. Levina had done all she could to turn the eye of at least one Northrop, particularly Ellie’s former beau. “No doubt, Levina would enjoy residing with the doctors.”

“Does she have accidents often?” Although Duncan spoke to her sister, Camy sensed his gaze on her.

“Not Levina.” Camy giggled. “Never once have I seen her falter. She glides across the floor with the grace of a queen and sips her tea without an unladylike slurp.”

Certainly jealousy hadn’t taken a foothold in her thoughts. Not of Levina. Just because Camy couldn’t walk across the room with stacks of books on her head didn’t mean anything. There were plenty of things Camy could do that Levina could not. Embroider without poking a finger, cook and plow a field. Those were practical things, things that would allow Camy independence to survive without a husband, not foolish things like useless chatter about the latest fashions and the weather that caused a man’s eyes to cross and his mind to go numb in utter boredom. “Did I mention Levina bats her lashes in precise intervals?” Camy blinked and counted the required one, two count and blinked again for effect.

Duncan burst into laughter and then cleared his throat. “Exact intervals? Do ladies have a book for such things?”

“That, Mr. Murray, is a secret best kept.” Ellie’s mood lightened. “Besides, we’ve only heard tales of such a book.”

“Tales spun by Mrs. Smith and her daughters,” Camy mumbled beneath her breath.

“To answer your question,” Ellie continued, “Camy does have a way of finding trouble when none should be had.”

“Like today?” Duncan chuckled.

“Yes,” Ellie answered. “Although I must say this is a first, as I’ve never recalled her having an accomplice.”

“That is not so.” Camy dipped her head to hide the embarrassment staining her cheeks as she recalled the time her sisters talked her into climbing a tree. “What about the time you told me Red had climbed the tree and couldn’t get down?” She glanced at Duncan. “Red was an old tomcat, so old we made up stories about how he’d been on the boat with Noah. He couldn’t climb over a pebble, let alone up a tree. In my worry, I never once thought my sisters were telling a tale.”

“Oh, we weren’t. I promise. Red had climbed the tree like a spry wildcat. Of course that was after Mara had dunked him in the water bucket to give him a bath. How were we supposed to know he’d gotten himself down while we fetched you?”

“It sounds as if you’re quite the adventurer, Camy.”

“Quite.” Ellie laughed. “The exact reason the Northrops visit us often.”

“At least, I’ll be saved the sight of whoever attends me, even if I have to suffer their poking.”

“Oh. I found these.” Duncan lifted her chin with the pad of his thumb and then brushed the tips of her ears as he settled her wire rims into place.

Camy sucked in a breath as the lines of his face and the dusting of his dark beard came into focus. Or was it from the warmth of his fingers as they curved around her ears? The dark shadow gracing the curve of his jaw illuminated the gold flecks vibrating in the bed of his moss-colored eyes. Dark-colored curls clinging to his brow and curling near his collar dripped droplets of rain. She could have stared at him for hours, learning every detail, as if he hadn’t already been branded into her thoughts. He’d make a fine husband. Too bad she would never be agreeable to the idea.

He glanced at her wound and then rubbed his palm over his prickly jaw. “My apologies for what happened at the creek. I should have listened to your warning.”

A flutter swirled deep within her chest, a desire to have a husband as handsome as him, to be a wife. A mother. Her thoughts trailed into dangerous territory. She’d be a rabbit thoroughly caught in a trap if she didn’t remove Duncan from her presence. A rabbit chasing a carrot never to be had. No doubt, Duncan had plenty of ladies vying for his attentions, ladies much more efficient at balancing books on their heads. “My th-thanks.”

She tore her gaze from him and stared at the fire. Her heart cracked a little with each snap of an ember. Her faults would keep her from finding a decent husband, just as they had kept her and her sisters from having a father to love them and protect them. It had been one of her many accidents that had propelled her father to rid himself of his daughters. Did Hamish think to buy her a husband with her land because she couldn’t find one any other way? Camy wasn’t foolish enough to believe loyalty could be purchased. It had never worked with her father on the rare occasions he’d visited.

Duncan nodded. “Your spectacles must have flown off before you started downriver. I’m just glad I found them.”

“I cannot marry you.”

“I know.” He opened the faded blue curtains Ellie had made from one of their old dresses and propped his shoulder against the frame.

“Then why are you still here?”

Looking at her, he held her gaze for a moment. “I keep my word.” He glanced out the window. “It looks as if you have company.”

“Most likely Mara with the doctor,” Ellie replied.

“By the looks of it, I’d say there is more than one man and they’re armed.”

Camy’s heart climbed into her throat and then dropped to her toes. “Thugs.”

She sprang out of the chair when she realized the possibility of the danger walking toward their front door. The room swam before her eyes and she pressed her palms against the table to gain her balance as Ellie grabbed hold of her arm to steady her.

“What, you think to take them on in your condition?” Ellie’s voice teetered on bitterness and Camy knew that if these men weren’t the Northrops, Ellie would have them moved from the farm before the sun set.

“I won’t let them intimidate us, Ellie.”

“Neither will I.” Duncan yanked the rifle from the rack and swung open the door.

“You can’t go out there!” Camy squeaked. Her heart pounded against her chest. Her ears began to roar. “You don’t know what they’re capable of doing. What they’ve done. What they said they’ll do if we don’t relent.”

Fear tugged at her insides. Nightmares of masked men and torches had plagued her sleep for months. Cruel jests toward her sisters and the threats made against her came crashing into her thoughts.

“If they intend harm, I’ll see them gone.”

“This is not your business,” Camy argued. She’d accused him of being one of them and he’d shown her kindness. He’d carried her from the river, up a steep incline. True, she didn’t want a husband. True, she had wished him gone, but she did not wish him dead, which was a certainty if he came between the Simses and the men who coveted Sims land.

He looked over his shoulder and straight into her eyes. “Until we decide things between us, it is.”