Highland Outlaw (Campbell Trilogy #2)(63)
Lizzie bit back a smile at Alys's expression. It was a wee bit romantic, but she didn't want to encourage her.
“Too bad you can't choose both,” Alys said wickedly. “But I don't think Patrick Murray is of any mind to share.” She shook her head. “Poor Robert will be disappointed.”
Lizzie shot her a glare. “What makes you think I want Patrick? Robert Campbell is the man my family has chosen for me to marry.”
Alys's eyes narrowed. “You don't love Robert Campbell.”
“I don't love either—”
Alys's sharp gaze cut off her protest. “Elizabeth Campbell, I've known you since you were a wee lass. Don't try to deny that you are in love with that gorgeous man.”
Lizzie blanched. Am I in love with Patrick Murray?
“You practically light up the moment he enters the room,” Alys continued, unaware of how thoroughly Lizzie was reeling. “And he's every bit as much in love with you as you are with him.” She shook her head. “Why is it that young people are so stubborn and foolish when it comes to matters of the heart?”
Lizzie didn't know what to say. Alys made it sound so simple. But it wasn't. It was complicated and difficult and tearing her apart. “Marriage has very little to do with the heart,” she said softly.
“Don't be ridiculous. It has everything to do with it. Don't let what happened with that poppycock ruin your chance for happiness. Would you marry a man you do not love?”
Lizzie twisted her hands. “I have a responsibility to my family. I'm in no position—”
“You've done enough for your family,” Alys said harshly. “They love you and want to see you happy.” It was exactly what Patrick had said. There was a fierce look on the older woman's face that Lizzie had never seen before. “I've never regretted for a moment my decision.”
Lizzie's brows wrinkled. “What decision?”
Alys pushed aside some of the gowns to clear a spot on the coverlet. She patted the space next to her for Lizzie to sit. “Did you know that my father is the Chief of Bu chanan?”
Lizzie's eyes widened. “I knew you were a Buchanan, but you've never mentioned that the chief was your father.”
“As a young girl, I was betrothed to Lord Aven, the Marquess of Hamilton's son.” Lizzie let out an audible gasp, which she tried quickly to smother, but Alys only smiled. “Yes, he recently inherited an earldom, I hear. As you can imagine, my father was less than pleased when I decided to marry a young, landless Campbell guardsman instead. But from the moment I first saw my Donnan at court with your cousin the earl, I loved him.” Her eyes sparkled. “Still do, as a matter of fact. And I've never regretted my decision for a moment.”
Lizzie stared at her for a long time. It had taken some real courage to do what she had done. “And your father?”
Alys laughed. “Oh, he was angry at first, but he eventually recovered from the shock. My younger sister married well. He does still enjoy reminding me of all that I have forsaken, and I figure the least I can do for all the years of happiness he's given me is let him.” Alys stood up. “Enough about me. That was a very long time ago. But if you aren't going to be late for dinner, we need to get you dressed. You'll need your pearls,” she said, going back to the ambry. “And the matching circlet, I think.” She pulled out a thin piece of gauze that matched the gown and could be worn in Lizzie's hair like a veil, then shook her head. “No. We want them to see your beautiful hair.” Her hands lifted the heavy blond waves and then let them tumble down Lizzie's back. “Your hair is glorious, Lizzie. You must show it to your advantage.”
“I'm not wearing that dress,” Lizzie protested, but as before, her words fell on deaf ears. Alys was already searching for stockings and underskirts thin enough to wear under the gown.
“Try this,” she said, holding out a thin satin underskirt. When Lizzie started to argue, Alys smiled sweetly. “Why don't we just see how that old dress looks on?”
An hour later when Lizzie left her chamber for the great hall, it was no surprise what she was wearing.
Patrick returned to the castle that night for the last time, his trip to the village having been for naught. Given what he'd decided, however, he was glad Gregor had yet to return from the Lomond Hills. He knew his brother wouldn't be as understanding as his men.
The guardsmen had taken the news of their leaving on the morrow with nary a word of protest. After today's events, they all realized they were living on borrowed time. Even Hamish had made only a halfhearted attempt to argue for taking Lizzie with them. It seemed the heart had gone out of their fight. Patrick was not the only one who'd fallen under the spell of Elizabeth Campbell. She'd charmed them all with her kind heart and serene beauty. He shook his head. Look at them now: a pack of ruthless MacGregor warriors brought to heel by a mere wisp of a lass—and a Campbell one at that.
His men had gone to the hall to join in the evening entertainment, but Patrick was in no mood for merriment. He returned to the barracks, welcoming the solitude. With only one more night to fill their bellies with food and drink their fill of the Campbells’ wine and ale, it would be a while before anyone returned.
He started gathering his meager belongings in a pile and then fitting them into the leather bags he would tie to his saddle. He'd been a fool to reject Campbell's gold. Pride wouldn't keep him warm or his belly full in the coming winter. He would see about procuring some food from the kitchens in the morning. It would need to last them a while—the ride deep into the Lomond Hills to find the rest of his clan might take some time. Though his mind was already on the road ahead of him, he hadn't figured out how he was going to say good-bye to what he left behind.