Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(22)

For the first time in Duncan's recollection his father appeared to be at a loss. His normally implacable expression was all too readable. He looked dumbfounded, aggrieved. “Whether the lass is agreeable makes no difference, other arrangements have been made.”

“What other arrangements?”

“The missive I mentioned. It was to propose an alliance between your brother and the lass.”

The blood slid from Duncan's face. “Colin?”

His father nodded. “He was quite taken with her.”

“How could he be? They barely exchanged three words.”

“Three words or a hundred, the offer has been made and cannot be rescinded.”

Duncan couldn't believe this was happening. “But if Grant hasn't agreed—”

“It doesn't matter.” A pained expression appeared on his father's face. He met his gaze unflinchingly. “Surely, you see why it would be impossible now.”

His chest burned. Duncan could see. Too well. Having the heir exchanged for a bastard would be perceived as an insult.

A sliver of what could only be termed resentment, something he'd never experienced before, wormed its way inside him.

He clenched and reclenched his fists at his side. He didn't care. He wouldn't give her up—not Jeannie. The thought of his own brother married to the woman he loved …

“You'll have to find another lass,” his father said, more gently than Duncan had ever heard him speak.

Duncan shook his head stubbornly. “There is no other lass.” His voice was hollow and ragged. He needed to make his father understand. “I love her.”

The flicker of compassion in his father's face was cold comfort. “I'm sorry.”

This was the last thing Duncan had expected. He'd always been able to count on his father's support. Always. “You can't do this.”

“It's already done.”

The cool finality of his tone set off a flare of anger inside Duncan. “You don't understand …”

All of a sudden his father did. Fury quickly drowned out whatever sympathy his father had just felt. He jumped to his feet, reached across the table, and grabbed Duncan by the edge of his leather doublet—his eyes as hard as ice. “What the hell have you done?”

Duncan wrenched away. He wasn't a lad anymore, ready to take whatever punishment his father dolled out. He wasn't proud of what he'd done, but neither would he be taken to task for it. “Nothing more than what is natural between two people who love each other and intend to marry,” he said evenly, not shrinking from the anger in his father's cold gaze.

“What the hell could you have been thinking?” The look his father directed at him was one Duncan had never seen before—of disappointment and disgust. “Obviously you were thinking with what hangs between your legs and not your head.”

“It wasn't like that.” But he knew it was.

His father slammed his hand down on the table with such force the room shook. “Call it what you will, but it doesn't change the fact that what you have done could well jeopardize everything we've been working for. I trusted you with an important mission and this is how you repay that trust?” Duncan's face went white. “Do you think Grant will join us if he discovers you have seduced his daughter? The king is counting on his support and if this war against Huntly fails because of this you can be damned sure who he will blame. You've dishonored yourself and this family.” His gaze chilled. “You've reached too high, boy.”

Duncan flinched, feeling as if he'd just been stabbed in the back by the person he'd trusted the most in this world. Bastard. Mongrel. Whoreson. Scoundrel. He thought of all the disparaging comments people had made over the years about his birth, but how it had never mattered because his father hadn't felt that way.

He was wrong.

His eyes pricked with heat. Furious, Duncan fought off the emotion. He was a man, and it was clear he had only himself to rely upon. He told himself it shouldn't matter. His bastard blood would not dictate his future, but it didn't dull the pain of having his father so brutally shove the shame of his birth down his throat.

Duncan straightened his back and squared his shoulders, summoning every ounce of his stubborn Highlander pride. He'd never let his father know how much he'd hurt him. “You do not need to remind me of the circumstances of my birth. I am well aware of my bastardy. It didn't matter to the woman I hoped to marry, I never expected it to matter to the man who made me so.”

He saw the flicker in his father's gaze and knew his barb had struck. Beneath his anger, Duncan felt a wave of sadness. Never again would he look on his father as his ally—his champion. Perhaps he'd been a fool to do so in the first place.

That which had been left unsaid his whole life had now been said, and it would never be the same between them again. He wasn't the equal of his brothers and sister. He was an outsider and always would be.

With a pained glance, Duncan turned on his heel and left.

Freuchie Castle, Moray, Two Weeks Later

Jeannie could barely contain her excitement as she moved about the Great Hall attending to the comfort of their unexpected “guests.”

Her heart fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. Duncan was here.

After two long weeks, she would finally see him again.