Page 16 of A Tartan Love (The Earls of Cairnfell #1)

Pain rose in Tavish’s chest—old and well-worn.

It had taken years for the agony of her loss to fade.

Endless nights spent staring at the ceiling or tent canvas or the sky full of stars, wondering if she had ever wavered in her disavowal of him.

If she would ever forgive him for his actions or repent of her own.

She clearly hadn’t.

He had mourned her loss and was now ready to move on to a new life—one no longer haunted by her shadow.

“Enough.” She scoffed, retrieving a handkerchief from her reticule. “I refuse to wallow in our shared past, Captain. We were both young and foolish and, therefore, behaved foolishly.” She swiped at her eyes. “It scarcely matters now.”

Tavish unclenched his jaw. He was rather sure it still mattered greatly, but he hadn’t the privilege of knowing her inner thoughts anymore.

He took a slow breath.

“So . . . Grayburn?” He returned them to their original topic.

“I am sure you understand why telling him has been risky. If I am cast out, I have no recourse and nowhere to go. Until this week, you were a continent away and completely unreachable. Your family certainly wouldn’t have taken me in—your father hates Gray just as much as Gray detests your father.

I did not wish to find myself tossed into the street without funds or friends. ”

“Surely Grayburn is not so heartless at that?”

“I haven’t dared to find out.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “All that to say, I must find the right moment to tell him. Wisdom is paramount in this instance.”

Tavish nodded. “I agree.”

She sat up straighter and her expression closed, shuttering all her fierceness as if it had never existed. As if she had met a quota for emotion for the day and refused to shed another tear.

When next she spoke, her voice was level. All business.

“This brings us back to my question: What is your plan at present, Captain?”

“I have been corresponding with a solicitor in Aberdeen. Thankfully, Scotland is much more forgiving on the topic of divorce than England. All it requires is a judge’s decision.

” Tavish resisted the urge to stare at her profile, to catalog every wee difference from her younger self and store it for later examination.

“My solicitor feels that a divorce on the basis of my desertion should not be difficult to obtain. We have never lived under the same roof, and I have never contributed to your upkeep. We will need to file the case and then endure the procurator fiscal asking difficult questions of us both. But I believe if we present the enmity between our families and my—” He paused, taking in a deep breath before saying what needed to be said.

“—my inability to provide financially for yourself, it should all come right.”

“Yes. I seem to remember that being your primary concern. You married me and then realized you hadn’t the wherewithal to keep me.”

“My circumstances, unfortunately, have not materially improved since then.”

“Perhaps you should opportune Gray to pay you off again.” She lifted her chin. “It worked so well last time, after all.”

So cutting, those words. So unlike the lass he had loved. It took all of Tavish’s strength not to wince.

“Isla—”

“Forgive me. That was rude.” She held out a gloved palm on a sigh. “Our past is behind us now. As you say, it should be a thing of naught to dissolve our union. It is not as if it were a true marriage in any sense of the word.”

Tavish swallowed .

He had scarcely kissed her after their vows, much less indulged in the more pleasant activities between husband and wife. Had Tavish known then, he might have insisted upon consummation. But no, they had both assumed there would be an entire lifetime for such things.

More the fool him.

In hindsight, though difficult, their immediate parting had been a blessing. Tavish assumed Isla was still a maid. That fact would temper Gray’s fury when the time came, as well as assuage any qualms a future husband may have.

“Once we have a meeting date set with the procurator fiscal, that would be the logical point to disclose our marriage to Grayburn,” Tavish said. “I am happy to be present when you tell him.”

Isla loosed a sharp huff. “I cannot imagine the conversation will go better for your presence. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Well . . . know that I am willing.”

“When do you think we will hear from the procurator fiscal?”

“I cannot say, as we have yet to file our case. I will be leaving tomorrow for a week or two, but I will call upon my solicitor to formulate a plan of action and ascertain the timing of dissolving . . .” He waved a hand between them.

“Oh. Leaving so soon?”

Tavish bristled at the scorn in her tone. How like you , it said. Barely arrived and already abandoning me.

This Lady Isla, angry and cutting, was new to him.

Well . . . perhaps not entirely new. He had seen this caustic side of her on that night seven years ago when they came apart.

“I apologize, my lady, if that upsets yourself—”

“Nothing you could do now would overset me, Captain.”

She stared straight ahead, jaw clenched, refusing to acknowledge the irony in her words.

“I have much to settle before quitting Scotland. I don’t wish to leave anything undone.”

“Quitting Scotland?” She turned to him.

“Aye. I’m shipping off to America.”

“Oh. ”

Tavish could see it in her eyes, the vague snap of interest, the wondering as to what he would do there.

He paused, curious if she would inquire.

She did not.

“Very well. I shall wait to hear from you, then.” Lady Isla stood, their interview at an end. “Good day, Captain.” She bobbed a curtsy, sparing him nary a glance as she pivoted and walked away.

Tavish watched her go—the sway of her hips, the upright lift of her head. He looked away before the flame he had long carried for her ignited in his chest.

Hopefully, a week spent with Ross and Fletch—hunting and discussing the details of their proposed venture in Pennsylvania—would see his head straight.

So when next Tavish saw Lady Isla, he would have forgotten all the reasons why he had loved her in the first place.