Page 55 of A Tartan Love (The Earls of Cairnfell #1)

T he next few days were the happiest of Isla’s life.

She was well and truly Mrs. Balfour now, and she hadn’t a moment’s regret. Just seeing the wedding ring on her finger could set her cheeks to blushing.

Tavish . . . well . . .

He was precisely the attentive, affectionate husband her younger self had supposed he would be.

They lazed about in bed and took turns reading one another’s favorite passages from books.

They revisited the swimming hole along the River Northcairn and had such an astonishing encounter there, Isla flushed scarlet at the memory.

They spoke of their future and tried to make a plan out of the uncertainty.

“Perhaps Matthias would like to be an investor in our whisky scheme?” Isla asked over breakfast.

Everything had become our and we and us .

“Do ye not think he will be incensed by our marriage?” Tavish took a bite of porridge.

“Unlikely. Matthias is more . . . understanding than Gray.”

“Well, we will need funds, so it wouldn’t hurt to—”

A knock sounded on the large wooden door below.

“Ah. That must be a groom from Castle Balfour with the morning post.” Tavish threw down his napkin and disappeared down the stairs.

He reappeared a few minutes later, sorting through a stack of letters in his hand.

The bottommost letter made him frown.

“Tavish? What is it?”

“A letter to me franked by Grayburn.”

Tavish opened the letter, only to have a separate note tumble out. He scanned the lines of the letter.

“Grayburn knows ye be staying here with me at Cairnfell. He has discreet sources, he says. I am to give ye this.” He handed the note to her.

Isla took it with a lift of her eyebrow.

Gray’s lines were brief and to the point.

Isla,

I require your presence at Dunmore immediately. Tavish Balfour is not welcome.

Gray

P.S. You will be pleased with what I have to say.

Tavish snorted as he read the note over her shoulder. “I do not believe for one moment that ye will be pleased with what your brother has to say.”

“Yes, it is unlikely.”

“This must be a trap of some sort.”

“Perhaps.”

Isla nibbled at her bottom lip, thoughts churning.

Tavish sat down in the chair beside her. “Ye be considering going to him.”

It was a statement, not a question.

Drat this man for knowing her so well .

“I will need to return to Dunmore for a short visit at some point. I would like to pack up my effects—books and gowns and such—and retrieve the jewelry left to me by my mother. Gray will not deny me these things. Moreover, this would be an excellent chance to speak with Matthias about the prospect of investing in our plans for Pennsylvania.”

“I agree with that ye need to return to Dunmore eventually, but I insist on being at your side when ye do.”

“My love, we both know that your presence would only make matters worse. Gray specifically said you are not welcome. I do not want to give him an excuse to have you arrested.”

“Grayburn might hurt you.”

“Tavish, Gray has said the most hurtful, vile things to me over the years—he has battered my heart and soul—but never once has he laid a hand upon me physically. I do not anticipate that will change. But I would not put it past him to harm you should you accompany me.”

“He can try.”

“Tavish—”

“Grayburn will attempt to pry us apart.”

“How? He cannot force us to divorce. We are married, thoroughly and utterly.” Her cheeks pinked as she spoke.

Tavish watched her blush spread, a smile tugging at those pillow lips she loved so well. “Recalling our exploits in bed this morning, are ye?”

“Hush!” She pressed a cool hand to her face. “Ye needn’t be so smug.”

“And that’s the thanks I get for my exertions? I do believe the words ye used earlier were magnificent and remarkable .”

“Tavish!” Isla laughed.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I detest the thought of ye enduring something unpleasant when I am not there to aid ye.”

“I know. But please trust me. Gray may bluster and rage, but his words no longer have power to hurt me. In the end, he won’t hold me hostage or lay a finger on me.”

“I wish I could be sure.” He reached for her hand, thumb pressing into the wedding band there.

“Be at ease, Husband. Gray has no say over me in any sense, legal or otherwise. However, I would like to speak with him. I still have concerns about Malton Hill and how he will see to his responsibilities there once I am gone.”

“Do ye think Gray will neglect your people out of spite?”

It was a fair question.

“No. His quibble is with me, not the people of Malton Hill. His sense of honor will recognize that. My brother isn’t perfect, but neither is he a monster.”

Tavish snorted, clearly disagreeing with her.

“I shall leave this afternoon and send word from Dunmore,” she continued. “If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow morning, by all means, marshal your men and storm my family’s august halls.”

Tavish buried his face in her neck. “I don’t like this.”

“I know, my love.” She pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “All will be well. You’ll see.”

Isla stepped into Gray’s study.

Her brother nodded in greeting, face impassive. However, the tapping of his fingers against his thigh betrayed his irritation.

Granted, Isla’s behavior had been calibrated to needle him. Payback for the autocratic tone of his note to her.

Tavish had borrowed a small gig from Castle Balfour for Isla to drive herself to Dunmore. He accompanied her as far as the boundaries of Grayburn land.

“Return to me soon,” he had said, kissing her soundly. “Ye joked about me storming Grayburn’s palace, but I will do so without hesitation.”

Upon stepping through the front door of Dunmore, Isla had immediately requested a bath be drawn. This had been followed by an extensive toilette and rather sumptuous luncheon.

Only then, with her belly full and an elegant London day dress upon her person, did she present herself to her brother .

He was not amused.

Gray stared as she closed the door to his study with a polite snick .

“You wished to see me, Brother?” she said by way of greeting.

He pointed at the leather armchair opposite his desk. Isla lifted an eyebrow but dutifully took her seat.

Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together atop the desk. “You appear in better spirits than last I saw you.”

Isla barely stopped an eye roll. How like Gray. To toss her out on her ear, leave her sobbing and alone on a rural country road waiting for Tavish and Captain Ross to happen by, and then act as if they had merely been taking the air when next they spoke.

“Yes. I have rather sorted things.”

“Things like Tavish Balfour? I understand you have been staying with him at Cairnfell Castle, though thankfully, the news of your indiscretion is still well hidden.”

Isla didn’t dignify his verbal poke with a reply. “What is it you wished to say to me, Gray?”

He studied her for a long moment. Isla couldn’t discern what he was looking for, though his gaze did drop momentarily to the gold wedding band on her left ring finger.

As for herself, she felt different in Gray’s presence. In the past, there had always been a thread of anxiety in their interactions. A gnawing worm of worry. The never-ending fear that Gray could not be trusted and might, at any moment, broadcast her illegitimacy and set her adrift in the world.

But now . . .

Tavish glowed bright in her mind. Even though he wasn’t beside her, his strength and support buoyed her.

No matter what happened here with Gray, Tavish was hers.

“During our last conversation, you pleaded with me to assist you in unraveling the matter of your marriage.” Her brother leaned back in his chair.

“I did, but I no longer require your help.”

Gray continued to study her.

Silence.

Isla blinked first .

“Well, if that is all . . .” She pushed out of her chair, standing tall and turning for the door. “I shall pack my things, though I would like to discuss the needs of Malton Hill before I depart.”

She was reaching for the doorknob when Gray spoke.

“I have assisted you, Sister.” A pause. “With your marriage, that is.”

Isla pivoted back to him.

She said nothing, waiting for him to get to the point.

Gray rose from his chair and crossed to the fireplace and the cheery fire burning there. From behind the mantel clock, he pulled a folded piece of foolscap. Unfolding it, he held the paper upright, showing her its contents.

She recognized the paper instantly.

A trickle of foreboding slithered down Isla’s spine.

“My marriage vows.” She crossed to him, reaching for the paper. “How ungentlemanly of you to rummage through my effects and pilfer them.”

Gray lifted the paper high over his head.

Isla glared at him. She would not jump like an eager kitten to retrieve a favorite toy.

The paper represented the signed witness of her marriage to Tavish—one of two copies of the document. The good doctor had used the other to register their marriage with the sheriff.

“What is your point with this display, Gray?”

“Merely this.”

With two quick steps, Gray tossed the marriage lines onto the fire.

“No!” Isla rushed for the paper, but Gray snagged her arm, stopping her.

The paper burned in a bright pillar of flame.

Jerking her arm out of his hold, Isla turned to him.

“Whatever are you doing?!”

“Destroying the proof of your marriage, Isla. Just as you requested.”

Of all the—

“Gray, you cannot toss me out of a carriage in the middle of nowhere, abandon me to an unsure fate, and then act as if you give a fig what happens to me.” She gestured toward the fire. “That isn’t the only proof of our marriage! There were witnesses, not to mention— ”

“The sheriff’s registry, I know.” He spoke so calmly, so conversationally. As if they were discussing the weather. As if he hadn’t a single doubt as to the outcome of this conversation.

Isla stilled, a true stab of alarm racing across her skin. She took a step back.

“What did you do, Gray?” she whispered through lips gone numb.