Page 56 of A Tartan Love (The Earls of Cairnfell #1)
“Precisely as you requested, Isla. I made a terrible mistake , you said. One I have regretted for years now .” He parroted her words in a dreadful falsetto.
“You begged me to absolve your marriage in such a way that no one would ever know it had occurred. Once my temper had cooled sufficiently, I saw the wisdom in your request, much as it pained me. I cannot stomach an alliance with the Balfours, nor do I relish weathering the scandal of your divorce. So I acted on your behalf.”
A ringing started in Isla’s ears. “But the sheriff? The witnesses?”
“The good doctor and his wife passed away a few years ago. We were fortunate there, I must say. As for the sheriff . . . a careful review of his records will show no mention of your nuptials nor any copy of your vows. I assure you, I was very thorough.”
“But—”
“But nothing. That document”—he pointed toward the fire—“was the last scrap of proof of your terrible mistake —again, your words—and I wanted you to see it burn with your own eyes. You are, thankfully, once more Lady Isla Kinsey, with no known connection to Tavish Balfour.”
Isla gasped for air, as if winded from a blow to the stomach. And in a sense, perhaps she was.
Her marriage had . . . evaporated. Ephemeral as dandelion fluff in the wind.
She looked between the fire and Gray’s smug, triumphant face.
“But . . . but what if I’ve changed my mind?”
“Changed your mind?”
Isla lifted her left hand to show him the gold band gleaming there.
“Yes!” She pointed to her wedding ring .
“You cast me out, Gray! You left me with Tavish. And unlike you, he provided for me. He cared for me when no one else would. Why would you think you could treat me so callously, dissolve my marriage, say nothing to me of your plans, and then present the whole as if it’s some grand thing you deserve a biscuit and a pat on the head for doing? !”
Given the way Gray’s nostrils flared, Isla had the distinct sense that she had, perhaps, gone too far.
It was likely her comment about the biscuit.
“Let me be very clear, Isla,” Gray began, the eerie calm of his voice a terrifying contrast with the anger blazing in his eyes. “I will not have you undo my efforts.”
Isla raised her chin, but as her lips trembled with the force of her nerves, she feared she looked more foolish than brave.
“I don’t wish my marriage to Tavish Balfour to be absolved.”
Gray laughed, so caustic and sharp, Isla couldn’t suppress a flinch.
“Is that so?” He walked toward her. “I never took you for such a simpleton. Do you truly think I will permit all this work to be for naught? You will not pollute our family’s legacy with your base blood and poor decisions.
I will not tolerate a Balfour as an in-law.
You will marry a more suitable gentleman, one who will enhance our family reputation, not tarnish it. ”
“No.” Isla lifted her chin. “I prefer the husband I already have.”
“Have you heard nothing I just said?”
“I heard you. I simply reject your words.”
“I have assisted you in what—”
“No! You do not get to ignore me and then make decisions about my life. I am not the mouse to your cat. You cannot bat me about like some toy!”
“Bah! I will not—”
“NO!”
Anger surged upward within Isla. The fury of a woman who, year after year, swallowed her emotions and desires. One who smiled and curtsied and chose compliance over and over. A girl who had given loyalty and, once upon a time, affection to the man before her and received none in return.
She stalked toward her brother.
“Piers George William Ashton Kinsey, I am a person of worth!” She poked a finger into his shoulder, punctuating her words.
“You can rage and threaten me, but I am not beholden to you. I am my own woman in every legal sense. I love—” Her voice broke, emotion thick.
“I love Tavish Balfour. He is the most honorable, loyal, kind man I have ever known! A thousand times the man you are, and I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life at his side!”
“If you remain with that man, you will never see a farthing from the dukedom. You will be dead to me!”
“I know! I know all this, Gray!” Isla waved her hands in a circle.
“You already tossed me out of a carriage and left me to a life of destitution, remember? And Tavish was there to pick me up. To lift me into his arms and promise to help. Because that is what a man does when he loves someone! I would rather spend the rest of my life working beside the man I adore than trapped in a loveless gilded cage.”
He folded his arms. “Isla, I—”
“Anger blights your life, Gray. Anger toward me, toward our mother, toward the Balfours. I once loved you with my whole heart. But your cruelty and harsh words trampled that affection to dust.”
Gray looked away at that. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
Isla turned for the door. “I fear for you. If you cannot stem this blind hatred, it will cost you everything.”
His nostrils flared, that same muscle in his jaw tensing. He still refused to look at her.
“You are hysterical,” he scoffed, tugging on his cuffs.
She ignored his insult. “I will pack my things, say my goodbyes to Matthias, and be gone by morning. I anticipate that you and I will never speak again. Goodbye.”
“Isla.”
She paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked back at Gray. He stood rimmed in window light, half his face cast into shadow, eyes glittering gold. A towering thundercloud of a man. A tawny lion eager to pounce.
“You think to disobey me?” He walked toward her, steps slow. “But I assure you, you will not like the consequences that—”
“Go to hell, Gray.”
She slammed the door behind her with a deafening crash.