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“Perhaps your grief enables you to speak the truth,” she said, her voice hardening. “You thought I had a hand in his death?”

Murdo shook his head. “No, I meant…” He hesitated, fighting the swell of sorrow. “It’s just… Ye can’t understand, Clara. I remember my da when he was a better man.”

“Spare me your pretty speeches!” she said. “But perhaps you’re right in one aspect. Your father was the better man. At least he didn’t try to hide his loathing for me and my mother, or his disgust of the women he violated.”

Marsaili burst into tears again.

“I’m sorry, Marsaili,” Clara said. “Let’s get you something to eat. Rest assured, you no longer have to endure anything more in this room. And neither do I.”

She shot Murdo a look of disgust, then exited the bedchamber, taking the maidservant with her.

Other than a light coloring of his cheeks, the doctor gave no sign he’d heard as he busied himself tending to Murdo’s father.

“I must tell the clan,” Murdo said. “And my brother—dear Lord, James !” He shook his head. “Poor James.”

“Master James will be a fine laird,” Joan said. “He’ll rule with a kinder hand than yer da. But he’ll need his brother more than ever.”

“Aye,” Murdo sighed, his heart aching at the thought of his brother bearing the burden. “James will have to take a wife now. But after last night’s humiliation caused by Clara’s—”

“No,” Joan said, her voice firm. “Do not say it, lad, much as ye wish to. I ken that yer da wanted James to marry—it is, after all, his duty to give the clan heirs. But last night, Mistress Clara acted out of consideration.”

“Consideration for whom?”

“Foolish lad!” Joan scoffed. “Do ye see nothing with those big green eyes of yours? Did ye not see the relief in yer brother’s eyes when the McCallum lass rejected him?”

“I saw only anger.”

“That’s because yer brother’s spent his entire life striving to gain yer da’s approval, if not his love.

” She glanced toward the bed. “Yer da’s now free from pain,” she said softly.

“Perhaps James will be free now also. But he’ll have need of ye.

” She glanced toward the door. “And it’s not only yer brother who needs ye. ”

Murdo shook his head. “My wife needs no one, Joan. She’s wild and free. I cannot tame her.”

“Why would ye want to? Isn’t it enough to just love her?”

Murdo glanced once more at his father’s form, his da’s advice echoing in his ears.

A wife is there to do her husband’s bidding, son. Ye’re not a real man if ye cannot tame yer woman.

Joan squeezed his arm, and the tender act unlocked the tears that stung Murdo’s eyes—tears for the man he’d idolized as a boy, the man his father could have been had he not placed his twisted ideal of honor above the happiness of his sons.

“Ye know it as I do, lad,” Joan said. “Master Angus’s heart was blackened near the end.

Mistress Clara didn’t know him when he was younger.

She only saw the harsh man he’d become when the burden of lairdship became too much to bear.

But ye’re free of that now. Ye and James can rule the clan as it ought to be ruled—with passion, kindness, and love. ”

Murdo patted the older woman’s hand. “Ye’re a good woman, Joan. The clan is fortunate to have ye.”

“And we’re fortunate to have that lovely young lassie ye’ve wed,” she replied. “She’ll give ye fine bairns who’ll rule over the clan after ye.”

“But James…”

“Trust me on this, lad—yer brother may be laird now, but ye’re our future, and I would ask ye to do one thing for yer Joan.”

“Which is?”

“Don’t make that lass any unhappier than she is now.

For all her wild ways, she’s brought kindness back into the house—a kindness that places others before herself.

Why else would she risk yer da’s wrath by persuading Shona McCallum to break off her engagement to James?

And why would she seek to comfort young Marsaili, who’s never had a kind word for her?

’Tis because she cannot see the pain of another without wanting to ease it.

But I ask ye this, Murdo McTavish—who does she have to ease her pain? ”

“She has me.”

“Have ye shown her, lad?”

“I made my vows.”

She shook her head. “Men! Ye think to win the love of a woman like Mistress Clara by plying her with empty promises? If ye love her, then ye need to show it. Or did ye only wed her for her fortune?”

“I went to the Lyon’s Den in search of a dowry, Joan. I’ve made no secret of that.”

“And wedding her made ye rich—not only in coin, but in what matters. Ye’d be richer still if ye loved her for herself. Tell me, why did she go to the Lyon’s Den?”

Murdo’s conscience squeezed at his heart. “To find a man who wouldn’t judge her for her past,” he said. “She went there because the man she’d fallen in love with had betrayed her trust.”

Joan nodded. “Then it’s time for that man to earn her trust again, for I’ll wager he loves her still.”

“Aye,” Murdo sighed. “He does. Forgive me, Joan.”

“Och, ye’ll be the despair of me!” she said. “It’s not my forgiveness ye should be seeking.”

Murdo nodded. His da might have ruled the clan, but Joan had more wisdom in her little finger than he had in his whole body.

“Go to yer wife,” she said. “Yer father has no more need of ye. I’ll see to Dr. Munro here.”

Murdo pulled the gray-haired woman into an embrace. “If women could rule the clan, ye’d make a fine laird, Joan.”

“Don’t speak such nonsense, ye great, lumbering fool!” she said, slapping him on the arm. “Now, be off with ye.”

He kissed her on both cheeks, and she wriggled free.

“None of that, lad—save it for yer wife.”

“I intend to.”

He was a coward—a witless coward—for placing his father’s ideal of honor over his wife’s happiness.

He loved Clara, of that he was in no doubt. Now, at last, he could express it freely and without restraint.

His body tightened at the prospect of loving her as she deserved to be loved—in their bedchamber, on the hearthrug, against the hard stone walls of the great hall…

And out in the open, among the heather, while the birds circled overhead, catching their cries of pleasure as he brought her to exquisite ecstasy.

Tempering the surge in his heart and his manhood, he exited the chamber—without a backward glance at the man who’d held his soul prisoner—and went in search of his wife.