Page 7 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

“That way, she can decide for sure if she wants to marry him.”

“She has to marry him,” Ewan said sharply. “Everything has been prepared. The marriage contract has been signed. The banns have been read, the—”

“This is Scotland, laddie,” Uncle Callum said, waving a hand through the air. “We do not care about banns and contracts here. A marriage requires only the intention and a witness. It does not need all those fancy bells and whistles.”

“But—”

“Nor does it need them to break the engagement.”

Ewan felt his mouth go dry. “You think that Christopher means to break the engagement?” he asked.

Uncle Callum took a moment to pour himself another drink before responding. “I do not know,” he said at last. “But I do not think it bodes well for a happy marriage that he has run off to the Continent the week before.”

“I have to find him, Uncle Callum,” Ewan insisted, leaning forward. “I have to bring him back.”

“And what do you plan to do? Sail to Amsterdam and explore the brothels?” Uncle Callum shook his head. “If Christopher wants to come back in time, he will. If he does not, well…” Uncle Callum shrugged. “She will not be the first lady to be jilted. Although in time, she may come to be grateful that she was.”

“It will destroy her reputation,” Ewan said, but Uncle Callum did not seem to be listening.

“We really ought to be speaking aboutyourmarriage, laddie.”

Ewan gaped at his uncle for a full ten seconds.

“My marriage?” he repeated at last. He felt something wet on his hand and looked down to see that it was shaking so badly that some of the scotch had spilled onto it. He set the glass down quickly. “My wife is dead, Uncle Callum. Do not tell me your memory has eroded so much you have forgotten this?”

“I remember,” Uncle Callum said impatiently. “What I am saying is that you ought to marry again.”

Ewan’s jaw tightened. “I have no wish to marry.”

“I know you do not. You also do not seem to have much of a wish to live.”

“I beg your pardon—”

“You do not accept invitations. You do not attend balls and parties. You ignore every beautiful, bright young woman who bats her eyelashes at you. All you do is pour over the drainage systems of your estate.” Uncle Callum’s eyes were sharp and perceptive—too perceptive. And when he spoke again, his voice was low but firm. “You have buried yourself along with Margaret, dear boy. And it is about time that you brought yourself back into the land of the living.”

Ewan felt something hot burn in his throat and eyes that had absolutely nothing to do with the scotch. He looked down, unable to withstand his uncle’s gaze a moment longer.

“I must honor Margaret’s legacy,” he muttered. “I must not forget her. In staying true to her, I keep her alive.”

Uncle Callum tutted loudly. “You might tell yourself that, but I know it is not true. The woman was never a good wife to you. And you deserve better.”

Ewan stiffened, and when he looked back up, his eyes were blazing. “I would beg you not to say another word on the subject, in particular any words that would malign the memory of my late wife.”

Uncle Callum put his hands up, as if in surrender.

“Whatever you say,” he growled. “But I still think it is a better use of your time to concern yourself with your own future, rather than try to control your brother’s. Because that lad…” He shook his head. “He is untameable.”

Ewan was thinking about his uncle’s words the next afternoon as he made his way back toward Calder Castle. It had been a hard ride, and he had left early in the morning, but despite the dark mood that had settled over him since Christopher’sdisappearance, he couldn’t help but enjoy the solitude and beauty of the landscape around him.

The day was mild and blustery, gray and white clouds moving quickly above him in the sky, casting long shadows over the hills and mountains of green and red, the bluffs that rose up into the sky as if longing to touch the heavens, the deep valleys where streams and lochs glittered in the thin sunlight.

This was where he belonged: in the rugged wilds of the Highlands. He would never be tempted to run away to the Continent for a taste of freedom. For him, freedom was a long ride through these hills and mountains, a swim in the icy cold depths of the lochs, lying in his shirtsleeves in a field of heather, listening to nothing but the rustle of the wind through the leaves.

He was nearing Calder Castle now, and he knew he should return straight home, but as he approached the turn-off for his tenant O’Murphy’s land, he hesitated. The man had recently put in a new water channel that he had been longing to see.

Ewan reined in his horse, thinking. Really, he ought to get back. Lady Pembury and her daughter may have already arrived at the house, and he needed to get back to greet them.

Then again, a few hours wouldn’t make much difference, and the water channel was supposed to be particularly impressive…