Page 75 of Her Reluctant Highlander Husband

The second day gone since Dorie had left him.

Nay, that wasn’t right. She hadn’t left him. He’d let her go. She would have stayed if he’d but asked. If he’d begged her to remain his wife. If he’d only tried.

Lach raised his hand, palm out. “Before you think me cruel, know that I’m asking this with your best interests in mind. For years I’ve seen you—a shadow of who you once were—haunting our lives like a wraith, but not really living. Sure, you’re there next to us in the flesh. Through marriages and children born. As well as battles won and lost. But you’ve not truly been a part of our lives since Maggie died. You keep to the edges of our lives. You never hold my boys, or Lizzy or Aiden.”

Bryce tried to swallow the lump that had grown in his throat, but it wouldn’t budge. “I would lay down my life in protection of any of your wee hellions.”

“I don’t doubt it for a minute. But what sacrifice is that from a man with no life to forfeit?”

Bryce choked and swiped at his eyes. “You ask too much.”

“I don’t think so. You’re stronger than you think.”

“I’m not.” Bryce shook his head, turned abruptly, and left.

The damn dog followed on his heels, but he wanted to be alone.

“Go away!” he yelled when he’d regained his voice.

The dog ducked his head but continued to walk behind him as he stomped through the forest at the edge of the village.

“Leave! Get!” He waved his hands, which caused Rascal to retreat only a few feet.

When Bryce sat on a log by a stream, the dog stayed back and sat down to wait.

“I don’t need you following me about, making me feel worse.” He turned to see if his words had done any good, but naturally the dog remained. “Christ. I should never have let her make you into a pet. You were supposed to keep her company, not pester me to death.”

Good God. Was he so in need for a place to put his rage that he was yelling at a poor dog?

He let out a breath and let his head hang in his hands. “It’s too late,” he muttered. “She’s gone.”

He felt the hot burn of tears a moment before the wetness dripped off his jaw. He wiped them away with the heel of his palm, but more took their place. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gave up and let them come.

Until he felt moist breath on his face and grimaced at the foul odor. Opening his eyes, he found himself face to face with large brown eyes framed in gray fur. The dog nuzzled under his arm and sat as close as physically possible. Bryce chuckled through his tears and wiped them away once more. He scratched Rascal behind the ears and patted the dog’s sturdy shoulder.

After he’d collected himself, he stood and swatted his thigh. “Come. We’ve things to do. What’s done is done. Best we both move on.”

…

After days of bumping along in the carriage, Dorie actually found herself wishing she could curl into a corner of a room alone with a book—something she’d never thought to want ever again after her isolation as a child.

She enjoyed her father’s company. She loved hearing his stories and seeing the way his lips pulled into a smile when he spoke of her mother. But she was always grateful when they stopped for the night at an inn where she could be quiet and still for a little while. And alone.

Sleep had been elusive during their journey. She’d always spent the nights tossing and turning, wondering if she’d made the right choice.

It was midday when they arrived at her father’s country estate in Durham, England. As she stepped out of the carriage with her father’s assistance, a group of people hurried out of the house to greet them. A handful of them were children who came running and screaming in excitement for her father.

“Papa!” they all called and crowded around him. He was smiling as he bent to hug and kiss them all.

He had spoken often of the children on the journey, so she could guess their names by their ages.

“I missed you,” the littlest girl said in an accusatory tone. She must be Geneva.

“I’ve missed you as well, button. Have you been a good girl?” he asked.

“Of course not,” the little boy beside her said as if the idea was preposterous. No doubt this was George.

“And what of you?”