Page 10 of The Lyon’s Lass

Her husband nodded. “Aye, I’ll take you in my carriage. I’ll need to see to the dowry.”

Right. Because he’d wed her only because of the funds she brought to the marriage. She didn’t know why that fact made her throat burn, for she’d known exactly what she was getting when she’d accompanied Caroline to The Lyon’s Den. A husband who needed money and was willing to marry a stranger to get it.

Iain walked beside her as they went out the front of the building. Maisy was shocked to see Caroline was still waiting.

“Maisy,” she called. “Did it work?” Caroline came closer and then frowned up at Iain. “Oh, my. He’s the man who you—”

“Yes. I’m aware,” Maisy said, hoping not to bring up her disgrace yet again.

“A pleasant coincidence,” Caroline said with a forced smile. Maisy tried and failed to answer with a smile of her own.

She was too worried about what would happen to her now. She was married to a stranger, which she’d always assumed would happen if she ever married. But this man was a sea captain and a Scot, with a full beard and the keen-eyed glare of a beast. Surely he would slit her and Jack’s throats and throw them overboard to the sea creatures.

She let out a breath and hugged Caroline firmly.

“I will write to you when I’m settled in Scotland with Jack. Thank you for your help.”

Caroline had turned weepy. “You’re going all the way to Scotland? I shall never see you.”

Maisy patted her friend’s belly. “I think you will soon have other things to worry over besides me and my brother. We’ll stay in touch through letters.”

Caroline nodded bravely and wiped away her tears.

Iain was waiting by the door of the carriage for her when Caroline released her. He helped her into the conveyance and then tapped on the roof. They were instantly jerked into motion, heading for the home that was no longer hers. Heading into her future.

Iain may have suggested they wait until morning to call upon her house, but he wanted to get this trip underway. He wouldn’t rest until her dowry was paid, and he was back on The Rue.

Still he felt a tinge of shame as she entered her home and stirred the house to wake. He waited in the drawing room off the foyer while more and more servants passed by carrying trunks and bags out to his carriage.

The loud wail of what sounded like a small child echoed around the house, but when Iain stepped out of the room he found his wife arguing with a man nearly as tall as himself.

He shook his head quickly. “No,” he said, the single word sounding mumbled. Then he said “No” a few more times.

“Jack, you need to get your paints if you want to take them to Scotland with us. There will be many things for you to paint there.”

Again the man shook his head. When Madelene turned toward him the man did as well, and Iain saw the person his wife was arguing with wasn’t yet a man, but almost. He hadn’t needed a razor quite yet, but there was the shadow of hair on his chin that spoke of his age.

His eyes, the same color as his bride’s narrowed on him and he moved his hands around furiously.

“Yes. This is my new husband. He is a captain and has a ship. We are going to get to ride in it.”

“Why?” the boy asked, again the word not coming out clearly. Iain might have thought he was drunk but his movements were not dulled in the slightest. Instead, his hands flew in sharp mannerisms toward his sister.

Iain thought to step in to protect her, but it was clear from her reaction she was not frightened by him.

“Please. I will explain everything when we are underway. You must do as I say. Do you trust me?”

The lad stopped short and then after a few quick breaths he nodded and turned for the stairs. Madalene relaxed as Jack took the steps two or three at a time and stomped down the hall.

A different man came down the stairs, and grabbed Madelene’s arm.

“What are you about in the middle of the night?”

For all the ease his wife had displayed with Jack, it was evident she was afraid of this man. Who looked to be another relative if his golden eyes were any indication.

“Nels—ow, you’re hurting me.”

“I will only ask you once to take your hands off my wife,” Iain said, coming to Madelene’s side. Iain towered over the man in his nightshirt with the rumpled hair.