Fergus’s gray eyes were alight with sympathy and understanding. Too much understanding, if you asked Diarmid. “I believe ye do.”
“She may no’ have me.” He wasn’t sure whether he spoke the words in despair or hope.
Fergus set his glass down on a side table. “If it means strengthening her hand with Christina, she’d marry ye tomorrow.”
“Aye, I know.” He felt trapped. Even worse, Fiona would feel trapped. “I dinna want to marry a woman who only takes me as a means to an end.”
A woman who might never accept his touch as a man. Especially when he had a horrible suspicion that his desire for her was a lifelong affliction.
Fergus looked somber. “I’d always hoped you’d find the same happiness in marriage that Marina and I enjoy.”
Diarmid grimaced as cruel reality overwhelmed him. This ending had been ordained since he’d ridden up to the Thistle. Good God, before that. From when he’d brought his mermaid back to the house after the shipwreck.
“I should have realized it would come to this.”
“Aye.” Fergus’s expression remained austere. “Of course, there are those who would argue the lassie is nothing to ye. Not kith or kin. A stranger. You’ve already done plenty for her. Making this final sacrifice asks too much of ye.”
Diarmid met his friend’s steady regard. “I’ve offered her my help. I’ve pledged my allegiance. As far as she trusts any man, she trusts me. I cannae leave her flat. And what becomes of her if I do? Ye and I both know the likely outcome if she runs off with Christina, without a shilling to her name and with nobody to protect her. She’ll find herself on the streets. And her daughter, too.”
“Aye. And that’s if she manages to winkle Christina out of the Grants’ clutches.”
“If she doesnae, she’ll end up either having to sell herself, or give up and marry Thomas. If they dinna kill her first. She hasnae said much, but it’s clear they’ve abused her. They’ll have a burden of anger to work off, now she’s put them to all this trouble. Damn it, but right from the start, I dinna see what else I could have done.”
“I dinna either. You and your infernal chivalry. It’s really got ye into trouble this time, laddie. You’ve always been a white knight.”
“Now I’m paying for it,” he said. “Worse, Fiona will pay for it.”
Fergus rose and clapped him on the shoulder. “Chin up, laddie. This tangle is still a mess of knots and snarls. There’s a gey lot of entangling yet to do. We’ll find our way in the end.”
Diarmid raised his head and made himself smile, although in his chest, his heart was leaden with foreboding. “Wish me happy, Fergus. I have a feeling I’m getting married this week.”
Chapter 19
The next morning, Diarmid knocked on the tower room’s door. He’d hoped to catch Fiona at breakfast, but she’d come down early then gone upstairs to help Marina with Eilidh. Kirsty opened the door and bobbed in his direction, before she headed downstairs on some errand. A new baby at Achnasheen meant people were always running up and down stairs.
“Diarmid, buongiorno,” Marina said with a smile, one hand tugging up the bodice of her dress while the other cuddled dark-haired Eilidh close. “Come in.”
He’d interrupted the baby’s feeding. Embarrassed, he hovered on the threshold, feeling he had no right to enter this purely feminine domain. “Marina, I dinna want to intrude.”
Fiona wore her borrowed blouse and plaid skirt and sat on the window seat. Her glorious hair was confined in a plait. The bright sun flooding through the windows lit her in gold and made her look like a princess, despite her humble wardrobe.
Diarmid bit back a groan. Right now, he didn’t need any more reminders of how bonny she was.
She was sewing something small and white for the baby. The smile she greeted him with was an uncomfortable reminder that he’d promised to do everything in his power to help her. Last night’s discomfiting discussion with Fergus had revealed just how far that promise extended.
“Good morning, Diarmid,” she said.
“Good morning, Fiona. It’s ye I’ve come looking for, actually. Would you care to join me for a walk in the rose garden?”
Marina shot him a sharp look, full of inquiry. He wondered if Fergus had told his wife about their conversation. He suspected his friend had. “First come and say hello to your goddaughter.”
Shock banished his conflicted feelings about what he was about to do. “Goddaughter?”
“Didn’t Fergus ask you last night?” She sighed with fond irritation. “Cavolo, we arranged that he was going to. Men!”
He and Fergus had had other business to cover in the library. But even that grim thought couldn’t altogether stifle his pleasure. “Are ye sure?”
“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have as my daughter’s spiritual guardian. Fergus and I already think of you as part of the family. This makes it official. I hope you’ll say yes.”