come for her.
Frederick stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Aggie, would ye like us to leave so that ye might speak to yer father alone?”
“Aye,” she replied. “But I’d like ye to stay.”
Elsbeth and Rebecca said nothing as they left the room. Aggie soon realized the wind had died down, the rain was nothing more than a soft patter against the stone walls. Even the roaring fire had settled down to a subdued crackle. A sense of calm filled the room.
Frederick remained behind his wife with one hand on her shoulder. Though she was no longer the meek and timid woman she had once been, she felt stronger whenever her husband was near.
Douglas began to grow uncomfortable; he found the silence maddening. “We have much to talk about, ye and I.”
“Aye, we do,” Aggie replied.
“Where should we begin?” he asked. Aggie took note of the trepidation in his tone.
She decided to ask the one burning question. The question that had kept her awake at night. “Why did ye never come fer me?”
Douglas paled ever so slightly. “I did. Once.”
Aggie raised a doubtful brow.
He let loose a heavy breath and rubbed a hand across his jaw. “When yer mum told me she was with child, with me child, I begged her to leave Mermadak. She refused. She said ’twas yer legacy, yer destiny to someday take over the McLaren lands. No matter how I begged and pleaded, she refused to take that legacy away from ye.”
Aggie’s brow drew into a fine line of puzzlement. She remained quiet and still.
“I came once, after ye were born. She was visiting her family when her time came. She refused to allow me to see ye, not even a glimpse. She also refused to go away with me. ‘Nay ,’ she told me. ‘I’ll no’ take away me child’s birthright. I’ll no’ give up McLaren lands. ‘Twould be a disrespect to me mother and father and those who came before me. I’ll no’ have me child raised as illegitimate, scorned and looked down upon because her parents are no’ married.’” His voice trailed off at the memory of that fateful night, when he had begged and pleaded to no avail.
Aggie looked to Frederick. “Was that in her journals?” she asked.
He gave a slow shake of his head. “Nay,” he answered. “But that does no’ mean it did no’ happen as he says. She did write frequently about yer birthright, and how she looked forward to seeing ye take over someday.”
Turning her attention back to Douglas, she asked, “Ye tried once, then forgot about us,” she accused him. “All those years of livin’ in a hell on earth, and never once did ye inquire about me.” Suddenly, she felt angry. Only once did ye try to take me away. Once. Why no’ more?
Douglas fell to his knees before her, wounded by her accusations. “Nay, lass, nay! ’Twas no’ like that, I swear it.” Taking her hands in his, he pleaded with her. “I wrote to yer grandminny, at least once a month. She was the only connection to ye that I had. Andoreen, she told me ye were doin’ well, that Mermadak had no idea ye were no’ his. She said he treated ye like a princess and that I should no’ worry over ye.”
Aggie withdrew her hands from his and shot to her feet. “A princess?” she asked, eyes wide and mouth agape. Years of anger sprang loose, uncontainable, as were her tears. She began tugging at the laces of her dress. “Would ye like to see how he treated me?” she spat. “Would ye like to see the scars on me back, left by his hands?”
Frederick stopped her, taking her hands away from her laces. He pulled her to his chest. To Douglas, he said, “I fear ye were lied to, Douglas. As I told ye before, Mermadak was far from kind to me wife. God has yet to allow man to create a word that aptly describes his horrid mistreatment of Aggie.”
Slowly, Douglas stood, his shoulders slumped, his heart breaking with each tear his daughter shed. “I still have Andoreen’s letters.”
* * *
I n less than half an hour ,