The Negotiated Marriage by Christina Rich

Author:Christina Rich
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-11-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Ye’ve done a mite bit of work here since I’ve been gone.” Hamish leaned against one of the reinforced gates holding the oxen and glanced around the barn. “Don’t look like a man who intends to leave any time soon.”

“I’ve been keeping myself busy awaiting your return.” Duncan settled a crate he’d found beneath several rusted wagon wheels on the ground and pulled out an iron skillet.

“Looks like I was wrong about you, Duncan.”

“How so?”

“Here I thought ye weren’t succeeding at wooing my niece.”

“I wasn’t exactly trying, Hamish. You know how I feel about marriage. Why would I court Camy when I don’t intend to make a real marriage with her? I wouldn’t want to get her hopes up and crush her.”

Although, recalling her tears after that sweet and tender kiss, he thought he might be too late.

Hamish pushed away from the gate and toyed with the various equipment pegged to the barn walls. “I say ye’ve had a change of heart.”

Duncan pulled out another skillet and a ladle from the crate. “What makes you say that?”

“This.” Hamish spread his arms out wide.

“I don’t understand.” Duncan focused his attention back to the contents in the crate. What seemed to be three books wrapped in oilcloth lay side by side on top of a case he would recognize with his eyes closed. He’d had a similar one as a child, one of the only luxuries he recalled given to him by his father. He removed the books and ran his fingers over the worn leather case before opening it. The once shiny lacquer covering the spruce wood had dulled where a chin had rested. Duncan gingerly took the violin from the velvet and set it against his shoulder. He plucked one string at a time and then picked up the frayed bow. His fingers danced over the strings as he brought to memory a time when all had been right as rain between his parents. He drew the bow over the catgut, a sharp note sang into the barn bouncing off the walls, electrifying his nerves as if he’d been struck by lightning. The violin nearly fell from his hands. He settled it back into the case and secured the lid.

Hamish’s shadow crept over him. “Ye play verra well.”

“It’s been many years. Since I was a boy.” Duncan’s father had given him a violin as a gift and had taught him to play while his mother sang. Those were fond memories, memories that had been buried by his father’s fits of rage.

“It was my brother’s, Camy’s da. He made it with his own two hands.”

“The craftsmanship is beautiful.” Even though he wanted to examine the instrument and hear it sing, he shoved everything back into the crate, right along with any good memories of his father. “Seeing the skillets, I thought the ladies could use some of the items in here.”

“I’ve kept his belongings hidden. Ellie and Mara Jean adjusted well to their father leaving. Camy never did.”

“I never did what?”

Duncan positioned himself in front of the crate.

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