He’d abandoned her because he was a coward.

She’d tried to make excuses for him, but there were none to be made. The most courageous man she’d ever known was afraid to love. Well, to hell with him! she thought defiantly.

She felt pain; she wouldn’t deny it. The mere thought of living without him for the rest of her life was unbearable, but she refused to dwell on it. That would be the sure path to emotional collapse. So she stoked her anger against him, clutching it like a shield to her wounded heart.

“He’s not coming back, lass,” Ramsay said gently.

Jillian clenched her jaw and spun to face him. “I think I’ve figured that out, Ramsay,” she said evenly.

Ramsay studied her in stalwart stance. When she moved to leave, his hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. She tried to snatch it away, but he was too strong. “Marry me, Jillian. I swear to you, I’ll treat you like a queen. I will never abandon you.”

Not so long as there’s coin in keeping me, she thought. “Let go of me,” she hissed.

He didn’t budge. “Jillian, consider your situation. Your parents will be back any day now and expect you to wed. They’ll likely force you to choose when they return. I would be good to you,” he promised.

“I will never wed,” she said with absolute conviction.

His demeanor altered instantly. When his sneering gaze slid over her abdomen, she was shocked; when he spoke, she was rendered momentarily speechless.

“If a bastard quickens in your belly you may think differently, lass,” he said with a smirk. “Then your parents will force you to wed, and you’ll be counting your blessings if any decent man will have you. There’s a name for women like you. You’re not so pure,” he spat.

“How dare you!” she cried. The instinct to slap the smirk from his face was overwhelming, and she acted upon it reflexively.

Ramsay’s face whitened with rage, and the red welt from her blow stood out in stark relief. He caught her other wrist and pulled her close, bristling with anger. “You’ll regret that one day, lass.” He shoved her away so savagely, she stumbled. For an instant she saw something so brutal in his eyes that she feared he might force her to the ground and beat her, or worse. She scrambled to her feet and dashed for the castle on trembling legs.

“He’s not coming back, Jillian,” Kaley said gently.

“I know that! For God’s sake, could everyone please just quit saying that to me? Do I look dense? Is that it?”

Kaley eyes filled with tears, and Jillian was instantly remorseful. “Oh, Kaley, I didn’t mean to yell at you. I haven’t been myself lately. It’s just that I’m worried about … things …”

“Things like babies?” Kaley said carefully.

Jillian stiffened.

“Is it possible …” Kaley trailed off.

Jillian averted her gaze guiltily.

“Oh, lass.” Kaley wrapped her in her ample embrace. “Oh, lass,” she echoed helplessly.

Two weeks later, Gibraltar and Elizabeth St. Clair returned.

Jillian was torn by mixed emotions. She was elated to have them home, yet she dreaded seeing them, so she hid in her chambers and waited for them to come to her. And they did, but not until the next morning. In retrospect, she realized she’d been a fool to give her clever da any time to ferret out information before confronting her.

When the summons finally came, she shivered, and the last vestige of excitement at seeing her parents turned to pure dread. She dragged her feet all the way to the study.

“Mama! Da!” Jillian exclaimed. She vaulted into their arms, greedily snatching hugs before they could launch the interrogation she knew was coming.

“Jillian.” Gibraltar terminated the hug so quickly, Jillian knew she was in dire straits indeed.

“How’s Hugh? And my new nephew?” she asked brightly.

Gibraltar and Elizabeth exchanged glances, then Elizabeth sank into a chair near the fire, abandoning Jillian to deal with Gibraltar by herself.

“Have you chosen a husband yet, Jillian?” Gibraltar skirted all niceties.

Jillian drew a deep breath. “That’s what I wished to speak with you about, Da. I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She swallowed nervously as Gibraltar eyed her dispassionately. Dispassionate never boded well for her—it meant her da was furious. She cleared her throat anxiously. “I have decided, after much consideration, I mean, I’ve really thought this through … that I … um—” Jillian broke off. She had to stop warbling like an idiot—her da would never be swayed by tepid protests. “Da … I really don’t plan to wed. Ever.” There, it was out. “I mean, I appreciate everything you and Mama have done for me, never think I don’t, but marriage is just not for me.” She punctuated her words with a confident nod.