Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Read Free Page A

said. Never had she met men so honorable as the Mackintosh men. Their word was everything to them.
    Just when she thought she had shed her last tear for Ian Mackintosh, new droplets began to fall. The more she thought on it, the more she believed it was her inability to carry a child that had changed Ian’s opinion of her. Mayhap, after seeing Frederick holding his first babe, it triggered something in Ian’s heart, leading him to realize that he did in fact want children of his own.
    Suddenly she found she no longer hated him with the ferocity she’d held only moments ago. How could she hold his desire for children against him? If anyone understood the ache of wanting something you could never have, ’twas she.
    Looking down at Ada, whose eyelids were growing heavy, her sorrow increased tenfold. For years now, she had convinced herself she would be happy helping other women look after their babes. Now, as Ada sighed sleepily, she realized that was not true. Nay, she wanted a babe of her own. In truth, it mattered not if she birthed the babe or adopted, she wanted a child, not only for precious moments such as these. She wanted a child she could help grow into a fine person and see his or her dreams someday come true.
    Ian had told her he was not opposed to adoption, if the chance ever arose. Something had to have happened to make him change his mind. But what? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer to that question.

    * * *
    A ggie stood tall and proud , waiting for the moment Douglas Carruthers would enter John Mackintosh’s private study. Two chairs sat facing one another in front of the fireplace. Over the mantle hung the Mackintosh crest with the words Touch not a cat without a glove carved around the image of a cat-o-mountain. On the opposite side of the room, in front of two tall, narrow walls, was the long table John used as his desk. ‘Twas all neat and well organized, much like the man himself.
    Behaving as if they were her personal guards, Elsbeth stood to her left, Rebeca to her right. Elsbeth kept a steady and warm hand on Aggie’s back.
    The air in the room suddenly felt cold, even though a fire roared in the hearth. The rain had returned, along with a strong wind that howled in through the fur-covered windows. It felt dark, ominous, as if the weather were foretelling what was about to happen.
    Smoothing out the skirts of her lavender dress with sweaty palms, Aggie took deep, steadying breaths. For years, she had worn her dark hair so it covered the nasty scar on the left side of her face. ’Twas a constant reminder of Eduard Bowie, the man who had raped her more than a decade ago. But earlier that morn, she had enlisted Elsbeth’s help in plaiting her dark lochs, unafraid now of letting anyone see her marred face. If the Carruthers was offended by her appearance, then ’twas something he would have to deal with. If those who loved her were unbothered by it, then it should not matter to him.
    “Ye look beautiful,” Elsbeth told her.
    “Thank ye,” she replied softly. Doing her best to untie the knots that had been forming in her stomach, she adopted the best air of nonchalance she could manage.
    Quietly, Rebeca slipped a hand into hers and gave a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “He will love ye, just as the rest of us do,” Rebecca whispered.
    Elsbeth agreed. “Of course he will. And if he does no’? It matters no’, aye?”
    Aggie lifted her chin ever so slightly. “Aye, it matters no’.” Her heart, however, wished for all the world that this meeting would go well. ‘Tis a meeting and nothing more. Yer life will no’ be changed significantly, regardless of his opinion of ye.
    A moment later, Frederick walked into the room. He bore a kind and happy smile, which brightened the moment he looked at his wife. Aggie knew she’d never tire of seeing his face or his smile.
    A heartbeat or two afterward, Douglas Carruthers stepped through the door.
    For the longest moment, they could