She straightened her spine and lifted her chin, demanding of him, “Why?” It was her right to know why he should change his mind. She wanted to believe he’d had a change of heart, but it was more like to be that he’d finally found some use for her.
He peered at the ground a long moment, and then again met her gaze. “The truth?”
“Aye,” Page answered. “The truth.”
“I did not believe you were my daughter. I thought you were Henry’s bastard, conceived by my wife.”
Her brow furrowed. God’s truth, she should have been shocked by his revelation, but wasn’t. “I see,” she said, and tried to find some comfort in his explanation. She found it only angered her all the more. “And now?”
“Your mother is long dead. I cannot make it up to her.”
Page stood silent, listening.
“I never believed her, Page... but I confronted Henry at long last... when he came to take the boy. He swears to me that your mother was pure, and he never had carnal knowledge of her. I never believed her,” he said again. “And I took it out upon you. For that, daughter, you have my deepest regrets.”
Regrets? For a lifetime of disregard? For casting her mother away for a sin she hadn’t committed?
Page remained silent.
“I just could not see what she could possibly want with me when she had England’s king enamored of her, instead. I drove her away, Page. But I’ll make it up to you—I swear it! I shall find you a fitting spouse, and make you the lady you deserve to be!”
Page’s eyes welled with tears. He was saying the things she’d so longed to hear. As a child. What she would have given to hear them spoken then...
At this moment... they merely confused her. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do... nor did she seem to have a choice. Iain and his people had been generous enough to take her in, had embraced her these last days like one of their own... but only because her father had not wanted her.
And here he was, her father, willing and ready to take her home, it seemed.
“The MacKinnon’s bride is a lady!” someone suddenly proclaimed. Page turned and spied Broc stepping forward from the gathered crowd, his stance battle-ready. His expression, though obscured by the night’s shadows, was unmistakably angry and full of challenge. She wasn’t certain which she was more shocked by... the fact that he had claimed her as the MacKinnon’s bride, or that he’d come forward to defend her.
Her brows knit suddenly, as the reason for his indignation filtered through her. Jesu! Why hadn’t she caught the slur in her father’s words? She was a lady, indeed!
“Bride?” her father asked, oblivious to his own offense. “My daughter is no bride to this man!” His tone was contemptuous. “She will have better than a savage Scot!”
“Aye,” Angus argued, stepping forward, as well. “I say she is the MacKinnon’s bride!”
“Aye,” came a cacophony of voices from the gathered crowd. “She’s the MacKinnon’s bride!” and “She’s the MacKinnon’s bride, all right!”
Page could scarcely believe her eyes and ears.
“Is this true?” came a voice from the shadows.
Page searched out the speaker and found it belonged to a man still mounted upon horseback. He’d been watching quietly from a distance, and now seemed to be peering straight at her, waiting for her response... Nay, not her... She suddenly realized he was looking past her. She peered over her shoulder and found Iain standing guard at her back. He said nothing, seemed to be scrutinizing her, his eyes seeing only her, ignoring the surrounding crowd.
“My daughter is no bride to this barbarian!” her father contended. “He stole her from me, and I would have her returned!”
Stole. Returned. The words leapt out at her from her father’s tirade.
Her gaze snapped back to meet her father’s angry glare.
FitzSimon turned to regard the man on horseback. “I demand you command him to release her at once!”
“You demand?” the man asked from his vantage in the shadows.
“I did not come all this way to leave empty- handed,” her father raved. “Release her to me, or—”
“Or what?” the man on horseback asked.
“Or I—”
“Iain MacKinnon?” the horseman asked, dismissing her father suddenly. “What say you to this? Is this woman your bride or nay?”
Page braced herself for his reply. She closed her eyes.
“Why do you not ask my lady?” he suggested.
Page turned to look at him in shock. He merely smiled at her, saying nothing. He nodded, urging her to answer the inquiry. And in that instant she understood love in its purest form. It was unveiled to her as it never had been before.