But he did not deserve such bliss. He'd lost her estate, and he would not pursue his husbandly rights again until he'd earned them by reclaiming Draughon.

***

Mid-morning the next day, Angelique opened the bedchamber window a crack to better see the view of the snow-covered Highlands. Bright sunlight gleamed off the white mountains and the shimmering loch reflected the blue sky, near blinding her. Tiny bits of ice and snow still flickered through the air. What a stark difference to the Lowlands of days ago.

It was a long way back to Draughon. Lachlan and several more men planned to leave two days hence. Imagining Lachlan being injured in a battle so far away from her wrenched her inside. What if he were to be killed and she never saw him again? She may as well die, too.

In the snow-whitened barmkin far below her, Lachlan stood talking to his brother. Secretly, she savored the sight of him. She had awakened this morn to find Lachlan sleeping in a chair by the hearth. He hadn't forced himself into bed with her—his bed, in truth. She was the outsider here. She felt vulnerable with a hundred questions hovering. How did he truly feel about her? She prayed he could learn to love her.

A woman, her belly large with child, ambled though the gates below. The lad of about five or six years broke away from her and ran to Lachlan. He picked him up, hugged him, and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. The child's laughter was sharp in the crisp air. His older son, surely.

Alasdair walked away and the pregnant woman approached Lachlan. Angelique tensed, waiting for an emotional blow. But Lachlan didn't touch her, even after he set the lad to his feet. He merely talked to her in a low tone for several minutes. He dug into his sporran, took something out and gave it to her. Coins. Dear Lord, that woman was carrying his child. Again.

Nausea rolling in her stomach, Angelique closed the window and pulled the thick curtain over it, making the room dark again. Who had she married? A man who wanted a harem? Angelique had done the most idiotic thing on earth and fallen in love with her rogue husband.

Several minutes later, she sat before the fire when Lachlan opened the door and entered the chamber.

"Are you well?" he asked.

She could not look at him; it was too painful. "Oui. Why would I not be?"

"Gwyneth said you were resting. I thought you'd be asleep."

"I do not take naps," she snapped, then realized she sounded like an irritable child.

"What's the matter?"

Her stomach knotted and a bit of her pain and rage crept out. "So, you are to be a father yet again?"

"What?"

"I saw you talking to her." She motioned toward the window.

"Och. Nay, the bairn she carries is not mine. I haven't been with her in years."

"Did you give her money?"

"Aye. For my son, and her. For clothing, food."

"And, of course, you have plenty of money now." She felt bitter and hateful even as she said the words. But it was true; he'd married Angelique for her money and estate.

He remained silent for a long moment. "Would you have them starve or wear rags?" His tone was not angry as she'd expected, but resigned.

She did feel sorry for them, other victims of Lachlan's irresponsible escapades. "Of course not." But did that mean her money should provide for them?

"I am bringing my sons home with us soon, once we have Draughon back."

"What?" She felt as if he'd struck her. Her gaze flew to him and his determined expression.

"Aye. I miss them. Kean's mother was killed. He has been living here at the castle. Alasdair and Gwyneth provide excellent care for him, but I want to care for him. Both of them. I've never had the opportunity before. You wish me to be responsible, so I will be. I want to be."

She admired him for that. Still, for her to instantly be a mother of two children—her husband's bastards—what would people think of her, accepting them so easily? "You decide without even asking my opinion."

He moved to the mantel, stared at something upon it for several moments. "They will love you. And you will love them if you give them a chance. They are but innocent children. They have done naught wrong."

Tears burned her eyes and she stared at her lap. She knew that; she would never blame them for Lachlan's misdeeds.

"Kean asked me if you are a princess."

"Heavens. I do not know how to take care of children."

"We shall hire a nanny. 'Haps we will need one soon, anyway."

When she forced herself to look at him, he winked. Everything was a jest to him, was it not?

"Will your older son's mother not mind if you take him away?"

"Nay, 'twas what she was talking to me about. She fears she cannot watch after him once her new bairn arrives. Orin's a wee rambunctious, and gets into scrapes, as I oft did as a lad. But you don't have to worry; he listens to me."

"He looks so much like you." Indeed both his sons did.

"Aye, 'tis true." He smiled with affection. With love. He could love his children, but not her. She felt beyond ridiculous being jealous of her husband's sons.

"Angelique." He stepped in behind her and grasped her shoulders in his big strong hands, caressing deeply into her tense muscles. "I'm hoping you can understand. I'm sorry for my past, because of you. Because I ken it bothers you. But I'm not sorry I have children. Can't you see? They are like treasures to me."

She bent forward, trying to escape his hypnotic touch, trying to hide the emotion in her eyes.

He came around in front of her and knelt, took her forearms into his hands. "Angelique. What's wrong? Tell me."

She shook her head.

"When we have children, I will love them as much."

He could love her children, but not her. How foolish she was to care how he felt about anything. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair, her temple. She loved the way he smelled, like soap and musky male, loved the feel of his strong body. He had not touched her in a while; she hadn't let him. But now he felt so wondrous, like she remembered. She wished to wrap herself about him tightly, skin to skin.

"We must have a son to be the next earl of Draughon," he murmured. "Then, we must have a daughter, a wee lass who looks exactly like you."

How could he say such things? As if he might care. As if he wanted a true family with her. Tears pricked her eyes and she pressed her face against his chest.

"Shh." He rocked her and stroked her hair. "We shall get Draughon back. Never fear."

"I hope you are right." Yes, let him believe she worried she would never possess Draughon again, when in truth she feared she'd never possess him.

***

After evening meal, Angelique sat by the fire in the great hall. Lachlan had convinced her earlier to meet his sons. He now brought them forward and knelt between them.

"Kean, this is my wife, Lady Angelique." Lachlan whispered something else in his younger son's ear.

"M'lady." His wide-eyed gaze locked on her, then the tiny lad bowed.

Angelique's throat tightened. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Kean."

The lad beamed at her, his light brown eyes and endearing smile so like Lachlan's it near broke her heart. What an adorable little cherub he was.

"And this is Orin." Lachlan stood and placed his hand upon his older son's shoulder.

"M'lady." Though only five, he gave a dramatic bow as if he'd been practicing a while.