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Late Saturday night, Sarah sat at the kitchen table with a pot of tea steeping before her. Time to relax. Everyone else had gone to bed. She couldn’t believe how quickly the week had passed, but then she hadn’t had a moment to stop and think about it either. The planning, the details were all done. Everything for the wedding was in place. Added to that, Thorn was feeling better.
As if thinking about him brought him down the stairs and into the kitchen, he stepped into the room, more steady on his feet than he had been since the fight.
He carefully slipped onto one of the chairs at the table and let out a small moan. Sarah lowered her eyes and held her tongue, refusing to say anything about how hard he was pushing himself. The man knew what he was feeling, so no reason to state the obvious.
She stood and crossed the kitchen to get a cup. “Would you like some tea?”
“Thank you, that sounds good.”
She felt him watching her while she moved around the kitchen. She returned to the table and poured them each a cup.
He took a slow sip of the tea and smiled. “You make a good pot of tea.”
“Thank you.” Ignoring her cup, she pulled a package from her pocket and slid it over to him. It was addressed to Thorn and came from a jewelry store in Denver. “This came today.”
Thorn grinned even wider. “I was wondering when this would arrive.” He ripped the paper off the box and opened it. In it lay two metal circles, one larger than the other. “I wanted you to wear something of mine. And since you’re a MacPherson bride, this only seemed appropriate.”
He held out the larger one to her.
She took it and ran her finger around the edge. It looked like a belt formed into a circle with a cat sitting in the middle, one paw raised. There were words engraved on the top part of the circle. “Touch not the cat but a glove.” Interesting, but what did it mean? The wording and the brooch or whatever it was.
Sarah raised her face to Thorn.
Thorn smiled. “It’s the MacPherson clan shield.” He raised his index finger and touched her between her left shoulder and her heart. “On a man, it’s worn about here. Of course, it’s usually worn to hold the plaid that hangs down the back and around to his kilt. Women wear it in the same place, but usually they have their family tartan as a sash, across one shoulder and tied on the opposite hip. Even though you don’t have a sash yet, I thought you might like to have it.” He flushed as he handed her the smaller one. “I had one made for Emma, too.”
The word kilt stood out in her mind. She knew what it was, that little skirt Scottish men wore in their home country, but... She wondered if Thorn ever had—
“No.”
She tried not to smile. “No, what?”
“No, I’ve never worn the kilt.” He tapped her nose with his finger. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it?”
Visions of Thorn in a plaid skirt, his legs exposed, flashed in Sarah’s head. She felt heat rise in her cheeks. She nodded and lowered her eyes.
Suddenly another question burned in her mind. Had he gotten one of these things for Lizzie? For Gavenia? No, she wouldn’t question him about them now. Maybe when the time was right, when things settled down after the wedding, when the Nelson children found their place in the household, when Thorn healed a little more, then she would ask about the two women who haunted her dreams.
“What does this mean?” She pointed to the words on the top of the shield.
“It’s our clan motto. ‘Touch not the cat bot a glove.’ It means don’t touch the cat when it’s without a glove.”
She ran her finger over the cat several times, then grinned up at him. “I don’t understand. Either you’re playing dress-up with a cat and have some tiny gloves hidden away somewhere, in which case this whole thing is pretty silly, or it has some other meaning.”
“Woman, never tease a Scotsman concerning his clan shield.” He reached out and took her hand that held the pin. With his other hand, he touched the cat on the shield. “The glove of the wildcat is this part here, the soft underpart of its paw. When the cat is ready to attack or takes a war-like attitude, its paw is ungloved or spread, showing its very dangerous and sharp claws. While the motto sounds simple enough, it is a warning to those who would be foolish or hasty as to engage in battle when the claw of the wildcat is ungloved.”
She ran her finger around the shield again. “Like if Stanley did something foolish or hasty.”
Thorn’s lips thinned to a hard, narrow line. He nodded. “To you or any of those under the MacPherson protection. And the cat can be deadly with its claws out.”
She slipped her hand from his. “Do you give these out to all those you protect?”
“Nay, only those born to the clan MacPherson and to the MacPherson brides.”
“What about Emma? She’s neither born a MacPherson nor married to one.”
“I’m hoping one day you’ll let me adopt her. On that day, she’ll be a MacPherson and have every right to wear the clan shield.” He wrapped his fingers around the smaller circle. “On that day, I’ll give her this.”
Sarah nodded and wrapped her fingers around the larger shield. Warmth spread through her when Thorn talked about the future. If he adopted Emma that would mean they would still be together. Was he trying to tell her that he wanted her? Maybe loved her?
That still didn’t answer what kept running through her mind. Had Thorn given one of these to the mysterious Lizzie or Gavenia? Had either one been his MacPherson bride?
Suddenly, she had to know. She drew in a breath, then blew out the question with the breath, “Did Gavenia or Lizzie have a clan shield?”
He blinked. Shocked, but it was more than that. Sorrow and pain filled his eyes. “How did you know about them?”
“When you were feverish, you mumbled something about them. Called out their names.”
He nodded. “Aye, they both did.”
Sarah pushed her toes against the bottoms of her shoes, trying to keep calm. Maybe she would get some answers now. “Who are—?”
The door from the hall burst open. Helen glided in, almost as if she were floating, her eyes shining and her lips spread in a huge smile. She clasped her hand to her chest. “Tomorrow I’m getting married. Can you believe it?”
Thorn chuckled and stood. “I’m happy for you. Sleep well. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Sarah watched as he left the room. Soon, she would get the answers she needed.
***
Sarah wore one of her finer gowns. This one was of medium blue silk and lace, with the MacPherson clan shield pinned on it. And even though her dress was lovely, she had no fear she’d outshine the bride.
The dress she’d had the seamstress create for her new sister-in-law was beautiful. It had been a battle to get Helen to agree to the snow-white creation. Nothing gaudy, but not plain either. With its triple tiers, it showed off Helen’s small waist. Although how the woman could keep such a small waist with all the baking and tasting she did was beyond Sarah.
The midday meal after church services had been light. The ceremony was scheduled for two in the afternoon. Sarah stepped into the kitchen and tapped on Helen’s bedroom door.
The door creaked open just a bit. Helen reached out and grabbed Sarah’s hand. “Come in and shut the door.”
Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, dear. What’s the problem?”
“My hair. I can’t do anything with my hair.” Helen wiped an embroidered hankie across her eyes. “I always dreamed of walking down the aisle to my groom with my hair flowing to my waist.” She flipped the short hair that just brushed her shoulders.
“Your hair will be covered by your veil. Besides, Drew’s not going to be thinking about how long your hair is. He’s going to be too busy trying to not fall down from nerves.”
“And I’ll be there to hold him up.” Helen giggled and picked up her hairbrush. “You know just what to say, but then you’ve been married twice.”
And not in love either time. Sarah took the brush and motioned Helen onto a chair. A few minutes later, she had pinned up Helen’s hair and concealed it under a beaded ornament. Curly ringlets framed her face. Next came the veil. Once that was in place, Helen was ready to meet her groom.
Sarah stood at the door and peeked into the kitchen. No Drew. Carl came out of his room in a new suit, his hair plastered down and looking solemn. Tears filled his eyes.
He stuck out his elbow. “I’m ready to give you away. Drew said it’s my d-duty to do that, since I’m family.”
Helen bent down, heedless of the wrinkles to her dress. “Oh, sweetie, that’s just a saying. All it means is that you are going to walk with me, like best friends. Remember how we talked about moving into the rooms over the bakery? Your room is all ready for you. We hadn’t taken you there before because Sarah wanted you to be surprised.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
Carl swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “Let’s get you married then, so we can have some cake.”
Together they walked down the hall to the parlor. Sarah hadn’t let Helen see it earlier for she wanted that to be a surprise, too. Sarah stepped into the room and the fragrance of roses greeted her. She glanced at Helen to see her reaction, but all the bride looked at was her groom. Joy filled Sarah’s heart. That was the way it should be.
Sarah started to the end of the room where Drew and the preacher stood. She smiled and nodded to the guests. Helen’s aunt and uncle had been invited, but they had refused to attend. Several elderly ladies from church, women Helen helped with food and chores, sat on the sofa, giggling and whispering among themselves.
Sarah looked to where the preacher stood and almost stumbled when she saw Thorn standing next to her brother. She knew he was going to stand up with Drew, but she had never seen him look so...so good. Not even the day they married. Their wedding day brought memories of the kiss they shared at the end of the ceremony, and then much later at Duncan’s house in Denver. Heat rose up her neck and into her cheeks. She chanced a glance at Thorn. His eyes stared straight at her. Small flutters ran through her.
She stepped to the left and waited for Helen, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Thorn. When Helen joined them, they all stepped closer to the preacher. The words the preacher spoke—of love, of commitment, of unity, even the words from the book of Ruth—they all seemed new as she looked at Thorn. She had heard them many times before while growing up. Of course, they were in her own weddings, first to Alfred, then to Thorn, but this time it was different.
The words touched her heart. While the vows were spoken, she repeated them in her mind as she looked at Thorn. This time she was agreeing to them of her own will because she wanted to. It seemed the same for Thorn. After Drew spoke his vows, Thorn looked at her and nodded slightly. When Helen said hers, Sarah did the same. She had to force herself to stand still when the preacher said the groom could kiss his bride.
Grinning, Drew led Helen to the dining room for the reception.
Sarah slipped her hand into the bend of Thorn’s elbow and walked beside him. He pressed her hand close to his side. She stared up at him. A soft smile lifted his lips as his green eyes held onto hers. Her hand trembled and he pressed it closer. Joy filled her heart.
A few minutes later, they cut the cake Helen had baked and decorated, and the Nelson children passed the refreshments out to all the guests. Sarah slipped back into the kitchen to heat more water for tea. The elderly ladies seemed to enjoy that the most, that and repeating everything that happened during the wedding—as if anybody had forgotten the events of just a few minutes before.
Sarah was filling the teapot when the back door opened. She didn’t want to burn herself, so she didn’t look, but she figured it was Thorn. Had he slipped out the front and sneaked around back to steal a kiss? The thought warmed her cheeks, but at least she could blame that on the steaming water. Bouncing in her shoes and wetting her suddenly dry lips, she took a sudden breath and froze. The smell that drifted to her was not Thorn’s. It was the stench that Stanley always wore. Some women might think it wonderful and masculine, but to Sarah, it carried the smell of death and pain.
Sarah turned to the back door and faced Stanley. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
She set the teapot on the table, but kept her hand on the handle. Never hurt to have a weapon handy. “I can’t think of anything we have to talk about.”
“The business, of course.”
“What business?”
“Your grandfather’s business here in Central City. The corporation will not advance the money to complete everything that needs to be done to get them all up and running. You need to invest some money.”
Sarah tightened her grip on the teapot. “Stanley, whatever business matters you had with my grandfather don’t affect me in the least. I have no interest in them, either monetarily or emotionally. Deal with the corporation that has control over the businesses. Whatever you do here, I want no part in it.”
“You can’t put me off like this. Your grandfather and I had an arrangement.” He took a couple of steps into the kitchen. “Under his authority, I have made certain deals. Deals that need to be completed.”
Sarah picked up the teapot. “I think our discussion is completed. Please excuse me. I have guests waiting.”
When she moved around the table, he stepped forward and grabbed her arm.
She bit back a cry of pain.
He held her firm. “You have obligations.”
“She owes you nothing.” Thorn closed the door to the hall with one hand and held a pistol in the other. “And if you don’t get your hand off my wife this instant, you’ll be missing it.”
Stanley let go but leaned closer to her. He kept his voice low so that only Sarah could hear him. “Your husband isn’t always here. I can be an extremely patient man.” He spun away and pushed through the back door, leaving his stink behind.
Thorn stepped to her side and lifted her arm with great care. She knew the moment he saw the red marks. A deep growl sounded in his chest. “What did he say?”
“The same thing he’s said for as long as I’ve known him.” She gently tugged her arm. Thorn released it and stepped back a pace. “He’s been my grandfather’s lackey for so long, I’m not sure he knows how to think for himself.”
Thorn reached up and cupped her cheek with his hand. “He’s more dangerous than you think. Don’t trust him.”
“You don’t have to worry on that count.”
“Just be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He took a step closer. His head dropped as his fingers slid up her arms.
Her feet had a mind of their own. Her toes pressed down into her shoes. Her heels raised. Her lips came closer to his.
Their breath mingled.
Judith burst into the kitchen. “Oh, excuse me.”
Sarah stepped away.
Thorn let out a growl.
“Some of the ladies asked for more tea.” With her eyes lowered, Judith moved further into the room and grabbed the teapot. “I’ll get this to them.”
The door had barely closed before it opened again. This time, it was Linda. “Some of the guests are getting ready to leave.”
“I’ll be right out.” Sarah started for the door.
“Rose, when this is all over”—Thorn waved his arm toward the wedding reception—“We need to talk.”
She nodded. With all that had been going on for the last week or so, she wasn’t sure exactly what it was he wanted to discuss. All she knew was that butterflies filled her stomach, and she didn’t know if they were angry, worried, or scared.