| |
STRATFORD
Baron Fortescue did not arrive at the Duke of Atholl’s castle, where the wedding parties were to stay, with the rest of the wedding guests. The baroness said he was needed in Town and Scotland was simply too far to travel. Stratford did not think his mother would have come if he hadn’t been marrying her best friend’s daughter. Later Emmeline, Loftus trailing behind, had come to her betrothed, put her arms around Stratford, and simply held him. “I’m so sorry,” she had whispered in his hair.
Stratford pulled back and looked at her lovely face—her blue eyes like the color of the Scottish sky on this sunny, summer day. “I wasted years trying to earn their love, and now I ask myself why. I never needed it. Everyone who matters is here.” He looked at her with a smile. “My friends are here—Jasper, Ewan, Colin, even Mayne forgave us and came.”
Emmeline smiled. “The duke still will not accept any cup Murray hands him. He said he slept for almost two days the last time Mr. Murray gave him a drink.”
Stratford chuckled. “Duncan forgets that what would put him out is enough to flatten another man.” He pulled Emmeline into an embrace. “I love you, Emmie.”
“I love you.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “Do you believe you are worthy of it yet? All this love?”
“I’m gradually accustoming myself to the idea,” he said. He pulled back and took her hand. “But I wouldn’t mind being shown just one more time.” He led her toward a hidden entrance Duncan had shown him was the perfect way to sneak into the keep, unseen. He knew he could have her in his bed chamber within minutes.
But Emmeline tugged at him. “The wedding is in the morning. I have to go hide from you. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Besides, my mother and sisters will come looking for me soon. They brought an entire coach of dresses, ribbons, and lace. I imagine they mean to drape me with it until I teeter under the weight.”
“You will look beautiful no matter what you wear. In fact, the less the better.”
She swatted him playfully. “Tomorrow,” she said, and it was a promise.
The wedding day had dawned rainy and overcast. Lady Charlotte had declared it good luck, but everyone else had declared it typical Scotland. Duncan and Stratford had managed to make it to the church in Kirkmoray. Like the Duke of Atholl’s castle, it was old and crumbling, but when Emmeline had said it had charm, he’d agreed. The church had been built overlooking a loch and, in the distance, the Highlands. With the low-lying clouds, neither could be seen at half past seven in the morning, but if the weather ever cleared, the view was spectacular. The stone church looked a bit uneven in places, but the circular stained-glass window and the vaulted ceilings made the inside airier than the squat outside would have led him to believe.
He and Duncan stood nervously at the chancel. The priest, Anglican (though Stratford had a suspicion that Duncan’s village might still harbor any number of Catholics), cleared his throat and looked at the papers before him. His hands shook and he muttered to himself, seemingly more nervous than the bridegrooms.
“Do ye think he will make it through the service?” Duncan whispered to Stratford as the guests continued filing in.
“He’d better,” Stratford said. “I’m not doing this again.”
“Mrs. Wellesley looks happy,” Duncan said as his soon-to-be mother-in-law entered with three of her daughters and took a seat at the front beside his own mother. Emmeline’s mother was beaming.
“Thinking of all the blunt she’ll save not having to send Emmeline to Town for another Season.”
Duncan elbowed him, almost causing Stratford to topple over. “She’s pleased tae have ye for a son.”
“Yes, well.” Stratford felt his neck warm at the compliment. “I need to thank your mother again for arranging all of this.”
Duncan waved a hand. “She’s in her element.” It was true. Lady Charlotte stood with the Duke of Atholl, presiding over everything like a queen.
And then as if by some invisible cue, the guests quieted and took their seats, and Stratford realized the brides must have arrived. His belly fluttered as the doors to the narthex opened, and the two women started forward.
Certainly, there were two—Stratford knew this—but he could only see Emmeline. She wore a pale blue gown adorned with ribbons of sapphire. Instead of a bonnet, she wore those same ribbons threaded through her hair. Drops of rain glittered in the dark curls, making a stark contrast beside her pale face and her large blue eyes.
Duncan gripped Stratford’s shoulder, and Stratford was not sure if it was to support him or because the Scotsman needed shoring up. Emmeline was finally beside him, and the priest spoke, but Stratford barely heard a word. Emmeline smiled at him and mouthed the words, I love you. And Stratford knew he would spend the rest of his life proving just how much he loved her too.
***
EMMELINE
When they’d emerged from the old church, the sun had deigned to peak through the clouds and rays of light streaked across the Highlands beyond the loch. Loftus had been relegated to waiting outside the church, and he jumped up to greet them. Emmeline petted him and looked about her. The scene was so pretty Emmeline could have painted a picture—if she had any talent for painting. Instead, they’d all returned to the duke’s castle for the wedding breakfast, held in the keep, which with its tapestries and trestle tables, made her feel as though she had stepped into the Middle Ages.
At the breakfast, Stratford’s mother had taken her hand and welcomed her to the family. “I’ve always thought of you as a daughter,” she said. “Now you are one in truth.” She’d kissed her cheek, and Emmeline had felt true warmth. She and Stratford were to live at the estate his uncle had gifted Stratford, but she would not mind inviting his mother to visit. Her own mother...
Well, her own mother had not been quite as insufferable as usual. She’d limited her comments on Emmeline’s appearance and had only tried to prevent Emmeline from eating cake once. When Emmeline had given her a hard stare, she had withdrawn and murmured, “Well, you are Mr. Fortescue’s problem now, I dare say.”
“Do you hear that?” Emmeline whispered to her new husband. Husband—she liked the sound of that.
“You are my problem?” he said, giving her a wink. “You’re a good problem to have.”
“Do you think you might take your problem upstairs for a little while? I think I should like to lie down.”
His expression turned to one of concern. “Do you have a headache?”
“No, but I’ll say that if it means we can have time alone.”
He smiled, relieved. “You go first. I’ll join you shortly.”
She excused herself and left the breakfast, which took a good twenty minutes as everyone wanted to wish her happy and hug her and tell her how lovely she looked. Finally, she escaped up a narrow, winding stone staircase to the bedchamber she’d been given. Stratford’s things had already been moved to it, in preparation for the wedding night. She was ready now. Once she had put her mind to it, Lady Charlotte had proved an adept chaperone and ensured she and Stratford had very little time alone. They’d barely been able to steal a kiss under Lady Charlotte’s watchful eye.
Now, they no longer needed a chaperone. Emmeline removed what she could—shoes and stockings, ribbons and lace, but she could not manage the dress on her own. She couldn’t reach the pins in the back. When Stratford knocked, the bodice hung down and the skirts sagged. She opened the door. “Come in and unwrap me,” she’d said, pulling him inside.
“Gladly.”
She gave him her back before he could act on any of the other ideas she saw formulating in his mind, and he began to remove pins and untie laces. “Did anyone see you sneak away?” she asked.
“I would have gotten away without notice,” he said, “but Duncan yelled out across the room, Where are ye off tae, Stratford? And then everyone looked at me and clapped.”
Emmeline laughed. “Were you terribly embarrassed?”
“Not so embarrassed that I didn’t salute and come here to join you. There. That’s all of them I think.”
Her skirts slid to the floor, and she removed her bodice and stays, standing in just her chemise. “Now it’s your turn,” she said, turning to him. She took her time undressing him. First, she stripped off the tight coat, then the neckcloth and waistcoat, and finally the linen shirt.
He had to sit on the bed to remove his shoes and stockings, and when he reached for his breeches, she reached for the tie of her chemise. He eased his trousers over his slim hips as she slid the linen over her breasts and down to her waist.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” he whispered as the chemise fell to the ground and she stood naked before him. “You’re perfect.”
“No,” she said, looking at his broad shoulders, muscled chest, and slim hips. She could not miss his erection jutting proudly either. “You are perfect.”
“Turn around,” he said, twirling one finger. “I want to see that arse I have been dreaming about.”
Normally shy, Emmeline turned around and wiggled her hips.
“You will be the death of me,” he all but groaned as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the back of her neck. His hands slid down over her bottom, squeezed it, then slid back up again to rub her arms, cup her breasts, and then brush over her sex. She moaned as he touched her and turned in his arms to kiss him fully.
He pulled her to the bed, coming down next to her and gazing at her with undisguised admiration. They both took their time exploring the other. She was particularly fond of the feel of his hip under her leg when she threw it over him. He seemed to want to kiss every part of her, twice. When they were both panting and dizzy with want, he entered her. It didn’t hurt this time, and Emmeline had to bite her lip to stop a cry of pleasure from the feel of him deep inside her. He moved slowly, locking his hands with hers, watching her face, and murmuring how beautiful she was and how he loved her.
When the pleasure had built to a peak and she was mewling with need, he suddenly rolled her over so that she straddled him.
“What is this?” she asked, breathless. But he nudged his hips, and she could see exactly what he wanted her to do. She took him inside her and moved her own hips tentatively.
“That’s it,” he said. “Show me what you like.”
She moved again, the friction delicious. He gripped her hips as she rocked over him, his face a mask of restraint. And then the pleasure was spiraling through her, coiling up through her belly and radiating out to every limb. She cried out and gripped his shoulders as he thrust into her, deepening her own pleasure. They crashed over the edge together, clinging tightly to each other to steady themselves in the storm.
Afterward, when she lay in Stratford’s arms, her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. She looked up at his handsome face, his tousled blond hair and heavy-lidded eyes. “Thank you for coming after me,” she said. “I think the truth is, I wanted someone to come find me.”
“I’ll always find you,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.
“You’ll never need to. I plan to stay right by your side.”
“Good.” He turned and kissed her. “That’s right where I want you, my love.”
***
INES
Ines watched Mr. Fortescue start up the stairs after Emmeline and gave Duncan a meaningful look. He smiled and leaned close. “Ye take the stairs over there—”
“Oh, no.” Catarina moved behind them. “You are staying right here, irmã.” She pointed to the empty seat beside Duncan, where Fortescue had been seated. “Move over.”
Duncan sighed with resignation and moved. Ines steeled herself for a lecture, but Catarina smiled at her. “Are you happy?” she asked in Portuguese.
Ines smiled. “Sim. Very happy. I love him, Catarina. He is a good man,” she answered in their native tongue.
“He is not the man I would have chosen for you.”
“Senhor Podmore will find some other unfortunate woman to bore.”
“He already has.”
Ines raised a brow.
“He has been courting the daughter of a renowned saddle maker.”
“Saddles and coaches. They sound perfect for each other.”
“They do, yes.” Catarina’s smile faltered. “Is that why you ran away?” she asked. “Because I wanted you to consider Mr. Podmore?”
Ines grabbed her sister’s hands, concerned at the look of guilt on Catarina’s pretty face. “Não, não. Well, partly? I told you I was merely hiding, and then the coach started to move.”
“I did not believe that story.”
Ines squeezed her hands. “It is true. But the reason I did not want to come back? I did not want to meet any more Mr. Podmores. I wanted a Duncan Murray.”
Catarina glanced at him. “But you have always wanted love and romance, and he is so...”
At that moment, Duncan drained his wine glass, slammed it on the table, and signaled for another. All to the cheers of the men nearby.
“Scottish.”
Ines watched Duncan who winked at her. “I like that he is Scottish. I like this country. It is wild and free.”
“You really will not come back to London with us?”
Ines looked about the old keep of the castle and thought about the loch, the sea, and the mountains beyond. “We will come and visit.”
“What about our lace shop?”
Ines cocked her head. “That was always your dream, Catarina. I enjoy making lace, but I always made what you showed me. And perhaps I can show some of the women here how to make it. We can sell to some of the shops in Edinburgh.”
Catarina’s brows lifted. “Expansion of Catarina lace?”
Ines smiled. “I can see the excitement in your eyes already.”
Catarina laughed and then her expression turned serious. “I want you to be happy, Ines. I feel responsible for you. You were only fourteen when you ran away with me.”
“And you have been a mother and father to me,” Ines said. “But now I am all grown up, and you should go live your own life. Visiting me regularly, of course!”
“Of course.” Catarina hugged her, and Ines rested her head on her sister’s shoulder. Her sister always smelled of home to her, and Ines had to sniff to hold back tears. “You are crying, irmã.”
“Because I am happy,” Ines said. Catarina gave her a look, and Ines conceded, “And I will miss you not bossing me around every day.”
“Then you must come to London often so I can keep in practice.”
“I will.”
“And you,” Catarina said, switching to English as she turned on Duncan. “If you do not make my sister very happy, I will come for you.”
Duncan scooted back in his chair. “I promise she’ll nae have a moment’s complaint.”
“Good. And do not even think of sneaking away. I want to hear all about your travels. I hear you allowed her to be abducted by bandits.”
Ines buried her face in her hands.
She had thought once the breakfast was over, she and Duncan would have time together, but then they had to bid farewell to the guests who were travelling home that day. Emmeline and Fortescue had not been seen again, so the task fell to Ines and Duncan. And then there were gifts to open and sort and the duke wanted to speak to his nephew privately. By the time their parley was over, it was time for dinner. Emmeline and her new husband did reappear for the meal, and they looked very happy. Ines and Duncan could only stare at each other across the table.
Finally, after more toasts than Ines could count, the ladies adjourned to the drawing room while the men had their whisky. Both Emmeline and Ines protested they were exhausted and ready to retire. The ladies hurried up the stairs, giggling and then at the landing stopped to embrace.
“You’ll have to come visit us,” Emmeline said. “You’re like a sister to me now.”
“And you will have to come and visit us.”
“We will.” Emmeline squeezed Ines’s shoulders.
“Did you speak to Senhor Fortescue about Senhor Pope?”
Emmeline pulled back. “Are you still worried about him? Even after he shot your husband?”
“He apologized.”
“Before he threatened to do it again!” Emmeline put an arm around Ines’s shoulders and paused outside the door to the bedchamber she and Duncan had been given. “Stratford has promised to make inquiries and to speak to Mr. Pope’s father, Lord Beaufort, if necessary.”
“Thank you.”
Emmeline looked as though she would say something else, but she simply whispered, “Write to me,” then scurried toward her room. Ines watched her go and then saw the reason for her abrupt departure. Lady Charlotte was approaching.
Ines straightened her shoulders.
“Have you been inside yet?” Lady Charlotte asked, gesturing to the closed door of the bed chamber.
“Not yet.”
“Allow me then.” Duncan’s mother opened the door and held out a hand for Ines to enter. Ines stepped inside and took a breath. The room was huge with a hearth almost as big as she boasting a roaring fire. The curtains to a window were still open, and Ines was drawn to the view of the mountains with the pink of the setting sun behind them. Then she could not help but peek at the bed. It was monstrous in size, with heavy blue velvet curtains hanging about it.
“That bed is famous.” Lady Charlotte motioned to it. “’Tis said King James VI slept in that bed.”
Ines had no idea who that was, but she tried to look impressed. She motioned to the lace cuffs she had noticed Lady Charlotte wore earlier. “They look well on you,” she said.
Lady Charlotte looked at them and then back at Ines. “They are the finest lace I have ever owned. Thank you, and I am sorry for the way I treated you when you first arrived. And after you first arrived. Duncan can be so impulsive, and I had to be sure he really cared for you. I thought I could bait him into revealing his feelings if I—” She sighed. “Well, I should have known he would do things his way.”
Ines put a hand on her arm. “We will start over, sim?”
“Yes.” Awkwardly, she gave Ines a stiff hug. Ines pulled her close and hugged her harder until Lady Charlotte laughed. “We will start over.”
Ines pulled back. “Good. And now can you help me take this dress off? I have a wedding night ahead of me.”
Lady Charlotte looked surprised at being asked to play lady’s maid, but she complied. When she left, Ines poured two glasses of wine from the bottle on the table by the bed, slipped off the robe and then the nightrail she wore and climbed naked into the big bed. She did not think she would have to wait long for Duncan to arrive.
She was right.
***
DUNCAN
His mother stepped out of the bridal chamber just as Duncan was reaching to open it. He stared at her in confusion. Had he the wrong chamber? And then he gave his mother a wary look. “Ye didnae kill her, did ye? This is nae time tae play Lady MacBeth.”
She glowered at him as only she could. “I did not kill her. I helped her take her clothes off.”
Duncan reached for the door handle again.
“Wait.”
He stilled and gave his mother a long-suffering look.
“I want to tell you something.”
Duncan nodded. “Ye love me.”
“I love you.”
“Yer happy I have come home.”
“I am happy you have come home. To stay,” she added.
“Tae stay. Which gives us plenty of time tae talk tomorrow.” He reached for the door again.
“Wait.”
Duncan heaved a sigh.
“I never blamed you, you know? For your father’s death.”
Duncan stiffened involuntarily. The topic still brought a lance of pain through his heart.
His mother gave him a sad smile. “The men who killed him bear the responsibility. Not you. Never you, sweet boy. I knew you felt responsible, and I should have said something to you. But I had my own pain, and I suppose I was not a very good mother for not taking yours on as well.”
Duncan put a hand on her shoulder. “Ye protected me and yer family. Ye raised the three of us on yer own. Ye were a verra good mother.”
“And I intend to be an even better grandmother.”
Duncan smiled. “Then I’d best open that door.” But before he did, he bent and kissed her cheek. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, aye?”
“Aye,” she said with a smile.
Duncan opened the door and stepped into the room. The curtains had been closed and the fire banked low enough to give warmth but not overly heat the room. He looked about but did not see Ines. What had his mother done to her?
The bedcurtains moved, and he spotted the glasses of wine next to the bed. “Wife?” he called.
“Come find me,” she said. “Naked.”
He let out a breath, half laugh half groan. Moving toward her, and stripping off his clothing as he went, he was naked when he parted the curtains and looked down. Propped on one elbow, she too was naked. She looked up at him, her eyes taking him in appreciatively. “Come here, husband, and ravish me.”
“Ravish ye?”
“Is that not what you say in Scotland?”
“I dinnae ken what other men say, but I plan to love ye, lass.”
She held out her arms and he went to her, pulling her warm body against him. “I plan tae love ye tonight.” He kissed her lips. “Then again tonight.” His hand stroked her hips and cupped her bottom. “Then again tonight.” He gave her a light slap when she laughed. Then he pulled back and looked down at her, her face so lovely in the flickering firelight.
“I’ll love ye all the days of my life.”
“And I you.” She lifted her lips to kiss him, and his mouth met hers. The kiss was searing, and he pressed her legs apart, eager to be inside her.
“There is just one thing,” she said.
Duncan who had already found her sex, warm and wet for him, blew out a breath. “Anything, lass.”
“You must promise to throw me over your shoulder and carry me to bed again.”
He looked up at her. “Ye like that, do ye?”
She nodded. “I like it when you are wild and unpredictable and—oh, yes, when you do that.” She caught her breath.
“Then hold on, love, because one thing I can promise ye is more of that.” He kissed her. “And this.” He pulled her closer. “And...”
But she took his mouth and for a long time no words were needed. He showed her how much he loved her, would always love her—passionate, exciting, and dangerous to the end.