Streamers of light drifted across the covers and warmed Kristen's face, waking her much later than she'd intended.
Quickly, she threw back the covers, slid out of bed and hurried over to the wardrobe.
The wardrobe was filled with gowns of blue, lavender, and rose. Everything was beautiful, Kristen admitted to herself, but life had been so much simpler when she'd had only two dresses and little choice.
Deciding on a dark blue morning dress, she slipped off her gown and grabbed the lacy undergarment she loved to feel next to her skin. Silk and lace were luxuries she really enjoyed, she thought as she stepped into her chemise and began to dress.
She had wanted to see how Trevor was feeling this morning, and she'd hoped to see him alone before his grandmother started complaining about her again.
Kristen really resented that Dowager Duchess had judged her because of her nationality when the woman knew absolutely nothing at all about her. If she'd known that Kristen had lived in the streets and picked a few pockets every now and then so they could eat, then that was a different story. However, she didn't think Trevor would divulge that small bit of information. He had too much to lose himself.
Kristen wondered where Rebecca was this morning as she brushed her hair to remove the tangles from the night before. She assumed her maid had taken Hagan down for breakfast, and she was thankful. It must be near noon if the bright sun was any indication.
Pinching her cheeks, Kristen glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was still not accustomed to having the privilege to do so, but enjoyed the luxury. She hurried down the hall to Trevor's room.
"Good morning," she said upon entering, then stopped short. There was no reply, because Trevor wasn't in the bed. The room was completely empty.
Surely, he was too sick to be up, she thought, glancing frantically around the room. Perhaps something had happened to him during the night while she'd slept. No, that couldn't be. Someone would have let her know. Maybe she could find her answer downstairs, she decided as she left the room.
Kristen barely remembered flying down the stairs in a panic. She paused only long enough for a deep breath before she barreled into the formal dining room and found Constance and Trevor sitting at one end of the table, with Hagan seated one chair down from Trevor. Kristen's stomach plummeted, and she took another deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.
Trevor looked up and smiled. "There's my future bride now."
Constance's gaze was glued to Kristen. "You need to teach her how to enter a room like a proper young lady," Constance snapped as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. The look on her face gave one the impression she'd just eaten something sour.
"Boy, Kristen you sure are a sleepy head. It's almost noon. We had breakfast a long time ago," Hagan informed her as he placed his fork on his plate rather noisily. "And lunch."
"I must have been tired." She frowned at her brother. Must he always state the obvious? She needed his support, not someone pointing out her flaws. She looked back to Trevor who had now risen and was walking toward her. "Why are ye out of bed?" The tenderness in his expression amazed her, but she kept talking. "And dressed! I'm sure the doctor meant for ye tae stay in bed today."
Trevor took her elbow and escorted her to a chair beside him. "As you can see, I'm just fine," he said calmly. "I must admit, I am a tad sore, but that's to be expected." He moved around the table, reclaiming his spot. "You have my shoulder bandaged so thoroughly I can scarcely move, but the rest of my body is fine."
"Yeah, Kristen." Hagan sat his glass down just missing his plate. "He ain't no dandy. We're going riding--on horses."
Kristen couldn't help smiling at her brother. Nothing ever bothered Hagan. Then she frowned as his words sank in. Going horseback riding? "I think ye should wait," she told both of them.
"But Trevor said--" Hagan persisted.
"Children should be seen and not heard!" Constance's voice echoed around the cold dining room.
"What does that mean, Grandmere?" Hagan looked at the woman with a quizzical stare. "Can't you see me?"
"I am not your Grandmere, young man." Her words were as cold as ice water.
"That's what Trevor calls you," Hagan persisted.
Constance's eyebrows shot up and her face turned a pinkish color. “Trevor, speak to the child!"
"What she meant, Hagan, is that ye are talking tae much," Kristen explained without adding old bat.
"I'm not talking too much." He shook his head and his eyes brightened. “I just got started.”
"No, ye are not talking tae much, but since ye have finished yer lunch why don't ye find Rebecca, and tell her tae get ye ready for the ride." Kristen gave him a little nudge toward the door.
"Ye really shouldn't be riding," Kristen reminded Trevor. "Do I have tae remind ye, ye were shot?"
"I must agree with her." Constance nodded in Kristen's direction, though she didn't bother to look at her.
"I hear your concerns, but I assure you both that I am fine." He turned toward his grandmother. His profile spoke of strength. "Did you arrange for the dressmaker to come and fit Kristen?"
"Yes, I have." Her expression was a mask of stone. "I have also sent out the invitations at your insistence. You are to exchange vows a week from Saturday." Constance gave Kristen a piercing look. "That is, if you don't change your mind."
"Grandmere." Trevor sighed as if he'd gone over this many times before. "I know this is sudden, but if you remember it was at your suggestion," he reminded her. "I had no intention of getting married."
"But this woman is a Scot!" Constance waved a hand toward Kristen.
That did it! Kristen stood so fast she nearly knocked the chair over. "And yer a bloody Englishwoman, but ye don't hear me constantly harping on the fact!"
"Don't raise your voice at me, young lady." Constance's gray eyebrows shot together. "I will not have it!" She threw down her napkin and stood, too.
The whole scene reminded Kristen of two roosters getting ready to fight, but she wasn't about to back down now. "I'll do as I damn well please, yer highness. Ye need tae get yer bloody nose out of the air and see how people really live!"
"Why, I never! You ill-bread Scot! Trevor speak to her at once," Constance demanded in a shrill voice.
"Don't bother." Kristen glared at Trevor, her annoyance increasing when she found that her hands were trembling. "I'm leaving." Kristen left the room without saying another word.
Trevor turned to his grandmother, unsuccessfully trying to hide his smile. "Did I fail to mention that Kristen has a slight temper?"
"I will not tolerate her speaking to me like that!" Constance said firmly. "Just this short outburst has set my heart to fluttering." Constance placed a hand over her heart and sank back down in the chair.
"Calm yourself." Trevor reached over and patted her hand. "Kristen is just a little nervous. After all, she is in a new home surrounded by strangers. You would probably feel the same way if you were in her place, surrounded by Scots," he added.
"Precisely my point, Trevor," Constance shot back. "She is an interloper that we know nothing about."
"Believe me, Grandmere, I know all that I need to." Trevor clenched his jaw and told himself to stay calm. "Should I remind you again that marriage was your idea, not mine? Besides, if I remember correctly, you didn't know grandfather very long before you married him."
"But she is a Johnstone!"
"I was taken back when I heard the name, too. But Kristen was raised in London, so she could only be a distant relative, at most. Furthermore, she told me herself that her father died a long time ago."
"All Johnstones are related," Constance persisted in a grudging voice. "Have you not forgotten what they did to your poor grandfather?"
"No, I haven't." Trevor slid his chair back. "I want you to promise that you'll try and get along with Kristen."
His grandmother ignored him. "Did I tell you that Charity Fullbright is coming to stay for a few days?"
Trevor tried to look into her crafty eyes even though she turned her head quickly. "What are you up to?"
"I don't know what you mean." Constance glanced down quickly, under Trevor's sharp gaze. "Her mother wanted to visit, and I suggested that they both come. I knew you'd enjoy the company. Charity is such a lovely girl."
Trevor stood and looked at his grandmother. "It won't work, Grandmere. I am marrying Kristen a week from Saturday." He'd had his fill of being nice, and his shoulder was beginning to throb, which didn't help his mood in the least. "I suggest you accept the fact, and be happy for us."
Constance merely stared at her grandson in stony silence. Just when he was getting ready to leave, she said, completely out of nowhere, "Do you love her?"
Trevor swung around and stopped, looking as if he'd been turned to stone. He was surprised by the question. After all, what did love have to do with anything? How could he love somebody he'd just met?
"Love her?" he repeated as hundreds of thoughts ran through his mind. "I care a great deal for Kristen. More than I have for any other woman. But love? Do any of us really know what love is?"
Constance looked at Trevor, studying him. She caught a strange look in his eyes. One she hadn't seen before. There was also a calmness she sensed in Trevor instead of that restlessness that always seemed to plague him. She knew she'd surprised him with talk of love, but she didn't want Trevor to make a mistake. She had seen too many marriages suffer from lack of love.
"Love is truly a gift that few of us get to experience," she said in a voice that seemed to come from a long way off. "And believe me, son, you will know when you're in love."
"How is that, Grandmere?"
His dark eyes showed the tortured dullness of disbelief. What else could she expect? Trevor hadn't had a normal childhood. When he had come to her, he had been fully grown at ten years old instead of a child, and she could vividly remember the lackluster expression in his eyes back then. He'd wanted his parents' love so badly he'd tried to be the perfect child. Of course, he had never succeeded, but that hadn't been his fault. How she wished she'd realized what was going on, and that she'd rescued Trevor sooner.
"Love is special and hard to explain, but I shall try," Constance said, taking a deep breath. "When you can think of nothing but that one person. When they block all others from your mind so that when you're not with them, you find a part of yourself missing. When the first thing you do is look for them as you enter a crowded room and think of them when you are eating, and dream of them when you are sleeping. When you forget about pleasing yourself and think only of pleasing them. And suddenly the moon and stars are brighter when they are standing beside you, and turn dull when they are gone . . .
"That's when you'll know a love so powerful that it will bring you to your knees," Constance finished in a whisper, wiping a tear that had slipped down her wrinkled cheek.
Trevor looked at his grandmother. He'd never heard her speak like this before. She usually never showed her emotions and he really couldn't picture her and his grandfather in an intimate embrace, but evidently she had another side he'd never seen.
"You loved Grandfather very much, didn't you?"
"I did love," she said sadly and looked away. Someone, she thought to herself.
Trevor reached over and pulled the older woman into his arms, giving her a hug the way he used to do when he was a child.
"I know you miss Grandfather.” Trevor sighed and moved away. “Perhaps one day, I can tell you I've experienced all the things you have just said. But I doubt that kind of love will exist for me." He held her away from him. "For now, I can tell you that I want Kristen for my wife." He didn't add that he wasn't sure why, other than the reason he'd told Kristen. "I pray that we will be as happy as you and grandfather were," Trevor added, though he doubted that statement. After they were married he'd probably see Kristen every couple of months to check on her. After all, he had a business to run and work to do. He couldn't be tied down in one place for very long.
"I wish that for you, too." Her voice had a compassionate tone. "But she is a Johnstone."
"Yes, but in a week she'll be a Claremont." Trevor smiled at his speechless grandmother.
Kristen had left in such a hurry and with such a full head of steam, she hadn't paid attention to where she was going. When she did slow down, she had no earthly idea where she was or what part of the house she was in. The place was so big she needed a map!
She spotted a doorway to the right. If she were lucky, it would lead to a vacant room. Kristen hadn't made a good impression on the dowager duchess, who could very well make Kristen's life miserable. At the moment, she really didn't give a fig as she tested the doorknob to see if it opened.
Luckily, the knob twisted, and she didn't see any reason why she shouldn't wander inside and look around, if only for a little while. The worst that could happen was someone would start yelling at her all over again.
The room was of medium size and on the back part of the house. It had windows across one wall with little seats under each one. A plush yellow cushion perched on each seat. Kristen stepped closer to look out. She couldn't control the small gasp that slipped out as she marveled at how beautiful the back of the house appeared.
To her left lay a garden of bright red and yellow tulips and there were green shrubs everywhere. Surely, this must be paradise. She'd be sure to take a walk later and enjoy the beauty she'd seen only in books. There was nothing about the docks in London that were pretty and the only thing colorful had been the language. She now had the ability to swear in several languages. A giggle escaped her before she could stop it as she wondered whether the duchess would care to hear a few of the words she'd learned.
Looking around the room, she found the decor of yellow and green cheerful indeed. It was very comforting. This room seemed more like a home and didn't have the formality of the rest of the house.
There were pictures everywhere. One especially caught her attention. Kristen moved over to take a closer look at the child's portrait.
The artist had been good, for he'd caught the rare mixture of color that made up Trevor's unusual eyes. She bent closer. She could even see the small brown fleck near the center of his eyes.
"Amazing," she murmured.
"Do you like my portrait?" A voice came from the door, catching her attention.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Very much," she admitted. "You were a handsome child."
"Thank you." Trevor smiled at her praise. "There is something special about this painting." He moved up behind her. "Stand here." He pointed. "And look at the child's eyes. What do you see?"
"Green. Very vivid at that."
"Good." He nodded his approval. "Now, stand over here." He took her by the arms and positioned her on the other side of the painting. "What do you see now?"
"Why the eyes are blue!" She turned and looked at him with her astonishment clearly showing. "How did he do that?"
"I'm not sure." Trevor smiled and inclined his head. "I was around ten years old, and I remember the artist complaining about painting my eyes. The first time he painted them green, and then he rubbed that out and painted them blue." Trevor's smile widened as he told the story. "To tell you the truth, I believe he'd wished he never taken the commission." He chuckled. "Grandmere said he couldn't leave until he got the painting exactly right."
"Of course, everything would have to be perfect," Kristen said before she thought. "That sounds like her." She frowned. "This time, I must admit, her persistence paid off."
"Listen." Trevor rubbed his chin as he figured out how to explain his grandmother's behavior. "It's going to take Grandmere a while to adjust. But she will come around. I'm sure of it. She'll accept everything when you stand beside me next week."
Kristen twisted her lips into a cynical smile. "Ye wanna bet money on that?"
"I see you gamble, too." He grinned. "Let's just say under that hard crust, the woman loves me, and she'll come to love you if given time."
"As in a hundred years."
He moved closer. "Who couldn't love my little thief?"
"Yer a bit tae close." She took a step back.
"Not as close as I'll be a week from now." He shortened the distance.
"But that's in a week." She placed a hand on his chest. "Ye could be disappointed 'cause I-I dinna--"
Trevor caressed her cheek with his fingers. "I will not be disappointed." His voice softened. "You have been full of surprises so far. I can't imagine you changing in a week."
Kristen felt the warmth spread through her like melting butter on hot bread. But she wasn't comfortable in this house, and she didn't want him to think that every time he touched her, she would fall into his arms. She needed to show him some resistance instead of melting at his feet. But he didn't need to know that.
She pulled away. "I thought you were going to take Hagan riding." She tried not looking at him, knowing she'd go straight back into his arms with very little encouragement. She was addicted to this man for sure.
She was doomed.
Trevor went from deliciously warm to ice cold. In less than two seconds. What was the matter with him? He couldn't keep his hands off her.
"Yes, I was," he answered, his tone a little irritated. "And I believe the seamstress has arrived to start fitting you for your dress."
"Then ye'll have tae show me the way." She started for the door. “Do ye have a map of this place?"
Trevor chuckled. "No, you'll find your way around in due time."
"I wouldn't bet on it."