Daring Lords and Ladies

by Emily Murdoch

  Calum looked at the tall, lean lad. “Hamish, how old are ye?”

  “Seventeen, sir.”

  “Do ye love the lass?”

  Hamish gave the pretty dark-haired girl a sideways glance and nodded. “With my last breath.”

  “Weel, let’s hope it doesna come to that. Nessie, do ye love him?”

  She sniffed, picked up the edge of a voluminous apron, and wiped at the tears trickling down her cheeks. “With all my heart and soul.”

  A growl came from her father, and he knocked her on the side of her head. She stumbled and Hamish lunged for the older man. Both deerhounds jumped to their feet with a snarl, teeth bared and hackles up. MacDunn wrapped his son in a bear hug, the boy kicking and throwing punches in the air.

  “Touch the lass again, Craigg, and ye’ll have my fist in yer face. Ye understand?”

  He grunted in reply, still scowling at Nessie.

  Calum smiled at the girl. “Lass, are ye with child?”

  One hand rubbed the side of her head where her father had smacked her. Now the other hand went instinctively to her belly, showing a swell under the ample material as she nodded her head.

  “Ye no good whore!” cried her father. She shoved a fist in her mouth to stifle a sob.

  “Weel, this isna so complicated after all, is it?” Calum crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. “Ross, it seems ye have two choices. Ye give yer daughter consent to marry the lad so the bairn has a father, and I don’t flog ye. Or I flog ye, and tell the whole village what’s conspired here.”

  “Ye will not tell me what to—”

  “Make yer choice.”

  With gritted teeth, he spit out, “Marry the little brògan. She’s dead to me.”

  “Fine,” said Calum in a cheery voice. “And as dowry, she’ll bring along anything her ma would have given her. As a wedding gift, ye’ll give them the sheep in the back, seeing they already have MacDunn’s lug mark. Agreed?”

  “Aye,” Ross growled.

  “Rory MacDunn, will ye take the lass in? They canna live with the Craiggs.”

  “Aye,” Rory said, giving a sharp elbow to his son. “See what comes from trusting the chieftain? Justice.”

  “And a lovely wife,” added the minister, also ignoring the irate father.

  “And there’ll be no laying of hands on the lass before she leaves yer home. Do we have an understanding?”

  Craigg jerked his head in assent but looked directly at Gideon, his eyes blazing with hate. “I dinna ken why this is any of yer affair or how ye were privy to my business. But it’s not over yet.”

  “Mind yerself, Ross. Ye’re lucky the MacNaughton is a generous man,” the minister said grimly. “Dinna put more strife upon yerself or yer family. Let it go.”

  Calum smiled at the young couple. “We came with an invitation to MacNaughton Castle, a cèilidh to celebrate the return of my daughter, Maeve. I’m thinking we may as well as have a wedding while we’re at it.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Lord, help my poor soul.”

  Edgar Allen Poe

  Early October

  MacNaughton Castle

  Peigi had not taken kindly to a wedding added on to her agenda. She capitulated once Calum explained the circumstances. Ross was known for his cruel streak, making him a black sheep in the Craigg clan. His daughter Nessie would be better off with the MacDunns. That made Alisabeth giggle. A black sheep, and it was sheep that caught him up. The mirth faded as she remembered the rumors of his simmering anger and mutters of betrayal.

  Gideon had relayed the details on the trip home, and she still wondered how the men had managed to uncover the mystery in so short a time. Oh, how she would have enjoyed seeing the look on her cousin’s face when Calum threatened to flog him. That was why he was chieftain. Few men could make threats like the MacNaughton. Fewer men could carry them out, and he was known for keeping his word—good or bad.

  Alisabeth pulled her stockings up, tied the garters, and slid on her leather shoes. Smoothing down her satin skirts of deep blue, the color reminded her of a clear midnight sky. The sheer matching lace covered her hair, pulled high on her head and falling in ringlets. She arranged the plaid about her shoulders and tugged at the curls about her face. With a sigh, she approved her image in the looking glass and twisted the band still on her finger. The circle of continuous love. She said a silent prayer that tears would not mar the day when the young couple exchanged their rings.

  The last three weeks of preparation had been hectic, and now it was time to celebrate. Last Sunday Reverend Robertson had announced the union of Nessie and Hamish for the third time. Today they would be married at the small chapel on the MacNaughton land. The meat was prepared and refreshments ready. Venison and pig sizzled on spits. Dishes for the rest of the courses, along with baked goods, were cooling or simmering in the kitchen. Alisabeth had made the bridescake herself since her cousin had refused to let Nessie’s mother attend the ceremony. Her own parents would be standing in their place for the Craigg clan.

  In the main hall, Peigi gave last minute orders to housemaids and cooks. “Be certain there is plenty of wine and ale. My husband willna be happy if we run out of either. Once the food is served, ye may join in the festivities. Keep at least two on duty throughout the day and evening to check the pitchers and platters.” Guests already filled the hall for the late morning ceremony. She spotted Alisabeth across the room and beckoned with a wave.

  “It looks splendid, Peigi. Nessie willna believe such finery is for her wedding day.” Tressle tables lined one wall with small pies, breads, and fruit compotes. More tressles were set up with benches for eating and visiting, white linen spread across the wooden boards with candles and crystal water bowls for washing. Maeve and Glynis had seen to the table decorations and had personally supervised the making of the entwined circles of marzipan. The sugar creation sparkled and shed twinkling crumbs along the length of the linen. On the dais, silver goblets and plates had been set out for the guests of honor and their hosts.

  “It is a celebration for my daughter as well. Her visit is passing much too quickly, but I take comfort in the fact she’ll return again.” A whistle from the courtyard silenced the hall.

  “The bride is here. Everyone outside for the procession to the kirk,” called Maeve, her cheeks flushed. “Gideon, give me yer arm!”

  He stood at the entrance of the hall, his wine-colored tailcoat fitting snugly across his shoulders with an embroidered gold waistcoat and matching trousers. His intense gaze searched the room. Alisabeth’s breath caught when he found her. His blue eyes sparkled like a loch in springtime then his smile turned her stomach to jelly. He made his way through the room, offered his mother an arm then the other to Lissie. She took it with a grateful smile, her fingers light upon the hard muscle beneath the cloth, and joined the guests in the courtyard.

  Waiting in the wagon, Nessie glowed in her muslin rose gown. Her shining dark hair fell loose over her shoulders, crowned with a ringlet of pink flowers.

  “Right foot forward for good luck,” someone yelled.

  “Yer father hated these old wives’ tales. I’ve almost forgotten some of them,” laughed Maeve to Gideon as the girl stepped down with the correct foot.

  A piper led the procession, followed by neighbors sprinkling a trail of flower petals, and then the groom. The bagpipes serenaded the party as they stopped in front of the kirk. Hamish’s best man, Ian’s brother Lachlan, escorted Nessie. He had the same chestnut hair as his mother Glynis but his grandfather’s sapphire blue eyes. Lachlan had arrived from Glasgow the day before. It had been a disappointment that Lachlan’s younger brother and sister had been unable to attend, but many other clan members had made the journey. The men were splendid in their tartans with dress sporrans and glinting dirks, hair clean and shining, beards trimmed or faces shaved. The women wore their best satin or silk dresses or earasaids, plaids over their shoulders or across their chest, depending on their station.

&n
bsp; At the ancient kirk door, Reverend Robertson welcomed the couple. Hamish gave Nessie a sheaf of wheat, and she gave him a piece of woven cloth.

  Gideon whispered in Lissie’s ear, “What’s the meaning of that?”

  “It represents their promise to each other to provide for their home.”

  Next the couple exchanged a dagger and a bible. “This shows his physical pledge and her spiritual pledge to defend their home.”

  The guests crowded into the small church. Near the altar, Lachlan’s sword hissed as he unsheathed it to make a circle around the couple. As he did so, the couple said in unison,

  “The Mighty Three, my protection be, encircle me,

  You are around my life, my love, my home.

  Encircle me, O sacred three, the Mighty Thee.”

  Reverend Robertson finished the ceremony and presented the couple to the crowd. “You may kiss the bride.” Hamish took Nessie’s hands in his and stared at her for a long moment. Then he dipped his head, brushed his lips lightly across her mouth, and leaned his forehead against hers. The intensity of the love between them shone brightly and brought tears to Alisabeth’s eyes.

  For the first time, she regretted what she and Ian had not shared. Yes, they had loved each other but not like this couple. That pureness had been missing; that passion exploding not only in physical desire but also emotional need. The devotion and tenderness for one another that was so obvious between Nessie and Hamish had not been part of her marriage. She and Ian had settled for deep affection and friendship.

  Panic seized her as her fingers searched again for the silk gloves in her pocket. Ian could have found this kind of love with another if she had refused the betrothal. Had she denied him a chance of true happiness in his short life? Pain stabbed her chest. She was young and still had years in front of her. The thought that Fate may yet send her a love such as theirs sent a nauseating wave of guilt through her stomach.

  I’m so verra sorry if I robbed ye of such an opportunity. Ye ken how much I cared for ye, she silently told him. Alisabeth fought back tears when a blurry handkerchief appeared in front of her. She blinked twice, sniffled, and gratefully took it.

  “It’s usually my mother that needs this at a wedding so I came prepared,” whispered Gideon, squeezing her hand gently as she grasped the cloth in her palm. Her whole body tingled from his touch. The sensation replaced the pang of remorse in heart and put a smile on her face. She could not change the past so she would think only happy thoughts and enjoy the day.

  ***

  Gideon took his place on the dais next to his mother. They sat to the right of Calum and Peigi, the bride and groom on the left. Directly below, his aunt and cousin were seated with Alisabeth, her parents, and the MacDunn men. Calum stood, raised his glass, and made a toast to family and clan. Then he passed the two-handled quaich down the table. The couple filled the ancient vessel with whiskey and moved to the table below. Hamish gave it to his father, who took a drink then offered it to Alisabeth’s father, who did the same. The couple then drank from the cup, and the hall resounded with loud cheers.

  “That particular cup is a family relic but the Quaich is a tradition in weddings of different clans. The two handles are for the joining of the families.” Maeve lowered her voice. “Since Nessie’s parents are not here, Lissie’s have taken their place in the joining ritual.”

  Gideon found the entire ceremony intriguing. There seemed to be a reason or symbol for everything. His practical mind shook its head at some of the traditions, but another part of him embraced them. Customs bound these people together, gave them a common ground that transcended class or title. It was a comforting thought—that one belonged no matter his birth.

  The afternoon became a gluttonous affair. Wine, ale, and food flowed. Gideon had never tasted venison so tender or vegetables so well-seasoned. Every dish tempted him—until a platter was presented to his grandfather.

  “What in the devil is that?” he asked his mother. It looked like a roundish, oversized sausage.

  “Haggis. Oh, ye are in for a treat. Heart, liver, lung…”

  His stomach clenched.

  “Boiled in a sheep’s stomach,” she added wickedly.

  Calum took a polished blade to the bag, and the skin split, ground offal, oats and grains spilling out in a steaming heap. Much to Gideon’s surprise, the spicy aroma was pleasant. He took a polite bite or two and gave the rest to his mother.

  Once the meal was over, the music began. How a person could dance after so much food was baffling. In England, they danced and then ate at a later hour. The guests gathered in two long lines, couples across from one another, and the fiddler and small pipes took up a lively beat. The couples took turns weaving their way up and down the line, skipping to meet in the middle then back. It was similar to an English country-dance so Gideon knew he’d be able to muddle through a set if his mother asked.

  “My dear, I’ve been meaning to ask ye a favor.”

  He smiled, assuming she wanted a partner for the next set. “Anything within my power, Mama,” he answered generously as he took a drink.

  “I’d like to bring Lissie home with us.”

  He spit out the red wine. “W-what?” Picking up a cloth, he wiped his chin and dabbed at the spreading stains on the white linen.

  “Oh my, are ye all right?” she asked, pressing her lips together as her mouth curved ever so slightly. “I was thinking how lonely I get, and Etta won’t be staying long once we return. She’ll want to be home to have the baby. Ye’ll be busy, and with winter approaching, it would be nice to have some female company. I didna realize how much I’ve missed it since the girls have all gone.”

  “I understand. You just took me by surprise. Why Lissie?” he asked, wondering how to make the pulse stop pounding in his head. It had been difficult enough the past weeks being so near her, and the image of that exquisite creature in his home…

  “I’ve noticed the two of ye get along quite well. Ye play chess or cards most nights, ye sing well together, and she and I have the liveliest conversations. I thought it might be a nice distraction for ye also when ye’re home.” She smiled brightly and patted his hand. “I have a feeling it would be good for all of us.”

  “Only a feeling or did ye dream it?” His eyes narrowed. “We still need to have a conversation about that.”

  “Ye are right. She is the reason for my vision. The purpose for coming here.” Maeve sighed. “I dinna ken why, but she has a part to play in whatever the future holds.”

  Is that why he was drawn to her? Why she invaded his sleep and his heart lifted when she entered the room? Gideon threw back the rest of his wine. Maybe he should stop searching for logical explanations until he was back in England. “So, one mystery explained but another yet to be solved?”

  The groom’s father appeared and bowed low over Maeve’s hand. “Lady Stanfeld, ye are a vision tonight.”

  Or having one, Gideon thought ruefully.

  “Rory MacDunn, it’s been too long,” his mother purred.

  What was going on here? Was she flirting with this man?

  “That is not of my doing, ye ken.” He winked at her, a dimple showing in his cheek. “It seems we have something in common now, my lady.”

  “Aye, we do. Both of us widows.”

  “May I have the pleasure of the next dance?” His broad smile, perhaps the result of too much whiskey, crinkled the corners of his green eyes. “I would die a happy man tonight if I was to hold ye close for even a moment.”

  She stood with a dazzling smile then said over her shoulder, “Gideon, I do believe Lissie is in need of a partner.” Maeve offered her hand to the towering Scot and glided onto the dance floor.

  Heat reddened Gideon’s neck. What the devil was going on with his mother? And how could she know of his attraction to Lissie when he was just realizing it himself. Alisabeth’s pink cheeks told him she had overheard. He took comfort in their shared embarrassment and approached the table. “Would you care to da
nce?”

  She fumbled in her pocket, closed her lids for a brief moment, and looked up at him. It had not been embarrassment that stained her smooth complexion. The pain in her eyes hit him like a punch to the gut. He had the urge to pull her to him, stroke her hair, and make her troubles disappear. But the expression passed so quickly, he wondered if he’d misread it.

  “I would love to, my lord.”

  Her silky tone washed over him. Placing her fingers in his outstretched hand, he stiffened at the jolt of her skin against his. The slow burn began in his belly again, his body tense and hot. Nothing seemed strong enough to put out the fire. Gideon had never had such an intense reaction to a female. It unnerved him. Setting his shoulders straight, he was determined to act like a gentleman and pretend nothing was amiss.

  The fiddler gave a warning note and the couples lined up. The pipes joined in and the first couple cast off. Gideon frowned as his mother went around him and back to MacDunn. He’d almost forgotten how graceful and light she was on her feet. An appreciative gleam also shone in MacDunn’s eyes.

  When it was his turn, Gideon moved around his neighbor and met Lissie in the middle. Their fingers clasped, and he saw her intake of breath as they circled one another. It was the same each time their hands touched. She must also feel it. By the end of the dance, they were both breathing rapidly. He was glad for the excuse of physical exertion, though he was too fit for one dance to tire him. And the way she rode a horse, so was Lissie.

  He thanked her and returned to the dais. His mother soon followed, her laughter tinkling like a spoon against china. It pleased him to see her in such high spirits again but irritated him that it was a man who had achieved it. “Did you enjoy the dance?”

  “Oh yes, immensely. And it seemed ye did as well.” Maeve nodded her head to acknowledge a couple passing by. “What do ye think of my idea?” she asked, continuing to smile and nod at guests.

  Gideon realized putting miles between them would not erase Lissie from his memory. She was beautiful, intelligent, full of life, and could spin a tale as well as his mother. Everything his father had told him to avoid in a wife. If she came back to England, he’d know if the attraction was purely Lissie or if it had something to do with the allure of the Highlands. He would bide his time and see where it led. There was no hurry; he was a young man with no dire need for an heir right away. “I think if it makes you happy, it makes me happy.”