Sweet Hellion (The Marriage Maker Book 26)
Page 8
Stirling turned and left the room.
“John,” Munro began.
“Say nothing more, William,” the major general cut in, “or, by God, I will thrash you myself.”
“Moments later, Stirling returned with two of the largest men Rhys had ever seen.
“Take him to the jail,” the major general ordered. “If he gives you any trouble, throw him on your horse unconscious.”
Munro shot Rhys a narrow-eyed glare as he passed, but said nothing.
“See me tomorrow, Captain,” the major general said, then extended Tory’s letter toward Emma. As she accepted it, he said, “Are you unharmed, Miss Bamfield?”
“I am much better now that Rhys’s honor has been restored.” Her gaze shifted to Stirling. “What are you doing here, sir?”
“I am a guest,” he said.
“I saw you in the market that day,” Emma said.
“What day would that be, Miss Bamfield?”
“I heard you talking about the Beasts of Blackstone Abbey. You were talking about Rhys.”
“Was I?” he replied with such innocence that Rhys was immediately on guard.
“That was how I knew what Rhys looked like,” she said.
“By God, Stirling,” the major general said, “are you still playing at matchmaking?”
Stirling laughed. “A harmless conversation in the market can hardly be called matchmaking.”
The major general shook his head. “For anyone but The Marriage Maker, perhaps.”
“The Marriage Maker?” Emma said.
The major general looked at her. “Have you not heard, Miss Bamfield? Sir Stirling is the infamous Marriage Maker.”
Emma stared.
“I believe we have been had,” Rhys said.
The major general said to Rhys, “Your father will be pleased. I shall send a letter to the earl tomorrow morning.”
“Earl?” Emma swung to face Rhys. “Your father is an earl?”
The major general unsuccessfully stifled a laugh. “Stirling, I believe we need a drink.”
A corner of Stirling’s mouth ticked up. “You are a mind reader, John.”
They left and Stirling closed the door.
Before the door clicked shut, Emma said, “Your father is an earl? You are a-a viscount?” She sank onto the nearest chair. “I shouldn’t have been calling you ‘sir.’ I should have been addressing you as ‘my lord.’”
“Does that mean you do not love me?” he asked.
Her head snapped up. “Love you? I am not allowed to love you. I wash floors and mend clothes.”
He grasped her arm and pulled her up and into his arms.
“Rhys, don’t torture me so.”
He tipped her head upward and covered her mouth with his. She melted against him. He swept his tongue inside her mouth and when she whimpered, Rhys’s cock hardened. He pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers.
“At least now, you do not have to go to Portugal,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Aye, lass, I do not have to go to Portugal. But there is something you should know.”
She pulled back. “Please don’t say the words, Rhys—er, my lord. I cannot bear to hear the words.”
“I left him, Emma. I didn’t know.”
She extended Tory’s letter toward him.
Rhys’s chest tightened “You dinnae have to do this, Emma.”
She smiled and pressed the letter into his hand.
His hands shook as he read.
Emma,
By now, no doubt, you believe me dead. I nearly was. After the battle, I was found by the men who cleared the battlefield. They also thought me dead. Someone realized I was breathing, however, and called a doctor. I have been in the hospital since, unconscious. I know, it is too fantastical to be believed. Only three days ago I awoke, and today, I could speak well enough to ask for pen and paper.
I pray God you are well and have not mourned me terribly. I am healing well. I received your letter telling me about our father’s death. I am sorry, lass. When I return, we will visit Father’s grave together. Did he see you safely married? By now, you must have a bairn or two.
Have you met my friend Rhys? I told him to find you. He is a brave man. Ange vengeur. He saved those of us he could after Major Ross deserted us. He saved me. If not for him pulling me off the field, I would have surely died beneath the dead. I will return soon, Stinkpot. If that husband of yours is not treating you right, I will shoot him.
Love,
Your brother
Tory
Rhys stared at the letter, still unable to believe Tory was alive. He looked at her. “I am sorry.”
She frowned. “Sorry?” Emma tugged the letter free of his grasp, then looked at it. “See here?” She pointed at the lines, Ange vengeur. He saved those of us he could after Major Ross deserted us. He saved me. If not for him pulling me off the field, I would have surely died beneath the dead.
Her eyes lifted to his face. “He says you saved him.”
“But—”
She stepped closer and placed a finger on his lips. “It isn’t your fault.” She gave him a gentle smile. “You saved him. Saved me.”
He caught her to him. “Marry me.”
She shook her head and opened her mouth to say no, but he kissed her again. When he broke the kiss, he said, “We have to get started on those bairns Tory thinks you have.”
“Are you certain?” she asked.
Rhys hugged her close. “The moment we arrive at Blackstone Abbey, I will procure a license.”
She looked up at him and smiled. Rhys was certain he’d never seen any woman more beautiful.
Chapter Twelve
Emma leaned against the window in the upstairs room of Blackstone Abbey’s chapel. The day seemed so long ago that she’d tried to shoot Rhys.
At the patter of footsteps behind her, she glanced over to see Kyla, Ewan’s wife, pause in the doorway, a bouquet of dried roses in hand. “Come, Emma. It is time.”
Emma shivered. Time to say her vows.
“Are you ready?” Molly popped her head over Kyla’s shoulder.
Emma smiled and nodded. “Aye.”
“You are so beautiful.” Kyla’s brown eyes sparkled as she pressed the bouquet into Emma’s hands.
Gingerly, Emma accepted them. They matched the pink rosettes on her white muslin gown. “They are so bonny. Thank you, Kyla.”
Kyla squeezed her arm. “Rhys is so fortunate to have found you.”
“Perhaps,” Emma said.
They walked in companionable silence down the abbey’s arched halls toward the chapel, but at the sound of voices in the courtyard, they paused.
“Unexpected guests?” Kyla asked.
They detoured to the courtyard to see Rhys and the Frasier brothers standing in the courtyard, watching a horseman clatter under the abbey gates. Emma’s heart skipped a beat. Rhys looked so handsome in his captain’s coat, his shoulders so broad and his waist so lean. Rhys caught her gaze and exchanged with her a knowing look, then faced the approaching horseman…the major general, she realized.
“Major General,” Rhys’s deep baritone rang across the courtyard in greeting, as the major general stopped his horse in front of Rhys.
He dismounted. “Forgive me for arriving unannounced, Captain Macleod.”
“I am honored.” Rhys gave a slight bow. “You are more than welcome to attend.”
“I thank you.” His keen eyes took on a decided gleam. “Pray, forgive me for bringing another guest unannounced.”
Emma scanned the empty courtyard behind the major general.
A gust of wind blew a dry leaf across the stones.
Rhys frowned. “Pardon, sir?”
The man chuckled, then turned toward the gate and called out, “Please, join us.”
The impressive muzzle of a massive gray showed his nose first, and on its back, sat a crag-faced mountain of a man with grizzled gray hair, wearing the same green weave of kilt Emma
had seen on Rhys so many times before.
Rhys stood rigid, in shock. Slowly, the man guided his mountain horse forward and in silence, dismounted. No one spoke as he walked straight to Rhys. They stood, two towering beasts of men.
At last, the older man said, “Forgive me, my son. Come home.”
Rhys embraced his father and wept.
Chapter Thirteen
A month later, after the farewells to all at Blackstone Abbey had been said—for the fifth time—and Rhys had promised to return in a fortnight to plan next season’s planting and to be there for Tory, who was expected to arrive, Rhys extended a hand toward Emma. “Lady Northwood, may I assist you?”
Despite the fact it was ten in the morning, Emma suppressed a yawn as he handed her into the carriage. He couldn’t fault her for her exhaustion. They’d dozed no more than an hour or two the entire night.
“Lady.” Emma wrinkled her nose as she adjusted her skirts on the leather tufted seats. “I fear I shan’t get used to that.”
“You will.” He sat by her side, then rapped on the carriage door. The vehicle began to roll forward.
Emma yawned again.
“Sleep, lass,” he urged. “We have many miles to go.”
Emma smiled. “Perhaps, a small nap couldn’t hurt. You did keep me awake the entire night, my lord.”
He chuckled. “I can think of at least two occasions when you prevented me from taking rest.”
“Oh? Perhaps.” With a contented sigh, she snuggled against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
Rhys stared out the window, over Blackstone Abbey’s land. Such was the difference of mere weeks. Now, he was a man with his reputation and inheritance restored and he was taking Emma to his ancestral home where their firstborn children would enter the world. He smiled and placed a hand on her belly. Already, they suspected their firstborn grew in her womb.
Burrowed in the cradle of his arm, Emma began to softly snore. Rhys grinned and, with a yawn, laid his head back on the leather seat and fell into a peaceful sleep.
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Other Marriage Maker Collections
Other books in The Beasts of Blackstone Abbey collection
A Heart Worth Loving
A Scoundrel’s Promise
A Match Made in the Highlands
The Original Marriage Maker Saga
Worth of a Lady
The Marriage Wager
A Lady by Chance
How to Catch an Heiress
Rules of Refinement
One Good Gentleman
Shameless
Redemption of a Marquess
A Marriage of Necessity
The Marriage Maker Goes Undercover
A Scoundrel in the Making
Her Wicked Highland Spy
My Lady of Danger
The Marriage Obligation
Daughters of Scandal Collection
A Lady in Pearls
A Most Unusual Scandal
The Lady’s Book of Love
Brazen
The Marriage Maker and the Widows
Rake Ruiner
Marrying the Belle of Edinburgh
Widow’s Treasure
Seduction of a Widow
Flowers of Scotland
The Maid of Inverness
Dreaming of a Gentleman
Reckless Desire
Coming Soon
Flowers of Scotland
A Rose in Disguise
The Marriage Maker’s Forbidden Love
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