As the tables were cleared in preparation for the dancing to begin, Lawrence got to his feet. Expecting the usual speech, the villagers waited good-naturedly. ‘When I arrived here in Dunswaird,’ their new laird said, speaking slowly to give his factor time to translate, ‘I found your customs and laws most confusing. Things up here in the Highlands are very different from England. Many of the things are better. Your whisky, for example.’ Laughter rumbled. The villagers lifted their glasses in preparation for the toast. ‘And one thing—one person in particular, I have found better than any other in the world. Ladies and gentlemen of Dunswaird, I give you Jura Mcnair, who I am proud to tell you, has agreed to become my wife.’
A loud gasp greeted Jura as Lawrence helped her to her feet, followed quickly by applause, and a resounding cheer from her coterie of snowball-throwers. She blushed, gripping Lawrence’s hand tightly.
‘One of your traditions, I have discovered, I like very well indeed. I find that I can dispense with the tedious formalities which would mean waiting weeks to claim my bride.’
Turning to Jura, Lawrence looked deep into her eyes. No one seeing the look they exchanged could doubt the love they had for each other. A hush fell on the room. Even the bairns were caught up in it. Later, those present would swear that a purest red glow tinged with gold surrounded the happy pair. Later, there would be those who would swear the scent of honeysuckle filled the room.
‘I declare, in front of all present, that I, Lawrence Joseph Connaught, take you, Jura Mcnair, to be my lawful wedded wife.’
‘I declare, in front of all present, that I, Jura Mcnair, take you Lawrence Joseph Connaught, to be my lawful wedded husband.’
The kiss the newlyweds exchanged was every bit as fervent as their love. Amidst cheering, whistles, and a few shocked whispers, while the toasts were still being drunk and the fiddles scraped into life, Lawrence and Jura left the ceilidh hand in hand to begin their married life. Never, in the history of Dunswaird, all agreed, had a couple been seen to be so truly, perfectly in love.
Epilogue
St Stephen’s Day, 1823
Jura stood in front of the grave. ‘I only wish you could have lived to see our child,’ she said sadly. ‘You would have been so proud.’ The baby, tied in the traditional way in a shawl at her breast, gave a hearty cry.
‘I think our son is trying to tell us he’s hungry.’ Lawrence put an arm round his wife and smiled tenderly down into the child’s angry face.
‘Say goodbye to your grandmother,’ Jura said, smiling mistily. She kissed her fingers, and placed them on the gravestone. “Goodbye, Màthair. I can feel you are at peace now. I hope you know how happy I am. And I hope you do too, my own darling husband,’ she added, catching her breath as ever as she gazed into his eyes. The blue of rosemary flowers.
‘I do know that you can’t be any happier than I am,’ Lawrence said, wrapping her in his arms and kissing her.
‘You think you’re happy now,’ Jura said, emerging breathless, her eyes alight with love, ‘but I know how to make you happier.’
‘It’s not possible.’
She smiled the slow sensuous smile that she knew from delicious experience stirred his blood, but just to be sure, she let her hands trail over his thighs to the satisfyingly hard length of his erection. ‘Tonight,’ she said, ‘I think you will find that I am quite recovered from the birth.’
Lawrence shuddered. ‘Will a few hours make so much difference? What is wrong with this afternoon?’ he said, letting his hands slide down from her waist to cup her bottom.
Jura’s breathing quickened. That familiar and achingly missed knot of tension began to tighten low in her belly, but a hungry howl from the child at her breast quickly loosened it. ‘I think maybe…’
‘I think maybe you’re right,’ Lawrence said, laughing as he ushered his wife and son back to the waiting carriage. ‘What is a few hours, when we have a lifetime?’
If you enjoyed this story, don’t miss this other Harlequin Historical Undone ebooks in the Sinful Regency Christmas collection:
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Enjoy more passion through the ages with the sensual Harlequin Historical UNDONE titles on sale now:
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Craving something a little longer? Find more historical romantic adventure from Harlequin Historical at http://www.Harlequin.com or your local bookstore.
Interested in writing for Harlequin Historical UNDONE? Send your submission to [email protected].
Born and educated in Scotland, Marguerite Kaye originally qualified as a lawyer but chose not to practice. Instead, she carved out a career in IT and studied history part-time, gaining a first-class honours and a master’s degree. A few decades after winning a children’s national poetry competition, she decided to pursue her lifelong ambition to write, and submitted her first historical romance to Harlequin. They accepted it, and she’s been writing ever since.
You can contact Marguerite through her website at www.margueritekaye.com.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8273-5
Spellbound & Seduced
Copyright © 2011 by Marguerite Kaye
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