The Marriage Ring

by Cathy Maxwell

  The offer didn’t need to be repeated. Richard rolled off her, scooped her up in his arms, carried her over to the fire, and lowered her into the tub of still hot water, but not before he’d threatened to drop her into it. She shrieked with laughter and gave him a kiss to behave.

  He sat down beside the tub and picked up the soap.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, knowing full well.

  “I thought I’d give you a scrub.”

  “And then do I receive the opportunity to return the scrub?”

  His smile widened. “I was hoping you’d offer.” He reached for her foot, her most ticklish part, and scrubbed her up from there. It wasn’t long before they were both in the tub together.

  Later, Grace straddled his legs in the tub as she gave him a shave. She’d not done it before. Richard teased her by pretending to be nicked here and there, but overall, she believed she did a very good job. The task was a challenge with her subject intent on teasing her breasts and nibbling on her earlobes, her most sensitive spots.

  But her favorite part of the evening came when they curled up in bed beside each other, their bodies spooned together, his arm resting protectively over her shoulder.

  “So, what is the biggest difference?” she whispered, setting her wonderings to words.

  “We are no longer alone,” he answered, a yawn in his voice.

  He was right. Her life had been busy and full of challenges so she had not realized how tired she was of always being alone. Even when there had been a man in her life, she’d been lonely because there had been no meaning in those relationships. None at all.

  “I wish you’d been my first,” she said.

  He snuggled her closer, surrounding her with his masculine presence. “I am,” he said confidently. “I’m the first you’ve loved.”

  That was so true. She was no longer alone. She was loved.

  Grace rubbed her back against his chest and fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

  Richard was the first to wake.

  The day was well under way when he opened his eyes. Grace still slept soundly and he didn’t have the heart to wake her—although he was sorely tempted.

  Instead, he watched her sleep, realizing her well-being meant more to him than his lust. He loved her. The words had a music all their own.

  He wanted to marry her. He wanted her to be the woman to wear his ring. He couldn’t imagine spending even one day more of his life without her as his wife.

  Richard became a man with a mission. He would buy her a marriage ring. He knew a ring would surprise and please Grace. They could marry here in Lanark. He was certain the vicar at St. Nicholas would perform the ceremony. Banns were not needed in Scotland. For that reason, couples eloped here all the time.

  But first, he had to have a ring.

  He rose from the bed and hurriedly dressed. They were going to need some new clothes, too. Especially Grace. The dress she’d ripped wouldn’t be decent much longer.

  Shaving was a bit of a chore. Looking in the small mirror over the washstand he could see a number of places she missed and he had a good idea why. He’d done his best to distract her.

  He rinsed off his razor, catching a glimpse of her in the mirror. She hugged the pillow like someone who enjoyed her sleep, whereas he never missed an early morning. But the difference, like all the others between them, made her more perfect to him. They were a team. When one was weak, the other strong. When one was afraid, the other bold.

  The ring he’d buy would be a simple band. First, he’d arrange for their transportation to Inverness and with the rest settle his bill and buy the ring. Then, in London, where he would have easy access to his funds, he’d buy her the marriage ring of her dreams. And earrings and a necklace to match, he decided. He’d deck her with jewels from head to toe. He was a wealthy man and he wanted to spend it all on his wife.

  As he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, he wondered if she’d want sapphires the color of her eyes, or perhaps rubies. The bold red would look good against her skin and with her black hair.

  Mrs. Fraley was sweeping out the taproom. “Good morning to you, Mr. Bull.”

  Richard laughed at the title, but didn’t correct her. “Good morning. I need to settle the bill, Mrs. Fraley.”

  “You are going to break your fast, aren’t you? Your wife needs her food for the bairn.”

  The baby. He’d forgotten their ruse.

  In fact, by now it might not be a ruse. Grace might actually be carrying his child. The thought filled him with pride. His child. His family.

  “Something must please you,” Mrs. Fraley observed. “You have the largest smile across your face that I’ve seen on any a man.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Fraley, something has pleased me. It pleases me very much. We’ll breakfast here but I want to do a bit of shopping. I’d like to buy a dress for my lady and a ring. I also need to hire a vehicle to take us to Inverness to meet her father. Where should I go to find all these things?”

  The inn mistress directed him to the blacksmith on the other side of Lanark who could help with the horses and mentioned a dressmaker who often had items made up. The ring was more of a challenge. There had been a tinker in the market that carried gold.

  “I’m assuming you want it of gold and not base metal?” she asked, her tone letting him know what his answer should be.

  “I do.”

  “Then go to the field where you had your fight and see if the tinker is still there. His name is Liam. He’s an Irishman and has the charm, although he’ll talk your ear off, and you into a higher price if you let him.”

  “I won’t let him.”

  “Good,” she said, smiling her approval. “If your lady wakes, what should I tell her?”

  “Don’t tell her about the ring. That’s a surprise. Just say I’ve gone to hire a vehicle to take us to her father’s. That should be enough.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Richard paid for their room and went off to see the blacksmith. There weren’t any vehicles to be had around Lanark but he knew someone leaving for Glasgow after noon who could give him a ride there. “You can hire a fine post chaise in Glasgow,” he told Richard and sent his son off to deliver a message to Angus Livingstone asking if he would like passengers. “He’ll say yes. He saw your fight yesterday and will want to give you some tips.” He said that last with a wink before turning back to his fire and anvil.

  The dressmaker did have a frock that should fit Grace. The dress was the dark green of summer with a square neck trimmed in lace. The dressmaker had been refashioning it for a local woman who had decided she no longer liked the color. “Some women can never make up their minds,” she confided to Richard.

  “Would you wrap it up?”

  “Certainly. And if it needs a stitch or two to make it right, bring her by,” the dressmaker offered. “By the way, that was a good fight yesterday.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Richard said.

  The dressmaker didn’t take more than a blink to wrap the dress in paper. Richard left the shop with a sense of pride over his purchase. He liked the color and thought it would suit Grace. He also liked having a woman in his life and buying gifts for her.

  His next search was for the tinker. He caught Liam the Irish tinker in the field of yesterday’s fight, just as Mrs. Fraley said he would. The man was readying to leave but was more than happy to open his cart when he heard what Richard wanted.

  “A marriage ring,” Liam said, searching through the boxes and bins in disarray inside his cart. “Keep them all here, well, I thought I did. I tell you a man would lose his nose, or something more important, if it wasn’t attached to his body.” He laughed at his own humor and went digging some more.

  “Here it is,” he said at last, pulling out of a tiny box a dirty wad of rag.

  Richard wished now he’d not come. He’d been gone an hour. Grace might be up and wondering where he was. “That’s all right. I don’t really need the ring.” He started
to walk away but Liam grabbed his arm.

  “Here it ’tis, right where I thought it would be,” he said, pushing back the dirty cloth to reveal a ring of solid gold.

  But it wasn’t just any ring. Tiny, delicate leaves were carved into the design and after every third leaf was a Celtic symbol.

  “It’s a lover’s knot,” Liam said, pointing to the four symbols. “One to the north, one to the south, then the east and west. The symbol has no ending and no beginning. It means forever.”

  “I’ll take it,” Richard said, holding the ring to the light. The band was a delicate thing. It seemed tiny. He slipped the ring on his own hand, fitting it to the top of his little finger. “How much?”

  “Ah, well, a ring like this…’tis one of a kind.”

  “All I have is twenty pounds,” Richard said.

  “That hurts,” Liam said, dramatically clutching his chest. “Look at the ring. I carried it straight from Ireland, I did. And you can only offer twenty pounds?”

  “It’s all I have,” Richard answered, wise to the tinker’s ways. He handed the ring back to the man. “Thank you.”

  He turned away, started to walk off when Liam called him back. “Very well, twenty pounds but only because I have a soft spot in my heart for a lover—and because you did so well in that fight yesterday.”

  Richard pulled out the coins before the tinker could change his mind. With a good day, he set off with his purchases, very pleased with himself.

  Grace would adore the ring and the idea of marrying her before they left for Glasgow took greater hold in his mind, so his step was light as he hurried back to the Thistle.

  As he approached the inn, he saw a movement in an upstairs window and recognized Grace. She caught sight of him and opened the window. Her hair was loose and free over one shoulder. She was wearing the blue dress with the ripped bodice.

  “I have something for you,” he said proudly, holding up his dress package.

  Her eyes lit up. “Bring it to me.”

  He laughed and ducked into the inn, nodding to two old men who had taken up residence on a bench outside the door. He took the steps up to their room two at a time.

  Grace was holding the door open, waiting for him. He held out the dress package. She carried it into the room and ripped off the paper.

  Her breath caught. She raised the dress, shaking it out. “This is lovely,” she said. She held it up to her person.

  “Will it fit?” Richard asked, a bit anxious. “The dressmaker said we could stop by and she’d take a stitch or two if it didn’t.”

  Her answer was to give him a big loving kiss. “Let’s see if it fits,” she said and started to undress.

  Of course, then she couldn’t try on the dress because Richard couldn’t help himself and went for another kiss…which led them back to the bed.

  Holding her in his arms, he toyed with the idea of giving her the ring now. He decided against it. Offering the ring shouldn’t be like a man giving presents to a mistress. It should be done with some formality, some style. He decided he’d do it over breakfast.

  Rising from the bed, he gave her another kiss and began to dress. “You take your time,” he told her. “I’ll go down and tell Mrs. Farley we are almost ready for breakfast.”

  “Wait,” Grace answered. “I won’t take long to dress, plus I could use your help tying the sash on the dress.”

  She was true to her word. Grace wasn’t a fussy woman, nor did she need to be. She threw the dress over her head. “It’s a bit long and a tad snug here,” she said, indicating her bodice. “But I don’t think you will mind.”

  “Not one complaint,” Richard agreed. The dress was spectacular on her. The high waist emphasized the fullness of her breasts. The sleeves were short with the same lace trim as the bodice and the material was such that the skirt seemed to move and sway with her every movement.

  “It’s so elegant,” Grace said as he tied the sash into a low bow the way she instructed him to do since such a style was all the rage. She stepped back, holding her arms open. “What do you think?”

  “I believe I have very good taste,” he said.

  She laughed. “I agree.” She folded her old dress and picked up her cape. “Let’s go for our breakfast. I’m starving.”

  “And when we reach the dining room, I have another surprise,” Richard said.

  “What is it?” Grace asked.

  “Downstairs,” he insisted.

  She threw open the door. “Then let’s go.”

  They went downstairs, laughing and arguing over which one was the more hungry and could eat the most.

  However the laughter stopped as they entered the dining room. They had visitors.

  His father and his uncle sat at a table drinking cider and coffee. They wore traveling clothes and their boots were muddy as if they had ridden very hard. His uncle noticed him first.

  “Richard, at last we’ve caught up with each other.”

  His father rose from his chair. His face was pale and he looked very tired.

  Not his uncle. He was the picture of good humor and health. “Please, sit down and join us,” he invited. “We ran into a traveling fighter and their manager in Glasgow last night who had unkind words to say about John Bull. Your father and I sensed it was you. I say, I’m glad to see you took my advice, nephew, and have been enjoying your time with Miss MacEachin. Well done.” He gave her a wink before adding, “There are some wagers on the betting books that will pay off handsomely—but you already knew that.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Grace was absolutely certain Lord Maven was baiting her. She had more faith in her man than that. Richard was incapable of using a word like “love” lightly.

  So she found it easy to keep her composure and walk into the room, holding out her hand to say, “Good morning, Lord Maven, did you bring your murderous coachman with you? And, Lord Brandt, have you hired a new valet yet?”

  Her words wiped the smirk off Lord Maven’s face. The brothers exchanged glances.

  In truth, she found it eerie how similar the twins looked in appearance. Even the lines of their faces seemed marked in the same places. And the way they were looking at each other just now, as if they could communicate without words, was also unsettling.

  Richard came up behind her, placing reassuring hands on her shoulders. “Father, I need to know, did you order Herbert to murder Miss MacEachin?”

  His father turned from his twin. His gaze landed on Richard’s hand on Grace’s shoulders before he looked back up and said soberly, “Yes, Richard, I did.”

  For a second, Grace didn’t believe her ears. She had been right, but she felt no elation. If anything his father’s matter-of-fact admission sickened her.

  Richard’s hand squeezed her shoulder. “Well, then you will understand why we can’t stay a second more under the same roof together. Come, Grace.” He started out the door with her at his side.

  “Don’t be dramatic,” his uncle said, stepping into their path.

  “By your order, Herbert attempted to kill her and almost cost me my life,” Richard continued. “And you are accusing me of being dramatic? Be honest, uncle, my death would not sadden you. You have considered me an intrusion since I was born. Perhaps you have hoped Miss MacEachin and I die together.”

  “I would not see you harmed, Richard,” his father said. “And you are unfair to Stephen. You are our heir, for God’s sake. It all became a bit carried away.”

  “Yes, why would we wish to lose the one man who knows all our business affairs,” his uncle chimed in. Grace detested his flippancy. “After all, a man must do what he must to protect his interests.”

  “Apparently I didn’t know all,” Richard said. “I didn’t know about your roles stealing Dame Mary Ewing’s money. Perhaps you should have had me murdered…since you will be handling your financial matters alone in the future.”

  Grace was so proud of him she could have kissed him. He started to walk out again.

 
“Wait,” his father called out. “Richard, you deserve to hear the full story. You owe us that much. If after hearing our tale you wish to leave, then go with our blessing.”

  “Yes, Richard. A hearing. That’s all we ask,” his uncle agreed.

  Richard stood in indecision and Grace knew he had to hear the story. But she had one important question. “Did you send the men who attacked me after my final performance?”

  “No,” Richard’s father said. “We were surprised to hear of the attack, and I’ll be honest enough to admit we were not disappointed by it. But it did give us the idea to have you disappear on the road to Scotland.”

  “Why should we believe you?” Richard asked. “Thinking back, I didn’t sense you were so terribly surprised when I told you of the attack.”

  “That’s because we’d heard the rumors,” his uncle said. “We were hoping someone else would take care of Miss MacEachin for us.”

  “And what were the rumors?” Richard demanded.

  “That Lord Stone had had enough of Miss MacEachin’s ignoring his gifts and flowers. His besetting sin is pride and he bragged to everyone he would bed her. They said he was thinking to do things the rough way by kidnapping her. He was to be out of town for several days but had invited a party of men to his hunting lodge for what he promised would be a grand treat. I believe, Miss MacEachin, you were to be the treat.”

  Her stomach turned at the thought of it.

  “However, a curious thing happened with Stone,” his father continued. “He disappeared for several days but showed up in someone’s hay bin. He’d been bound and gagged, so no one knew he was there. I suppose pride kept him from making too much of a fuss. Anyway, he was dumped into the bin and no one was the wiser until a stable lad went to feed the horses and out popped Stone’s head.”

  His uncle started laughing. “They said after they took the gag off, they wanted to put it back on because he was so foul.”

  “And did he say what happened?” Richard asked, his voice carefully neutral.

  “He refuses to discuss the matter,” his uncle replied. “You went to school with him, didn’t you, nephew?”