“Oh, goodness, how careless of me!” Flora belt down to retrieve his coat and brushed the snow off, vaguely wishing that it had never fallen to begin with. Her teeth were beginning to chatter. She passed the jacket back to him and he immediately dug through one of the pockets. “Is something amiss?”
“Yes. I mean…no,” he muttered, until his fist closed over something small. He draped the coat over the short wall and turned to her. “You love me, Flora, yes?”
“You know that I do.”
Andrew dropped to his knee in the snow and lifted up a small, black, leather box. “Flora, I’ve loved you from afar as a beautiful lady I could never dream of obtaining. Then I loved you as a funny, Scottish lass who always kept me guessing. And I love you more now as we stand in the snow that will always remind you of your home as I take you back to mine.”
“Andrew…”
He flipped open the box’s lid to show her a stunning ruby, held by a pair of delicate golf thistles. “Flora, I love you most ardently, most purely, and will continue to do so for the rest of my life if you agree to marry me.”
Flora felt tears prick her eyes for the hundredth time that week, but for the first time, it wasn’t out of fear, humiliation, or grief. But joy.
***
As they lay together, twisted atop her bed covers, Flora stared at the stunning gem upon her ring finger. She pressed her lips to his neck and whispered, “You did a marvelous job selecting this.”
“I’m so glad you like it,” he told her, brushing her tangled hair away from her face. “But now you must give it back.”
Flora balked. “What?”
He nodded grimly. “Yes, this ring is only for my bride, which you never agreed to be.”
“What do you mean?” She motioned down to their nude bodies. “We’re in bed together.”
“Yes, I showed you this little bauble and you practically dragged me down the stairs into your chambers and ravished me,” he declared with a sigh. “I’m quite scandalized.”
Flora giggled, giving him a small shove. “I assumed that my actions meant that I accepted your proposal.”
“Without a definite acceptance, how am I to know your true thoughts?” He skimmed his fingers over the curve of her shoulder and around the modest swell of her breast. “Without a resounding yes, we’re merely lovers.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He kissed her lightly. “Nothing with you can ever be bad.”
“Now, tell me about this wonderful ring. It looks as if it has a marvelous story to tell.” She held it up, the lamplight casting a pleasant glow. It felt as if she was holding a flame in her grasp.
“Well,” he began, taking her hand and lacing his fingers with hers. “I purchased this ruby from a lovely little jeweler. Cost an arm and a leg, but I told him that I could only have the best for my fiery Scottish lady.”
“Is that what you called me?” she asked with a wry smile.
“Isn’t that what you are?” When Flora didn’t answer, he continued, “That jeweler didn’t do the kind of work I wanted for the band, so I brought the stone with me to Scotland.”
“You did?”
“I did. When we reached Edinburgh, I took it to a master of fine jewelry one of my uncle’s clients knows. He was able to help me select this band for you. I wanted you to have a piece of Scotland wherever you went. So now you have an English ruby and a band of Scottish gold.”
“A blending of two worlds,” she noted, looking at their interlocked hands.
“A blending of our worlds,” he replied, pressing his lips to the stone before moving on to the delicate skin of her neck. “Now, Flora, about that yes…”
Epilogue
Flora watched Gwen pace with interest. Her little sister looked oddly vexed in a way she hadn’t seen for quite some time. Her blonde curls bounced around her flushed cheeks as she turned back to Flora and finished sticking sprigs of orange blossoms into her braids.
“You’re looking awfully irritated,” Flora said as Gwen muttered something under her breath in Gaelic. “You never speak Gàidhlig unless you’re particularly upset or scared.”
Gwen frowned and adjusted Flora’s veil before pinning it onto her looped hair. “I’m sorry. You’re the one getting married. If anyone should be acting like a brat, it’s you. So, tell me, are you frightened that you’ll be walking down the aisle in less than an hour?”
“No, no, I want to hear why you’re stomping about like a child. It’s rare you throw such a fit.” Flora welcomed the respite of all attentions being on her. Normally, she would relish the constant petting, but it was beginning to overwhelm her.
“Well, the Portuguese trader tried to short me,” Gwen explained, leaning over the dressing table to dab a bit of rouge on her cheeks and lips. “He came late last night to deliver cases of Italian wine for your wedding, among some other frivolities, and tried to short me.”
“How so?”
“Well, each lot was to be bought for seventy-two pounds each, as each bottle was twelve pounds and sent as cases of six. As our men were loading them into the carts this morning, one remarked that Italian wine was much lighter than the French. Well, I marched right up—”
“You were there?” Flora couldn’t imagine her tiny sister bossing about a bunch of men, but then again, she had seen stranger things.
“Of course I was! I needed to ensure everything would be perfect. And so I ordered one be opened. The Portuguese weren’t too thrilled, but one of our men did and I saw a bottle was missing! They had repacked the cases in sets of five, while still charging the seventy-two pounds.” Gwen’s eyes flashed. “The gall of those Portuguese. Well, I told their captain—”
“Their captain? Is he wildly fierce with a big beard?” Flora asked, wondering if he was anything like the pirates she had read about in novels with a peg leg and pet monkey.
She shook her head and her cheeks pinked again, noticeable even through the rouge. “No, his name is Gaspar Florencio and he’s terribly young. Perhaps Conner’s age.”
“And tell me, what did you tell Captain Gaspar Florencio?”
“I told him that he had best right the wrong done to our house or I’d have his hand cut off for stealing and his ship burned.”
Flora gasped, stunned at her sister’s harsh sentence. “Dear Lord, that’s rather extreme.”
“No one spoils your wedding day, Flora.”
“I believe you.” Flora giggled, still slightly shocked at her sister’s demands. “So, did he right his wrong, or is there a burning boat in the sea?”
“We now have eighty bottles of wine, several rolls of silk, and he even sent some select pieces of jewelry as a wedding gift for you,” she announced proudly. “Now, we must get ready to have you wed. You’ve made Andrew wait nearly four months.”
“I needed to have orange blossoms and it was the fastest I could have them readied in London for Charlie to fetch.”
“You delayed your wedding for a flower?” Gwen laughed.
Flora stood and began to shake out her skirts, feeling a bit embarrassed. “It’s considered good luck in England to have orange blossoms. We’re already being wed in the highlands in our family’s chapel, but I wanted to be a British bride for Andrew.”
“He makes you happy, doesn’t he?”
“Of course he does, you little nitwit,” Flora shot back with a grin.
“There are my two favorite wee lasses!” Conner bellowed as he opened the door to the small room attached to the chapel.
Gwen glowered up at him. “Conner, Flora could have been getting dressed!”
“Do no’ fash, she’s already in her gown! There’s naught to fuss over. Besides, shouldn’t ye go find a husband in the crowd? Lord knows one o’ my lasses, or my men if ye count Drum, gets married off at each weddin’.” Conner leaned over and kissed Flora on the cheek. “Ye look lovely, Flora.”
“Thank you, Conner.” Flora took one last look in the dressing mirror, adjusting the
sheer sleeves that covered her arms.
“Stop fussin’, lass. Ye look like a right English rose in that dress,” Conner said, holding out his arm for her to take.
Flora looked up, seeing that Gwen was already gone, away to take her seat at the front of the church. She took a deep breath and scooped up her bouquet of orange blossoms and white winter roses. Conner led her from the room and into the small alcove before the double doors to the chapel. It was strange to think that just a year ago, she had helped Penelope ready herself in that same church, and there she was, preparing to become Mrs. Philips.
As soon as a set of page bows opened the heavy doors, the organist struck up a wedding tune and Conner and Flora began their walk down the aisle. The pews has been strung with ivy and white flowers, and she could see the faces of those she loved as they passed—Andrew’s parents, Charlie, Penelope and Drum, Charlotte with baby Alec, her two elder sisters with their husbands and children, her mother weeping into a white handkerchief, and Gwen, beaming at her from the front of the church.
Then her gaze fell upon Andrew. He stood before the altar, the stained-glass windows enveloping him in an otherworldly glow. His dark red hair was brushed off his forehead and he smiled fondly down at her as she approached, his dimple on display. She could almost see him bouncing as she took the final steps to his side alone.
The priest cleared his throat as Flora passed her flowers off to Gwen and Andrew took both her hands in his and gave them a gentle squeeze. Once the guests had stopped all whispers of good wishes and compliments, the ceremony began.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the priest began in heavily accented English. “We come here this day to join together Andrew Thomas Philips and Flora Fiona MacLeod in the bonds of holy matrimony. At the bequest of the couple, I have been asked to make the vows as short as their courtship, but as meaningful as their love.”
The crowd tittered in interested approval.
The priest turned to Andrew. “Andrew, do you take this woman, Flora, to be your lawful wedded wife in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer? Do you swear to be true to her every day of her life, to pray for her, to worship your marriage, and to hold true these vows which you take today?”
“Always,” replied Andrew, his gaze fixed upon her.
“It’s I do, lad,” the priest informed him in a loud whisper.
Andrew grinned. “I do.”
“Better.” The priest nodded and turned his attention to Flora. “Flora, do you take this man, Andrew, to be your lawful wedded husband in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer? Do you swear to be true to him every day of his life, to pray for him, to worship your marriage, and to hold true these vows which you take today?”
“I do,” Flora stated clearly with a saucy smile. She was rather looking forward to teasing Andrew about forgetting his one and only line in the wedding.
“The rings?” The priest motioned and Gwen passed Flora a ring of gold while Andrew took the delicate counterpart from his own pocket. “Now, repeat after me…with this ring, I thee wed.”
“With this ring, I thee wed,” they said in turn, each staring at their new rings.
The priest then closed his bible. “Then by the power invested in me by our Lord, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Andrew cupped Flora’s cheek and kissed her sweetly on the lips before the roaring audience. “I love you.”
“And that’s all the kiss I get?” she shot back, pulling him closer.
“Flora, wait until we’re outside. Then I plan on doing a great many things to you,” he whispered in a low voice that made her heart race in anticipation.
“Then we best hurry to make it back to the castle before the guests.”
“Come, wife. I have a great many things I wish to do to you, and not much time in which to do them.”
And together they ran from the chapel, their hands locked and souls bound, into the snow.
BEFORE YOU GO…
DON’T MISS OUT!
Would you like to be a part of our FREEBIE FRIDAY LIST and get 5 FREE E-books sent to your inbox each week? Every week we send out different e-books including ALL different genres such as Romance, Suspense, Thriller, Westerns, Paranormal, New Adult, and much more! If you’d like to join over 9,500+ subscribers and growing, click below to be a part of FREEBIE FRIDAY…
Join FREEBIE FRIDAY!
Acknowledgements
A special thank you to my editor, Rosa Sophia, who ensures my books aren’t total hot messes, so I can be proud of the result.
And a hand to my lovely sorority sisters, who always have my back. SLAM!
About the Author
Kelsey McKnight is a university-educated historian from southern New Jersey. She has married her great loves of romance, history, and literature to create her first works that are set in Scotland. But she has recently begun to venture into the world of contemporary romance, drawing inspiration from true life. When she’s not writing, Kelsey can be found reading, drinking too much coffee, blogging, spending time with her family, and working for two separate nonprofit organizations.
Facebook:
Facebook.com/Kissatmidnight
Twitter:
Twitter.com/KelseyMMcK
Website:
Kissatmidnight.wordpress.com
Instagram:
Instagram.com/akissatmidnight
Goodreads:
Goodreads.com/Kelsey_McKnight
His Tarnished Ruby Page 21
