by Tarah Scott
Her husband lifted a brow. “All daughters?”
“One son.” Jessica laughed and sipped her wine. “I was serious when I said girls run in my family. Speaking of serious, what happened to Cobbs? He is missing three fingers on his left hand.”
He handed Jessica his cup and he held it while Patrick climbed onto the bed. Taking it from her, he explained, “Cobbs shares your love of animals. When I met him, he worked for an English sheep farmer in Sutherland. It was an unfortunate day. He’d found a badly injured dog up in the hills and insisted on helping the poor beast.”
“The dog bit him?” Jessica guessed.
“Aye, but it was no’ intentional. The poor dog was caught in a trap.” Patrick paused, drank a bit of wine. “Cobbs managed to free him and lost the fingers in the process. The poor dog then collapsed, so Cobbs carried him home to his cottage and tended him.”
“But that is a good story.” Jessica leaned forward, a bit more of her heart expanding for the manservant.
“It would have been without the English sheep farmer.” Patrick frowned. “The man wanted the dog off his lands. He feared the beast would go after his sheep. But the dog was a kind, quiet one, and, once healed, he was utterly devoted to Cobbs. He refused to give up the dog. Furthermore, he worried the landowner would do something to the beast.
“So Cobbs left.” Patrick finished his wine, then set the empty cup on the nightstand. “He came walking down the road with his dog the day my carriage lost a wheel. Cobbs repaired the wheel, his dog leapt up onto the driver’s seat, wagged its tail, and, well…”
“He stayed with you.”
“Aye.” Patrick stood, fully naked, wonderfully dashing. “I never regretted giving them both a home here. Bracken is long gone now, sadly. When you begin exploring Baldain, you will meet a few of his descendants. They are always about, somewhere.”
Jessica’s heart flipped. “I am so glad. You know I love animals.”
“That I do know,” her husband declared, surprising her by pulling on his clothes. “And that is a grand reason to dress now, lass. As you said, seven days abed is enough.” He leaned toward her, the look in his eyes letting her know he was up to something. “We do no’ want folk talking about us.”
Jessica’s chin came up. “I wouldn’t care.”
“I would.”
“I am not so sure.” She jumped from bed and headed for the wash basin on the table near the window.
“Then you’d better hurry getting dressed.” He was already at the door, his hand hovering over the latch.
“I am washing as fast as I can.” She splashed cold water on her face and quickly ran a brush through her hair. She pulled on her gown, then crossed the room and let him button her into it. “What is this about, anyway?”
“A delivery.” He made short work of her buttons, then turned her to face him. “Something special for you. A belated wedding gift.”
“But I do not need anything.”
He laughed. “You will want this.”
She tilted her head. “What is it?”
“You shall see once Cobbs returns with it.”
They went downstairs. As they reached the main floor, the kitchen door opened and Cobb’s heavy footsteps sounded. The door creaked shut, followed by a thump against the floor.
Jessica looked at Patrick. “Is that my delivery?”
He grinned. “I believe so. Yewie has arrived.”
Jessica blinked. “Yewie?”
Patrick nudged her toward the kitchen door. “What better name for the wee gray-striped tiger from the yew grove?”
“Oooh!” Jessica launched herself at him, giving him in a loud smacking kiss. “You didn’t!”
“I did.”
“And I love you for it,” she cried, and hurried along the corridor. But she jerked to a sudden halt and whipped around, so pleased to find him right behind her. “I love you anyway, as you should know.”
“I do, sweet.” He grinned. “Now go get your kitten.”
“Our kitten,” she corrected.
Then she did the only thing a hoyden could do. She ran into the kitchen, skirts swinging, hair flying, her heart bursting with love.
###
It takes cunning to catch an heiress…and a handsome face doesn’t hurt
Tomorrow is Sir Stirling James’ wedding day. Stirling matched the Duke of Roxburgh’s three younger daughters with reputable men. His reward is the duke’s eldest daughter, Lady Chastity, the future duchess of Roxburgh. Now, if he can only get the lady down the aisle and into his bed.
When Lady Chastity bargained with her father to marry the man who could match her sisters with suitable husbands in one month’s time, she didn’t believe such a man existed. But tomorrow, she is to wed the marriage maker.
How to Catch an Heiress
Book Four
The Marriage Maker
Chapter One
Chastity Hamilton, heir to the Roxburgh Dukedom and future Duchess of Roxburgh, awoke to the sun streaming through her window and across her bed. Her body warmed her through the blanket and the cozy cocoon should have made her burrow deeper beneath the bedding. Instead, something hovered beyond the fuzziness of her sleepy brain. Something wrong.
Chastity bolted upright. Today was May 30th. Her wedding day was two days away. Nae, not just her wedding day--the beginning of her life sentence. How had Sir Stirling managed to marry her three sisters to three men? She was ashamed to admit she had doubted that three such good men existed. But they did. Within one month’s time, Sir Stirling James had married Lucy, her youngest sister, to Baron Delny, the Devil of Delny; Olivia had wed a privateer—a nice word for pirate—Gordon Frasier; and Jessica, her second youngest sister, was wed to Lieutenant Patrick Chalmers—a navy lieutenant, of all things.
Lucy was the youngest in years, but Chastity had always thought of Jessica as the baby of the family, her kitten, the hoyden who swore she couldn’t be tamed and would never marry. Yet Jessica had blossomed into a woman almost overnight, and was thriving as the wife of a strict navy lieutenant. Though, even in the few days the two had been married, it was obvious the lieutenant had changed as much as Jessica. Somehow, the two had discovered a middle ground.
Now, as his reward for making three such fine matches, Sir Stirling expected Chastity to honor her agreement and marry him. Determination burned hotly. Sir Stirling had called her a shrew. He had yet to see the shrew. The next two days would open his eyes to the life he would have if he forced her into marriage.
By the sun that poured into her room, Chastity estimated it was no more than seven-thirty—eight, if she was lucky. She seldom slept even this late. But she’d lain awake worrying about her upcoming nuptials and hadn’t fallen asleep until the wee hours of the morning. Sir Stirling was due to arrive at ten to ride with her, and she planned on keeping him waiting. Now, however, it would be her who had to while away the hours until someone came to announce his arrival.
Cook would be baking bread and preparing for the wedding breakfast, which meant Chastity couldn’t even get herself a cup of tea. She released a breath. She and Papa were alone in the house now. Never again would Jessica burst into her room to wake her. No longer would she enter the parlor to find Olivia reading a book. Tears unexpectedly stung her eyes. What was wrong with her? She had no reason for sadness. Instead of running after Jessica, and worrying that some fortune hunter would compromise Lucy, and wishing away the sadness in Olivia’s eyes, she could delight in knowing that her sisters were happy. Their husbands would care for and protect them for the remainder of their lives, just as Papa had said they would.
But instead of stopping, her tears became sobs, until she feared a passing maid or even her father might hear. She covered her head with a pillow and pulled the blankets over her body. When force of will failed to control the tears, she finally gave in and let them flow freely.
When the tears finally abated, shame set in. Was she guilty of her father’s charges? Had she sabotaged her sis
ters’happiness? Meeting the right man had changed Jessica’s mind about marriage. Lucy had only just come of age to enter the marriage mart, and Chastity knew she would have married in the next year or two. Then there was Olivia. The two offers she’d received hadn’t overly excited her, but was Chastity’s contempt for the men the reason Olivia had rejected them?
Olivia’s second suitor, Mr. Williams, had been far more respectable than Frasier Gordon, the privateer Olivia had married. The problem, in Chastity’s estimation, was Mr. Williams’ lack of backbone. He was intimidated by Olivia's intellect. Oh, he flattered her, but Chastity knew that once they were married he would put a stop to her bluestocking ways. Chastity released a breath. Olivia was ridiculously happy with Frasier. Things had worked out just as they should and Chastity was relieved and happy for her sisters. Olivia and Lucy, in particular, wouldn't have been happy being on the shelf as she was. Her father had been right about that. He had been right about Jessica, as well. Was he right about Sir Stirling?
Chastity shook off the thought. Sir Stirling didn’t care for her as her sisters’ husbands did them. Now that her sisters were safely—and happily—wed, she could live her life exactly as she pleased, with no man to rule her. All she had to do was get rid of Sir Stirling James.
Chastity awoke with a start. Warm sunlight beat down across her bed. She blinked the room into focus, then bolted upright. What time was it? She swung her gaze onto the mantle clock. Ten-fifteen. The fuzziness in her brain persisted, but she knew something wasn't right. Ten-fifteen. Then she remembered. She was supposed to have been ready at ten o'clock to meet Sir Stirling for their morning ride. Why hadn't anyone woken her?
She drew the covers back, jumped to her feet and hurried to the door. Carefully, she eased open the door and peeked into the hallway. Empty. She closed the door and faced the room. What had happened? Her father would never allow her to sleep while Sir Stirling waited for her. The man was late. She pushed from the door and began pacing. How dare he keep her waiting? What sort of gentleman failed to keep his engagements?
She halted. What if something had happened to him? Bah! Nothing had happened. He simply hadn't cared enough to arrive on time. She threw her hands up in exasperation. It was just like him to be late when she'd planned on keeping him waiting. Chastity paused again. She knew only one way to deal with a rogue liked Sir Stirling.
Half an hour later, Chastity stepped into her mare’s saddle and rode out of the stables. A light mist fell. She urged her horse into a gallop down the slope, then turned left when they neared the loch. Typically, Chastity loved days like this. To her right, mist rose off the water, giving the morning an ethereal beauty. She often stayed out all day in this kind of weather. Today, however, even the beauty of the rolling hills didn’t improve her mood. Seething anger bubbled like a witch’s brew in her belly. Sir Stirling hadn’t the grace to keep his appointment with her.
Just as you intended to do to him, an inner voice reminded her.
“Because he deserves it,” she said aloud.
He probably assumed she would meekly await him in the parlor until he deigned to arrive. Isn’t that what wives did? This was the sort of man her father would have her wed. To his credit, he’s saved Jessica from Lord John. Gooseflesh raced across her arms with the memory of how loudly Lord John’s bones had cracked when Sir Stirling's fist contacted with his ribs. Satisfaction swept through her, just as it had when she watched Sir Stirling beat him. The man had deserved every blow Sir Stirling gave him.
Sir Stirling wasn't a bad man, perhaps he was a good man. But he was still a man, and men considered themselves rulers of all they surveyed—and their wives’ dictators. Today, Sir Stirling had only proved her point.
How she wished that she could see his face when he arrived to find her gone.
A mile from Gledstone Hall, Chastityurged her mare down a gentle slope toward the shore of the loch. An ancient oak grew near the water. She could sit under the tree and watch the water lap the shore. The book she’d put in her saddlebag, wrapped in a plaid, would entertain her well into the afternoon, or until she became too chilled to sit outside. She’d even filched a few oatcakes from the kitchen.
She reached the tree, brought the horse to a halt and dismounted. After tying the mare to a nearby sapling, she removed the plaid and book from the saddlebag and spread the blanket on the ground beneath the tree. When she'd settled on the blanket, she set the book on her lap, but turned her attention to the water.
How would she fill her time once she was free of the encumbrances of marriage? Spend days like this, contemplating the world and her place in it? Now that her sisters were married, exactly what was her place in the world? She groaned. Surely, the answer couldn't be that, without her sisters, she had no place.
The clop of horses’ hooves on the soft ground caused Chastity to yank her attention toward the sound. A rider took shape in the mist. She tensed. Strangers seldom rode across Roxburgh land. She never worried about encountering anyone. She recognized the horse an instant before she realized who the rider must be. Sir Stirling sat erect in the saddle, his hand casually resting on the pommel where he gripped the reins.
How did he find her? Irritation flashed. Her father, of course. He knew this was a favorite spot of hers. She was a fool to think he could find any peace here—or anywhere else, for that matter.
Sir Stirling angled his horse toward her mare, brought it to a halt, dismounted, and tied its reins to the same sapling. He strode to her haven and lowered himself onto the plaid.
She frowned. “It is highly inappropriate for you to come here alone.”
He met her gaze. “No more inappropriate than you riding alone." His words, spoken casually, held a tone of finality.
"Do not think to take me to task for doing something I have done since I was fifteen."
"Your father doesn't care that you ride alone?" he asked.
Her father wasn't aware of her every move. "This is Roxburgh land. It is rare for anyone to happen along, certainly not anyone threatening. We are quite safe here.”
He nodded as if he understood, which piqued her ire.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
His brows rose in polite surprise. “We had a morning engagement to ride together."
“An engagement that you were late for by forty minutes. I finally decided to set out on my own."
"I believe I arrived at five minutes to eleven. That would make me five minutes early."
Chastity stared. "Early? You were forty minutes late. You were to have been here at ten. You were very precise on that point."
He angled his head. "My apologies. Forgive my tardiness.”
The man was patronizing her. "You don't believe you were wrong."
"I have apologized."
She shook her head in disbelief. "An insincere apology. You are placating me."
“I am easy to get along with. Would you rather I insist that you were wrong?"
"You-you—" Chastity let out an unfeminine growl and shoved to her feet. The book on her lap fell to the ground. "You know exactly what you are doing." She whirled and headed for her horse.
She ignored the pad of boots behind her and mounted her mare. Sir Stirling reached his horse as she urged her mare into a trot Two heartbeats later, the pounding of horse’s hooves approached. She hunkered down and dug her heels into her horse’s flanks. The animal broke into a gallop, Wind whipped her hair across her face. The fog had thickened.
"Chastity!" he shouted. "Stop!"
Already, he was ordering her around. She gave her horse its head. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine flying.
He pulled up alongside her. "Don't be a fool," he shouted. "The fog is too thick to ride like this."
Now he was telling her how to ride on the property where she'd grown up. The mare started up another hill. Chastity's stomach swooped. Sir Stirling edged closer, and she realized he intended to seize her reins. A large tree loomed in the mist. She yanked the horse'
s reins left and brought the animal in a huge circle then stopped. Sir Stirling joined her.
Chastity glimpsed the hard set of his mouth before he said, "Do you feel better?"
She didn't, and she remained silent.
He gave a nod. "Shall we return to Gledstone Hall?"
Chastity clicked her tongue to signal the mare forward, but Sir Stirling grabbed the reins, and said, "At a sedate pace, if you will."
He was right, of course, which only piqued her even more. "As you wish."
He released the reins and she touched the mare with her heel. Sir Stirling waited until she passed and then flanked her.
"Gledstone is this way, my dear." He veered left.
Chastity scanned the area. Fog swirled everywhere, but she'd grown up exploring these hills. She knew how to get home.
"Listen to the water, Chastity," he called. "It is on your left."
Chastity strained her ears, but heard only the beating of her heart.
Sir Stirling stopped and turned his horse toward her. "I spent half my life in the water, lass. We want to keep the water to our left in order to reached Gledstone."
When was the last time she'd been lost on Roxburgh land? The acreage was not so large that she would easily get lost. But she didn't typically ride in such thick fog. Her father would be furious that she's gone out in this weather. She could plead ignorance—only mist had drifted off the water when she left Gledstone—but her father wasn't in a charitable mood. She doubted he would care.
Chastity urged her horse toward Sir Stirling. She reached his side and they rode in silence. She knew she’d lost this battle when a patch of fog cleared enough on the ground for her to discern the loch to the left, where Sir Stirling said it was. She was no fool—not completely anyway—and kept her horse to a walk beside his until Gledstone took murky shape ahead. They veered right and, minutes later, rode into the stables. Sir Stirling leapt from his saddle and reached her as she was stepping to the ground.
