by Fiona Faris
“Would ye like a pigeon pie mayhaps wi’ yer drink?”
“Did I ask ye for tha’?” Lachie growled.
The innkeeper shook his head slowly.
“Weel then? Awa’ wi’ ye! Let me drink in peace!”
The innkeeper scurried away, looking worried, and Lachie downed his drink quickly before banging on the table and shouting, “Another!”
The innkeeper returned and poured him some more whiskey, which Lachie downed at the same speed. Soon he had lost count of how much he had drunk and was feeling no pain. He smiled, looking around to see who he might provoke into a fight.
In the corner, he caught sight of a maiden, talking earnestly with one of his crofters.
“Ye there. Come here,” he called beckoning for her to approach. She stared at him as if he had grown a second head, and he glared. “I said, come here!”
She jumped, nearly fell off her stool before scurrying over to him. “Yes, m’lud?”
“Sit on my lap,” he said, patting his thighs in case she did not understand the words.
“Oh, I canna, Mr. Buchanan. Ah’m not staying. I have to gae-”
“I said, sit in my lap!”
The girl jumped and sat down in Lachie’s lap, as stiff as a board. He hissed in annoyance before trying to pull her dress up to her thighs.
“Please!” she squealed, holding on to it so he could not quite manage. The man she had been speaking to came up to the table.
“Excuse me, sir, but that’s my wife ye’re trying to undress.” He reached out for her hand and pulled her off his lap. Lachie narrowed his eyes at the man, “What’s yer wife doing in a tavern then if she doesna want to be touched?”
“She was lookin fer me,” the man explained even as he dragged the woman towards the door. Three other women from various corners of the tavern scurried out after them. Lachie sneered, taking another gulp of his drink. If he couldn’t debauch, then he would fight somebody.
He looked blearily around for a suitable candidate. No one would meet his eyes. Getting unsteadily to his feet, he swayed and stumbled out into the night.
“Where’s my horse?” he yelled across the courtyard, and soon, the stable boy was leading his huge bay over to him. For a moment, Lachie did not know if he could even get on the horse. It seemed very high up.
He sought the stirrup with his foot, but it kept sliding away. “Somebody hold this stirrup!”
The stable boy scrambled forward and held his foot in the stirrup so that Lachie could climb. He winced as Lachie stepped hard on his fingers, pressing them between the stirrup and his heel. Snatching his hand away, the stable boy cradled it within his other hand as Lachie grinned at him while spurring his horse on its way.
It was fortunate that his horse was used to carrying a rider safely because Lachie was not in any position to retain his seat. The horse brought him safely back to Daltern where the grooms helped him off the animal and steered him towards the house where his father was waiting.
Barclay Buchanan flexed his jaw and shaking his head, sent his son to bed. He would be glad when the boy was someone else’s problem and prayed that this English lassie was up to the task. He thought wistfully of his other son, the one who had gone off without a word. He regretted for a moment that Ethan was not his legitimate heir. The boy had shown that he was resourceful but immediately dismissed the thought when his wife came into the room as if she might read his thoughts.
“Ye have visitors looking for Himself,” she informed him.
He frowned. “Who are they?”
“I dinna ken. It isna my business to announce visitors. I keep tellin’ ye to get a butler.”
Barclay snorted. “I’d be laughed out of Scotland if I e’er did such a thing.”
“Weel gang and see to yer visitors yersel’ then.” She flounced off, still pouting. Barclays sighed. His wife always came back from her trips to London with notions of how their lives should be. He had grown tired of trying to indulge her years ago.
Slowly he walked to the parlor, hoping that it was not one of his debtors waiting for him. He came to a stop at the door when a strange man got to his feet and turned to face him. The man smiled. “Mr. Buchanan is it? My name is Darius Wyatt Grahame. I am here on behalf of my client, who has purchased the mortgage on this property.”
Barclay stiffened. “And who is exactly is your client?”
“I am not at liberty to say. However, I am going to require you to give me a plan for payment. You are already short of one payment.”
“If yer client kens I am such a poor payer, why purchase my mortgage.”
The man simply smirked and stared at him as if it was a rather stupid question. Barclay narrowed his eyes. “He means tae steal this property from me?”
The man, Darius, turned away with a contemptuous look, “Steal? I am here to hear how you plan to repay your debts, and you accuse my benevolent client of theft?”
Barclay gritted his teeth, “Ye shall have the money within the month.”
Darius raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Oh, aye? And how d’ye expect to get it?”
“That is none of yer business. Ye just go and tell yer…client…that he will have his money.”
“Humph. Alright, then.” Darius dug into his briefcase and removed a book which he opened and made a note inside. “Very well then Mr. Buchanan,” he said, lifting his head to meet Barclay’s eyes, “One month it is.”
* * *
Ethan walked onto the ship as a revered passenger rather than a deckhand this time. The captain invited them to his quarters for a drink once they got settled. Their cabin had enough space to store their luggage and still leave room for them to walk from side to side. The bed was narrower than the one at the castle, but they fit quite well when lying close together.
Georgiana was certainly very excited and asked Ethan to show her everything and tell her how the ship worked. Ethan was only too glad to oblige… happy that there was something he could do for her.
They stood on the foredeck, keeping out of the way of deckhands and spoke quietly to each other. Fergus and Misty were usually nearby, although Fergus would sometimes disappear to play cards with the off-duty officers and gather ship gossip.
“Why do we need to know about the gossip on the ship?” Ethan asked him when Fergus updated him on the feud between the purser and the chef over peas.
Fergus gave him a look. “Ye never ken what important information ye might learn.” He shook his head as if Ethan was being deliberately dull-witted.
Ethan opened his mouth to ask how a feud between the purser and chef could possibly be important to them but then closed it instead. As soon as Georgiana had handed him the keys to a safe in which her father had stowed enough to see them comfortably to the South of France and back, he had withdrawn the requisite amount and paid Fergus back; with interest.
“Ye can leave if ye want,” he had told the other man, but Fergus shrugged.
“Ye need a valet don’t ye?”
Ethan shrugged. “If ye say so.” He and Fergus had forged an unlikely friendship, and now that he did not owe him, he found a genuine liking on both sides. Either that or Fergus did not have anywhere to go!
They docked at Villefranche-sur-Mer three days later and were greeted on shore by a gentleman dressed all in white. He was waiting with a carriage to take them to a villa the duke had rented in advance.
“Now, this is living.” Ethan declared.
Georgiana grinned at him. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
He looked to her and smiled, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Ah’m enjoying being married to ye.”
She blushed prettily, ducking her head down shyly. “That’s good because I am enjoying being married to you too.”
Before long, they arrived at the villa which was on a hill that overlooked the sea.
“The view is truly breathtakin,” Ethan declared as they stood on the verandah and looked out at the garden that sloped downwards to the sea.
> “It is indeed.”
Ethan turned to look at her, “Both outside and in. I hardly ken where tae look.” Now, shall we go and freshen up, and then we can take a walk?”
“Certainly. After ye, milady.” He held out his arm for her to take, and they let the butler show them to their room.
* * *
The cold air whispered against her bare skin as she stepped out of the bath, breaking into goosebumps and making her shiver. Droplets of water trailed down Georgiana’s body and disappeared into the plush mat beneath her feet.
She reached out towards the peg on the wall, hurriedly grabbing hold of her robe and yanking it free. The soft, blue silk fell delicately over her smooth skin, loosely tied at her waist by a grey silk sash. Her damp hair remained tousled, falling in unruly curls down her shoulders as she let it dry naturally. Misty would brush it sooner or later, but for now, she could luxuriate in its wildness.
Passing by a basket laden with folded clothing, she plucked her pantaloons and quickly slipped them on.
The latch on the window clinked behind the curtains, and she made a note to speak with their host about it. She peeled the curtains back to let light into the room, then pushed the window open as she breathed in the fresh, early morning air. The garden below her room smelt wonderful with the dew on the petals, bringing the aroma of the flowers to the surface.
She wished she could stare out at the garden forever, to enjoy some sense of peace and quiet. She sighed contentedly, feeling as if everything in her short life was to bring her to this point, to this beautiful place with a wonderful man.
Sometimes it was hard to believe her luck.
She remembered that her good mother had once told her when she was still in leading-strings that she had ‘the luck of the Irish.’ Georgiana had not known what that meant at the time, but now she was willing to entertain the notion that it might be true.
Tomorrow, she would write a letter to her parents, telling them the truth of who Ethan was. She had not liked lying to them, but she understood why it was necessary. Now, however, they were married, and their union was consummated. There was not much anyone could do about it, so there was no need to lie anymore.
She jumped as she felt warm hands about her waist.
“Oh…” she breathed as she realized it was her husband.
“Did I scare ye? I apologize. I dinna mean to do tha’.”
“It’s fine.” Her heart was racing, but then, it always did that when Ethan was about.
“Shall we go down for breakfast, or shall I have them bring us something here?”
She turned in his arms with a smile. “I think I want to eat here.”
* * *
Ethan was still damp from his own bath and laughed as a shiver ran down his spine, unable to stop himself from beaming at Georgiana as she smiled back.
He cherished the feeling of being around Georgiana, looked forward to making her face light up, hear the tinkling sound of her laughter. He just felt more at ease because she was near.
Ethan was so used to feeling separated from others; the orphan, the laird’s illegitimate get - he had developed extreme caution when dealing with others. He felt as if he was protecting something, a secret he was unable to put a name to. Whether it was the open secret of his birth or his burning anger against his father and brother…
He had felt alone in hiding this secret for so long - but as soon as he met Georgiana, when the girl had bothered to look at him – to actually see him, he knew that Georgiana understood and knew what it was to keep part of yourself hidden. To be afraid to be vulnerable with somebody for fear that they would use that knowledge to hurt you.
Ethan knew that Georgiana understood his need to protect himself. That was a secret that they both did not acknowledge; it was merely something that they both knew.
And it made his life a lot less lonely.
Chapter Eleven
It was a warm and cloudless day in the region of Villefranche-sur-Mer. So warm, in fact, that Ethan and Georgiana had retreated from the sunny garden into the house again, where it was comfortably cool.
It was a glorious Wednesday, a week into their honeymoon. This was their second day in France, and they had spent their time as any newly-wed couple would. Having dismissed Fergus and Misty for the duration, they occupied themselves with several intimate encounters.
Ethan discovered that Georgiana was quite the adventurous one, and he was enjoying trying out her ideas. Spending two days in their chambers, only emerging for meals, might be enough for them to finally tone down their passion and enjoy the beautiful countryside surrounding them for a while. Instead, they ended up in their bedroom once more, kissing leisurely, one window was thrown open to let in the fresh and heavily flower-scented air while a soft sea breeze made the light curtains billow. There was no hurry or urgency between them, just soft and languid kisses and the lazy wanderings of hands.
Ethan's waistcoat was the first piece of clothing to go... discarded unceremoniously before he picked Georgiana up to throw her down on the bed. They faced each other with identical smiles, lips meeting, tongues twining, hands trailing over still-clothed backs, tangling in each other’s hair.
It took a while before the discarded silk garment was joined by the white linen of his shirt. Georgiana unbuttoned it to expose more skin, which she proceeded to lick and suck while Ethan struggled to untuck it and undo his flies.
"Too warm," Ethan grinned as he broke their kiss to take off his breeches.
"I know... what are you going to do about it?" she smirked.
Georgiana's chintz gown fluttered to the floor soon after, leaving her in nothing but a light shift. Ethan was not even taken aback to find that she wore no stockings... she had, after all, spent most of the morning exploring the garden for exotic vegetation while barefoot and grinning.
They kissed and caressed unhurriedly, sweet nothings imprinted on the skin from incoherent mouths. The sun was disappearing in the west and bathing the room with warm, rosy light. It felt magical and separate from any troubles they might have had.
"I think these should go too," Georgiana suggested with a grin, gently tugging at the unmentionables he still wore.
"Oh aye, ye think so?" he was grinning with no shame, examining himself with exaggerated curiosity. He was in full agreement with her sentiments.
"Most definitely," she grinned wide before working on the fastenings with new expertise.
He couldn't help but chuckle at her evident eagerness. He was, in fact, grateful for it, even though it had been her idea to take a little break. He did not mind at all. If she wanted to undress him, he was quite willing to oblige her.
At last Ethan found himself lying on his back with an equally undressed Georgiana kneeling between his legs, hovering over him. Her deep grey eyes gazed down at him with so much love and affection that, for a moment, he forgot to breathe. How had he been so lucky as to find this creature, and keep her, too?
"My handsome husband," she smiled sweetly, brushing his unruly ginger hair from his forehead.
He chuckled, gently squeezing her at the waist. "Ah'm actually just the moderately acceptable husband. My beautiful wife is the breathtaking one, ye should ken."
"Is that so?" she wondered. "Who else are you married to then?"
Ethan grinned and traced a single finger over her cheek. "Ah'm the kind of creature that only chooses one mate, Georgiana. For life... or at least as long as ye will have me."
Her shy yet radiant smile shone, lighting up her face.
"For life, it is then," she confirmed and placed another sweet kiss onto his lips before pulling back and raising her eyebrow in question. "But really, moderately acceptable? "
A slight blush stole itself into his face. "Well, ah'm certainly not 'handsome' by any definition of the word... I consider myself incredibly lucky to have found someone who doesna mind the tall, gangly, awkward lad with only a face his mother could love, that I actually am."
He smiled up at
her, but Georgiana shook her head at his words.
"Darling, you're not any of that..." She tangled her fingers with his locks. "There's also this lovely mop of stubborn ginger hair... and you know how much trouble I have keeping my hands out of it."
He couldn't help but grin. "Then, by all means, keep them there. Ye ken I like it."
Gently pulling on his hair, her nails scratched along his scalp... things he never thought he would ever enjoy, but did rather a lot when Georgiana was doing so. However, her fingers didn’t stay tangled in his hair but trailed down his neck instead as she considered his face.
