The Bride

by Julie Garwood

  Jamie finally noticed the silence that permeated the great hall. She glanced over her shoulder and saw her sisters then. The three of them were lined up like common criminals, looking as if they were about to be executed with arrows.

  As soon as Agnes caught Jamie’s sympathetic gaze, she started crying. Alice put her arm around her twin’s shoulders, obviously intent on offering her solace. The plan failed, however, and she also burst into tears. Within a blink of the eye, the two of them had worked themselves up into hysteria.

  Mary stood next to Agnes. She looked as if she, too, wanted to cry. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and after giving Jamie a “dear Lord, will you look at them” look, she turned her gaze to the floor.

  Something had to be done. The twins couldn’t be allowed to disgrace the family in front of the Scots.

  “Agnes, Alice, cease your weeping immediately.”

  Both sisters mopped at the corners of their eyes and tried to control themselves.

  Jamie noticed her father then. He was sitting at the table, pouring himself a drink from one of the two jugs in front of him.

  It was up to her to offer a proper, civilized English greeting, she supposed. She knew what her duty was. Yet the urge to shout at the strangers that they were three whole days early, for God’s sake, was very nearly overwhelming.

  Duty won out. Besides, the two Scots were probably too dull-witted to realize how uncouth their behavior was.

  Jamie slowly walked over to stand directly in front of the two men. She remembered the dogs at her sides when she heard them growling at the strangers, dismissed them with a quick wave of her hand, then made a curtsy befitting her status as mistress of her home. A lock of hair fell over her left eye when she bowed her head, ruining the haughty effect she was trying to achieve. Jamie tossed the hair back over her shoulder and tried to manage a smile.

  “I’d like to welcome both of you to our humble home, for no one else seems capable of extending that courtesy,” she began. “And I do hope you’ll forgive our unreadiness to receive you, but if you’ll only remember you’re a good three days early, you might more easily endure our lack of preparations.”

  She stared at their boots while she made that speech, then ventured a quick look up when she added, “My name is—”

  “Lady Jamie.” The shorter of the two giants made that statement.

  Jamie had been staring at the space between the two warriors and immediately turned to look at the one who’d just spoken.

  He wasn’t as mean-looking as the other one. Jamie came to that conclusion when he smiled at her. He had an appealing dent in the side of his cheek when he smiled, too, and his green eyes were alive with mischief.

  Jamie was immediately suspicious. The man seemed to be entirely too happy for such dour circumstances, what with Alice and Agnes weeping like infants. Perhaps, she decided, he was too simple-headed to understand the disruption he was causing. He was a Scotsman, after all.

  “And your name, milord?” she asked, her voice cool.

  “Daniel,” he answered. “He’s called Alec,” he drawled out with a nod toward his companion.

  Daniel’s smile was proving to be contagious. This one was definitely a charmer, Jamie thought. She couldn’t help but smile back, either, for the man had such a ridiculous burr in his speech that she could barely understand him.

  She didn’t really want to talk to the other lord, but she knew she had to. Jamie kept smiling, then slowly turned to look up at the other warrior.

  He’d been waiting for her to look at him. Jamie could feel her smile freeze on her face. His gaze, surely as hot as the midday sun, easily intimidated her.

  He wasn’t smiling.

  Jamie was suddenly embarrassed and didn’t know why. She’d never felt this vulnerable in all her days. She felt her cheeks grow warm and knew she’d started blushing. There was such possessiveness in his stare, a look of ownership she couldn’t understand.

  It suddenly dawned on her that Lord Alec wasn’t looking at her the way a true lord would look at a gentle lady of breeding. No, it was an earthy lustful look he was giving her.

  He was being outrageously insolent. He gave her a slow, thoroughly insulting inspection, starting at the top of her head and ending a long while later at the bottom of her gown. His gaze lingered on her mouth, her breasts and her hips.

  She hated him.

  He made her feel as though she were standing there without a stitch of clothing on. Jamie was infuriated with him. She wasn’t about to let him get away with his behavior, either. No, she was going to give as good as she was getting. She couldn’t control her blush, but she prayed she looked just as insolent as he had when she slowly gave him the same disgustingly thorough inspection.

  Unfortunately, the warrior didn’t seem the least bit offended by her imitation. He looked amused. She thought his eyes warmed a little and noticed his eyebrow rose again in reaction to her appraisal.

  There was something there, in his gaze, that tugged at her heart. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she was beginning to think that if he hadn’t been so mean-looking, she might have found him handsome. That was ridiculous, of course. She’d already made up her mind to hate him. The man was too hard for her liking. He was in desperate need of a good hair trim, too. Why, the back of his reddish brown hair went way beyond the neckline of his black tunic. The hair curled a bit, reminding her of the Greek warriors she’d seen drawings of, but it certainly didn’t soften his angular face or his square, unforgiving chin. His mouth looked as hard as the rest of him.

  Oh, he was entirely too fierce-looking to please her. And why her heart was pounding such a wild beat was beyond her comprehension. The longer she met his gaze, the more breathless she became.

  A single thought kept her from feeling like a complete fool. One of her poor sisters was going to have to marry this warlord from hell.

  She started shivering.

  He smiled.

  Baron Jamison suddenly called out to both warriors to join him at the table for a taste of wine.

  Daniel immediately moved away from the mantel and strolled over to the table. He paused on his way to wink at Mary.

  Alec didn’t move. Neither did Jamie. She couldn’t make herself stop staring up at him.

  He didn’t want to stop looking at her.

  “Do you have a priest in residence?”

  His voice had sounded harsh. He couldn’t help that, he decided, for he was still reacting to the amazingly beautiful woman standing so defiantly before him. Her eyes were the most brilliant shade of violet. She was quite magnificent, yet Alec was just as impressed with the rebellious streak he could easily see.

  This one wouldn’t be easily intimidated. He didn’t think she’d ever cower away from him. And no other woman had ever been able to match his stare this long, this courageously.

  Alec’s smile widened. She was a worthy adversary, all right. He knew she was afraid of him; he had seen her tremble. Yet she valiantly tried to hide her fear from him.

  She’d survive in the rugged Highlands, given care and attention, but he would have to take every precaution. She was so delicate looking. He’d have to quell the rebelliousness in her without breaking her spirit. It would be a chore, true, but Alec didn’t mind. In truth, he was already looking forward to the taming.

  And in the end, he would conquer and she would submit.

  Jamie didn’t have the faintest idea what the warrior was thinking. She finally found her voice and answered his question. “We do have a priest in residence, milord.” Heaven help her, the shiver was now in her voice. “You’ve chosen, then?”

  “I have.”

  “It must have been a most difficult decision for you to make.”

  The smile reached his eyes. “It wasn’t difficult at all.”

  She didn’t care for the arrogance in his tone or the way he was looking at her now. “I’m certain it was difficult for you,” she insisted. “After all, my sisters are all very beautif
ul, and choosing one so quickly isn’t really giving the matter your full consideration. For that reason, I would suggest you wait, perhaps return to our home in another month, after you’ve had time to mull this over. What think you of that idea, milord?”

  He slowly shook his head.

  “Then you’re going to marry tomorrow?” Jamie asked.

  “We’ll be halfway home by then.”

  “You will?”

  “We will.”

  “You plan to marry now?”

  She looked horrified. Alec nodded. “I do.”

  “But you cannot mean—”

  “We’ll leave immediately after the ceremony,” Alec said, his voice hard.

  Lord Daniel suddenly appeared at her side. He was holding two goblets of wine. He handed one to Alec, then turned to the three sisters. “Come and join us, Mary,” he called out, laughing. “We won’t bite.”

  “I never thought you would,” Mary announced. She straightened her shoulders and hurried over to stand beside Jamie.

  Both Daniel and Alec drank from their goblets. They nodded to each other, then offered the cups to Jamie and Mary.

  The sisters denied the offer by shaking their heads.

  “Take a sip, Mary,” Daniel suggested with a wink.

  Alec wasn’t as solicitous. “Drink this, Jamie. Now.”

  Perhaps it was some sort of primitive Scottish ritual, Jamie thought. As mistress of her home, she knew it was her duty to make their visitors welcome. Alec looked determined, too. She shrugged her shoulders, then took the goblet, swallowed quickly, and handed the cup back to him.

  He captured her hand and wouldn’t let go. His thumb brushed her palm. A frown settled on his face, and he slowly turned her hand over to look at the calluses and scars.

  Mary emptied Daniel’s cup. When she gave the goblet back to him, he also took hold of her hand and turned it over.

  Jamie tried to pull her hand away, but it wasn’t until the two men had compared Mary’s smooth, unblemished skin with Jamie’s flaws, that he finally let go.

  It was a humiliation. She understood every damning word they said to each other in Gaelic. They didn’t know she spoke their language and that fact gave Jamie a perverse spark of satisfaction.

  Jamie hid her hands behind her back and waited for their next insult.

  “Was sharing your drink some sort of ritual?” Mary asked. “’Tis the truth we don’t know anything about the Scots.”

  After blurting out that statement, she turned her attention to the floor.

  “Mary, you’ve never heard of our special preferences, then?” Daniel asked in a soft burr.

  Mary’s head jerked up. She had the most startled expression on her face. “Preferences, milord?”

  “Certain peculiarities,” Daniel qualified with a grin.

  “Peculiarities?” Mary gave Jamie a wild look before turning back to Daniel. “Nay, I’ve not heard of these preferences.”

  “Ah, then, I must enlighten you,” he announced.

  It was obvious that Lord Daniel was vastly amused. “I don’t wish to be enlightened,” Mary countered.

  Alec was watching Jamie. Her eyes had widened when Daniel mentioned preferences. She’d obviously caught the drift of his friend’s remarks.

  Alec found Jamie incredibly appealing. Just looking at her made him ache to touch her, to take her. The smile faded from his eyes when he admitted to himself how much he wanted to bed her. Odd, but it didn’t matter that she was English. No, it didn’t matter at all.

  “Mary, sweet,” Daniel began, drawing Alec’s attention back to him, “surely you’ve heard of our list of wants. Everyone knows the Scots like strong horses, fat sheep, and soft, willing women.”

  He’d drew out his list just like an old woman savoring the telling of fresh gossip. Alec mimicked his friend’s tone when he added, “In that order, of course.”

  “Of course,” Daniel agreed.

  Jamie turned to glare at Alec. She’d already surmised Beak had had a little talk with the giants and had mentioned Mary’s fears. Jamie made a promise to blister Beak’s ears the next time she saw him.

  Daniel suddenly reached out to stroke Mary’s cheek with the back of his hand. Mary was so surprised by the caress she forgot to move away. She was quite mesmerized by the tender look in Daniel’s eyes.

  “I’ve already got a strong horse,” Daniel stated. “As for sheep, Mary, well, there are plenty grazing in the mountains back home. But a soft, willing woman, now, lass, it’s a pity to admit I’m lacking one of those. It’s important to me, even though it’s last on my list.”

  “I’m not soft,” Mary blurted out.

  “Aye, you are,” Daniel countered. “And as lovely as a spring morning,” he added.

  Mary’s blush deepened until her face was the color of fire. “I’m neither lovely nor willing, milord,” she announced. She folded her arms across her chest and concentrated on giving him a good frown. She wanted to discourage the handsome devil, yet was horribly confused by her own reaction to him. His flattery was making her light-headed. Did he really think she was lovely?

  The twins started crying again. Jamie was about to give them another rebuke when it occurred to her that one or both had been chosen as brides. If that was the case, and she guessed it was, Alice and Agnes were certainly entitled to their tantrum. They could wail like wolves and it would be fine with her.

  Alec simply waited for the truth to hit her. He saw the sympathetic look she was giving her sisters, wondered how long it would take her to notice they were looking at her with the identical expression.

  Baron Jamison would certainly set Jamie straight, once he’d regained his composure, Alec decided. The man was still close to weeping. He’d argued something fierce when Alec had casually stated he’d chosen Jamie for his bride.

  Alec had been firm with the baron. He had controlled his temper until Jamison quit sputtering and began to list all the selfish reasons he had for being against the union. None of the reasons had anything to do with Jamie’s well-being. Alec’s attitude hardened then. He was infuriated with the Englishman. The list of duties certainly explained the calluses on Jamie’s hands. Jamison didn’t want to keep his youngest by his side because of love. He wanted only a slave at his beck and call. The youngest, in Alec’s opinion, was literally in bondage.

  A worried-looking servant came rushing into the great hall. He gave Baron Jamison only a brief glance before hurrying over to Jamie. After completing an awkward bow, the servant whispered, “The priest be on his way, mistress. He’s dressed in his wedding vestments.”

  Jamie nodded to the servant. “It was good of you to quit your duties to fetch Father Charles, George. Would you like to stay for the weddings?”

  The servant had a look of adoration in his eyes. “I ain’t dressed for it,” he whispered.

  “Neither are we,” Jamie whispered back.

  “Go and change your gown, Mary,” Daniel interjected. “I’m partial to gold. If you’ve a gown in that color, wear it to please me. If not, white will do well enough. I’m wedding you, Lady Mary.”

  Lord Daniel Ferguson caught Lady Mary before she hit the floor. He wasn’t at all irritated that his intended had just fainted dead away, and he actually let out a full burst of laughter as he swept Mary up into his arms and held her against his chest.

  “She’s overcome with gratitude, Alec,” Daniel called out to his friend.

  “Aye, Daniel, I can see she is,” Alec answered.

  Jamie couldn’t keep her anger controlled another minute. She turned to confront Alec. Her hands rested on her hips in a stance that was clearly a challenge. “Well? Which one of the twins are you going to wed?”

  “Neither.”

  “Neither?”

  She still hadn’t caught on. Alec sighed. “Change your gown, Jamie, if that’s your inclination. I prefer white. Now go and do my bidding. The hour grows late and we must be on our way.”

  He’d deliberately lengthened his spee
ch, giving her time to react to his announcement. He thought he was being most considerate.

  She thought he was demented.

  Jamie was, at first, too stunned to do more than stare in horror at the warlord. When she finally gained her voice, she shouted, “It will be a frigid day in heaven before I marry you, milord, a frigid day indeed.”

  “You’ve just described the Highlands in winter, lass. And you will marry me.”

  “Never.”

  Exactly one hour later, Lady Jamison was wed to Alec Kincaid.

  Chapter Four

  She wore black to her wedding. Her choice of attire was he wore black to her wedding. Her choice of attire was a purely defiant gesture meant to infuriate the Scotsman. Jamie knew her plan had failed, however, the minute she walked back into the great hall. Alec took one look at her and started laughing. The booming sound nearly felled the rafters.

  Jamie didn’t have any idea how much her rebellious nature pleased him, else she never would have gone to such lengths to provoke him, Alec decided. Had she known how much he detested tears, she probably would have wept. Alec didn’t think she’d be as convincing as her twin sisters, though. Jamie moved like a queen. Her back was as straight as a clean lance, she bowed her head to no man, and he decided it would have cost her mightily to affect any female weakness.

  She was dressed for mourning, but she still looked magnificent. Her eyes continued to captivate him. He wondered if he’d ever get used to her beauty. Lord, he certainly hoped so. He couldn’t allow any interference in his primary duties.

  The lass was turning out to be quite a puzzle. He knew she was English born and raised, yet she didn’t appear to be the least bit cowardly. Alec wondered how that miracle had come about, then concluded her innocence and lack of fear stemmed from the fact that she’d never been tainted by King Henry’s sordid court life. By the grace of God, Lady Jamie hadn’t been exposed to the English inclination for debauchery.