Resisting her slightly parted rosebud lips proved as futile as denying his growing homesickness for Scotland. Lifting her onto his lap, he cradled her in his arms and tasted her luscious mouth.
Sarah sighed again, only this was the sound of a contented woman. Twining her arms about his neck, she urged him closer. She opened her mouth to his tongue’s gentle probing, and he deepened the kiss.
Desire, lust, and profound longing tunneled through his veins, filling every pore, and swelling within his heart. This woman had become something so precious in such a short time, he must convince her to marry him.
He would convince her.
After several more delicious minutes of exploring her mouth, he finally raised his head. The carriage had left the central part of London and bounced along a less busy lane on the town’s outskirts. Good thing too, for his rash impulse wouldn’t have served her reputation well had they been seen.
Cuddling her in his arms, he dropped a kiss atop her bonneted head.
The carriage hit a bump, and Sarah came down hard on Gregor’s lap. At once, hot, intense desire flooded his groin. Gritting his teeth against the sweet torture, he shifted her onto the seat once more, then wiped away her tears with his thumbs.
His hair had come loose during their kiss, and she grasped a handful.
“I like that you haven’t cut your hair. It suits the rugged Scotsman that you are far better than the Titus or Brutus.” She giggled, holding a few tendrils out to the side and jiggling them up and down. “Or heaven forbid, the frightened owl.”
Rotating a finger near his head, he chuckled. “Can ye imagine all of this styled in the frightened owl fashion?”
She dropped her focus to his fancy togs. “You might dress the perfect English gentleman, but at heart, you’re Scot through and through, Gregor.” Head to the side, she considered him. “I don’t believe managing Stapleton Shipping and Supplies is what you’re meant to do, no matter how good you might be at the position.”
Neither did he.
“I think you should pursue becoming a doctor,” she announced.
Edinburgh did have an outstanding medical school.
Sarah had grown up on a tropical island, and more than once expressed how much she disliked England’s drizzly, gray clime. Could he convince her to make Scotland, with its harsher weather, craggy terrain, and rugged people her home?
There’d be plenty of time to consider that later.
He’d reinforce his efforts to court her, and his surprise today was sure to earn him a place in her heart.
Rather than return to the opposite seat, he tucked her close to his side and took her hand in his. Yuletide was less than a week away, but he couldn’t wait that long to give her the gift he’d found for her.
They traveled in silence for several minutes, and when he glanced down, it was to discover she’d fallen asleep, her head nestled against his shoulder.
She hadn’t been sleeping well, fretting for her brother and herself. Now that her grandmother had acknowledged her, Sarah’s life would be so much easier. Her mother was the final thing that plagued her peace.
Hopefully, Piermont would return with good news in the spring.
Stretching his legs out before him, Gregor rested his head against the squabs. He had more to overcome than Sarah’s dislike of the climate. Her grandmother was a wealthy, powerful woman, and if he convinced her to marry him, though they’d never go without necessities, he wasn’t in a position to shower fine things upon her.
He opened his eyes and touched his lips to the top of her bonnet. Nae, Sarah cared more about character and what was in a person’s heart than being draped in fine silk and glittering jewels.
A few more minutes passed before the carriage juddered to a stop.
“Sarah?” Gregor gently shook her shoulders. “Sarah, wake up, lass. I’ve another surprise for ye. It’s an early Yuletide present from me.”
Blinking drowsily, she raised her sleepy gaze to his, and the tenderness there humbled him. Still sleep-drugged, her irises were a haunting shade somewhere between blue and green with gold flecks today. He loved that about her. Her eyes changed color depending on what she wore or her current mood.
“Another surprise? What have you done now, Highlander?” Excitement twinkled in the depths of her gaze, and she cast an inquisitive glance out the window. “Where are we?”
“You’ll have to wait and see, jo.” He gave her a seductive wink.
The carriage door swung open, and the driver lowered the steps.
Gregor descended first, then extended his hand to assist her from the carriage.
Her face awash with curiosity, she inspected the stately manor on London’s perimeter.
After some lengthy inquiries, he had finally found what he sought. For a time, he feared the task he’d set himself impossible to complete, but with the help of Ramsbury, Harcourt, and Ewan, he’d met with success.
“Why are we here?” Sarah took in her surroundings. “Am I meeting yet another titled relative?”
“Nae.” Gregor lifted the knocker, and almost at once, a cheerful maid opened the door.
A secret in her eyes, she bobbed a curtsy. “Mr. Stallworth is expecting you, sir.”
Sarah preceded him into the house and glanced around, her forehead furrowed with two neat rows.
“This way, please, Mr. McTavish, miss.” The maid indicated they should follow her.
Completely bewildered, Sarah asked, “Gregor, whatever are you about?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Unfamiliar giddiness bubbled behind his ribs. He couldn’t remember ever going to such efforts for a present before. And this would be the first Christmas gift he’d ever given.
True, he was giving it to Sarah early, but nonetheless…
The maid led them toward the back of the house, down a long corridor, then to a cozy room off the kitchen. A man rose from beside a short, wooden enclosure, and smiling, extended his hand.
“Mr. McTavish. It’s a pleasure to see you again. I see you’ve brought the young lady you told me about.”
“Sarah, this is Able Stallsworth,” Gregor said. “Mr. Stallsworth, Miss Sarah Paine.”
Squeaking and rustling from the enclosure hinted at Gregor’s surprise.
Eyes going round in excitement and astonishment, her mouth formed a perfect little “o.” She rushed to the box, and giggling, sank to her knees. “Oh, Gregor. Nothing could be more perfect.” She scooped a wriggling black dachshund pup into each hand and held them against her cheeks. Cooing softly, she kissed their shiny heads. “Aren’t you the most precious darlings?”
“Happy Christmas, Sarah,” Gregor said, his throat oddly tight with sentiment.
She turned such a look of utter adoration on him, he didn’t doubt she was meant to be his for all time. Everything that had happened that had brought them to this point had been part of a grand plan. She was his destiny as surely as snow was cold and fire burned hot.
Stallsworth gave a deferential half bow.
“You have your pick of the litter, Miss Paine. No one else has claimed a pup yet. It will be another two weeks before they are ready to leave their mother, however. Let me know which one you want, and I’ll tie a ribbon around its neck. I’ll give you a few minutes alone with them.” At the door, he turned back. “By the by, their mother’s name is Elsa.”
Such joy radiated from Sarah’s face, Gregor could have watched her for hours.
Such a simple thing—the gift of a pup—and she reacted as if he’d presented her with a chest of jewels. Although, knowing her as he did, she preferred heartfelt gestures to gems and valuable trinkets.
She cast him an uncertain look then sucked her lower lip between her teeth. “Gregor?”
He joined her on the floor, accepting a pup to cuddle. The little devil promptly bit his nose. “Aye, lass?”
“There are only three, and I know Chris would also love to have one. I cannot bear to think that a puppy will be left behind.”
Uncertainty made her hesitant. “May I… I know it’s a lot to ask… And of course, Grandmother would have to be agreeable, as well as Mr. Stallworth. But might-I-be-permitted-all-of-them?” she finished in a rush of words.
Gregor bent and kissed each cheek, then boldly pressed his mouth to hers. “One for each Christmas ye’ve missed? Aye, that seems fair.”
He laid his pup in his lap and lifted her hand to his lips. “I have a request of ye, too, my tropical flower.”
“Yes?” Eyes shining, she cocked her head as she returned the three puppies to their worried mother.
“Will ye marry me, mo ghaol? I dinna ken where I’ll be in a year, but I plan on applyin’ to medical school in Scotland. We’ll have to live at Craiglocky in the meanwhile, and I ken ye’re no’ used to the severe clime there. It will also mean leavin’ yer grandmother, and ye’ve only just begun to ken her—”
“Do shush, Gregor.”
He searched her face. “Is it too soon? I can give ye more time to get to ken me better.”
“None of that other matters, silly man.” She laid a palm against his cheek. “Since the day I barged into your office, and you helped me without hesitation, I knew there was something special about you. With each passing day, my heart grew fuller, and though I kept telling myself it was impossible to already love you, my spirit said otherwise. I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Gregor McTavish.”
He crushed her to his chest, laughing. “Thank God. I feared it was too soon. I love ye, Sarah. So much it frightens me as nothing ever has before.”
“And I love you. I’ll always remember this Yuletide as the one when a Highlander stole my heart.” She smiled and whispered against his mouth. “Now, kiss me.”
London, England
Twenty-nine December 1830
Sarah awoke slowly, rousing from a deep, comfortable slumber. Drowsily patting the mattress beside her, she came fully awake. Though warmth met her palm, Gregor’s familiar form did not. She sat up, pushing the hair off her face and shivered. The fire burned low in the hearth, and the wind buffeting the windows revealed the winter storm that had threatened yesterday was fully upon them now.
Out of habit, she searched the chamber for him. He was wont to rise at all manner of hours over the past four years to study or take down a note for one reason or another. The room was empty, save the three lumps buried in their bed beside the wardrobe. Baron, Dickens, and Fergie slept on, oblivious to the storm buffeting the house.
In the end, Chris had confessed he preferred cats to dogs, and that’s how Cat came to live with the Dowager Viscountess Rolandson. He’d grown impossibly more spoiled and pampered, which put him in good company with Fifi and the dachshunds.
Sarah grasped the coverlet, prepared to pull it aside when the bedchamber door swung open.
Gregor, attired only in his trousers and shirt, slipped inside, cradling their fretting five-month-old son, Bryce. He closed the panel and pressed a kiss to his son’s head. “The wee bairn thinks he’s starvin’.”
Though unfashionable, she’d elected to nurse her babe as she had Aaron, his almost two-year-old brother. Extending her arm, she gave a slight shake of her head and accepted her son’s sturdy little body. She sank into the pile of pillows, and after unlacing the front of her gown, set Bryce to her breast. Bending, she kissed his satiny cheek and inhaled his sweet scent.
“How could I have not heard him?” she asked.
“He didna cry verra long. I only heard him because I was awake, thinkin’ about the school and hospital.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Yer mother and grandmother were already fussin’ over him by the time I arrived. They changed his flannels too.”
“I’m not surprised. They both adore helping.” She raised an eyebrow and pushed her lower lip out a jot. “Why were you awake? Dr. McTavish, don’t tell me you’re nervous?”
“No’ nervous, mo ghaol.”
Thanks to the generosity of his family and other wealthy peers’ patronage, the dream she and Gregor had shared years ago to build an orphanage, a school, and a hospital for the physically incapacitated had become a reality.
New Hope Institution would officially open on January first, but seven-and-twenty children already occupied the hundred-bed orphanage, and the school had a waiting list, as well. Chris would continue to live with Mama at Grandmother’s but attend the school during the day.
After adding coal to the fire, Gregor shucked his shirt and trousers, and bare as the day he was born, climbed into the bed beside her. He, too, propped himself against the pillows before tugging her against the hard planes of his slightly hairy chest and dropping a kiss onto her forehead.
“Even after all this time, Gregor, whenever I see that scar on your side, my stomach twists sickeningly. To think, I might have lost you before I even found you.”
“It disna even pain me anymore,” he assured her.
Inserting his forefinger into Bryce’s tiny fist, the babe’s fingers hardly encircling half Gregor’s pickle-sized digit, he chuckled as their son suckled voraciously. “He has an appetite like his brother.”
Sarah looked above her and ran a hand over Gregor’s bristly jaw. “Our sons have appetites like their father and Uncle Alasdair.”
He chuckled, grazing her temple with his mouth. “Aye, they do. All the McTavish men eat like they’re hollow to their feet.”
Bryce’s hazel-blue gaze shifted between Sarah and Gregor, and he grinned. A droplet of milk trailed from his mouth before he resumed his eager feasting.
Gregor brushed his fingertips up and down her arm. Even through her night rail’s light fabric, the caress sent sensuous chills to more interesting places.
“Why weren’t you sleeping at,” she glanced at the bedside clock, “two in the morning, if you weren’t worrying?
His boyish grin held a hint of bashfulness. “I’m already plannin’ the second facility that Yvette is sponsorin’ in Scotland. What do ye think about namin’ it Second Hope Institution?”
“That’s perfect, Gregor.” She sighed and settled into his chest a bit deeper. “I knew there was a need, but I hadn’t expected the overwhelming response we’ve seen. It makes me sad we can’t do more.”
“Och, we’ll do what we can, and continue to advocate and ask others to.” He turned his attention to their son still contentedly nursing. “Between yer mother and grandmother and my mother, I fear all our bairns will be spoiled.”
“Not a bit of it. I don’t believe a child can ever be loved too much.” With her bent forefinger, she brushed the babe’s cheek. “I can scarce fathom that Mama’s been back in England almost as long as Chris and I were here without her. I’m so grateful because I feared Grandmother would be horribly lonely when we married and returned to Scotland.”
“Aye, and glad I am our bairns will ken her,” Gregor whispered as he gently extracted his finger. “Our wee son’s asleep, jo.”
His little mouth slack, Bryce had succumbed to slumber once more.
A soft rap announced Mama had come to take her grandson back to the nursery. This had become a routine in recent weeks, while Sarah and Gregor stayed at Grandmama’s until the finishing touches on New Hope were complete.
Two infants, four dogs, a pompous cat, and a mischievous parrot—yes, Biscuit had made the ocean voyage too—could be quite chaotic at times. Initially, Sarah and Gregor had planned on letting a house, but Grandmama wouldn’t have it. She insisted all were welcome to stay with her and said a little excitement would do her good.
In fact, she thrived on the commotion and nearing her five-and-seventieth birthday, claimed to be healthier than she had been in decades. No longer having a broken heart or treacherous servants likely had much to do with her renewed vigor.
The last they’d heard, Miss Wattle and Stinkwiggon had boarded a ship for America. Grandmother’s hand didn’t reach that far. Yet.
Sarah couldn’t deny Mama and Grandmama’s help with an energetic toddler, and an infant was most welcome.
After they’d wed, he’d confessed he hadn’t thought to ever marry and have children. She’d never deny the path to their meeting had been a long, treacherous hard-won journey, but that made their love all the more wondrous.
Once Sarah secured the front of her gown, she slipped from the bed. Cuddling Bryce in the crook of her arm, she padded barefoot to the door. A quick glance over her shoulder assured her Gregor had pulled the bedcoverings to his chin, sparing Mama any blushes. Still, his naughty wink and suggestive smile sent Sarah’s pulse skittering.
She opened the door, and as she expected, her mother waited there. Taking her grandson into her arms, a doting smile curving her mouth, she murmured, “I see a bit of your father’s nose and jawline.”
Mama still grieved Papa’s death.
“I do too.” Sarah kissed her son’s smooth forehead, inhaling a deep breath. Nothing smelled as wonderful as her children, except for perhaps, the brawny Scot waiting in bed. She hadn’t missed the hunger in his eyes, but he could be patient a little longer.
Sarah bussed her mother’s cheek, admonishing gently, “Don’t stay up too long, Mama. You also need your sleep.”
“Tish tosh.” Mama shook her head. “I have years to sleep. This sweet one will only be little for a short time.”
Leaning against the doorframe, Sarah watched as her mother, humming softly, wandered toward the nursery.
Overjoyed didn’t begin to describe her emotion when the letter from Mama had arrived at Craiglocky Keep saying she was safe and well at Grandmama’s house, along with Biscuit. When Santano had raided Bellewood, she and Ionie, their Jamaican housekeeper and cook, had huddled in the hidden chamber. Knowing he would likely return, Mama had secretly gone to live with Ionie in her village, taking the chamber’s contents and burying the valuables.
A Yuletide Highlander Page 11
