Sinful Scottish Laird--A Historical Romance Novel

by Julia London

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THREE DAYS AGO, the bishop had brought around Lord Vanderberg. He had a poorly powdered wig that emitted a faint but unpleasant scent. His breeches gaped around his spindly legs, and his complexion—a shade of gray—seemed sickly to Daisy.

  He greeted her with a warm smile and showed Ellis his Bible. He politely inquired of Ellis about his religious instruction.

  “I attend church services with my mother,” Ellis muttered.

  “That’s a good boy,” his lordship said. “Now then, do be so kind as to run along to your governess so that I might have a word with your mother, will you?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Ellis said and dodged the man’s liver-spotted hand as he hurried from the room.

  Lord Vanderberg smiled at Daisy and invited her to join him at the other end of the room, away from the bishop and his men. He gestured for her to sit in the only chair there and stood above her—crookedly, with his hands clasped behind his back. “Now then,” he said. “My lord bishop tells me you’ve enjoyed your freedom these last few years.”

  “Pardon?”

  “By that I mean you have not attended church as often as perhaps you should have done—is that not so?”

  Daisy glanced at the bishop, who pretended to be reading from his Bible. “I didn’t realize my attendance was an issue,” she said coolly.

  “Yes, well...if I may, Lady Chatwick, if we are to come to terms, I must be able to count on you to be a willing and devout partner in our faith and service to the Lord.”

  Daisy was not afraid to pledge devotion and service to the Lord...but his request seemed so much more than that. As if she were pledging to be willing and devout in service to him.

  Lord Vanderberg arched a gray caterpillar of a brow. “Do I sense hesitation?”

  “You do not,” she said. “I confess I am slightly taken aback, my lord, as no one has ever questioned my devotion to the Lord.”

  “No? I think we must question our devotion every day,” he said and smiled, showing his yellow teeth. “It is doubly important that we do so for the sake of young Lord Chatwick.”

  She didn’t hear what else he said; she was fighting off a swell of nausea. Lord Vanderberg ended his call by asking her to bow her head and join him in prayer for Ellis.

  This morning, the bishop brought around Lord Yarbrough, who smiled salaciously throughout their meeting. At least he was handsome...but that was the only thing she could say for him. They had not stayed long; Lord Yarbrough begged her forgiveness with the excuse that he had a prior appointment.

  She was surprised when he called again not an hour later, without the company of the bishop. When Rowley showed him into her salon, he bowed deeply and said, “I beg your pardon, madam, but I thought perhaps it might be more productive if we met without the watchful eye of Bishop Craig.”

  Daisy smiled. At least she agreed with him in that regard. He took her hand and then, quite surprisingly, licked her knuckle. “Mmm,” he said, and glanced up at her through lashes so long that she wondered if they were real. “I had heard of your beauty, Lady Chatwick...but it was quite understated.”

  She pulled her hand free of his and said, “I am expecting my son to join me at any moment.”

  “A pity,” he purred. “As to the boy... I was educated at Framingham. I would assume the same for him?”

  Daisy started. She would not send Ellis away. “He has a tutor.”

  “Naturally. But he should be with boys his age.” His gaze meandered over Daisy, taking her in. “I would think a new bride would want to send her son away, at least for a time.” He casually touched the jewel at her throat. “She might be quite well occupied.” He smiled salaciously. “As will his new stepfather.”

  “My lord—”

  “A widow for nearly three years, isn’t that so? You must be near to bursting with desire,” he murmured and traced a line from the jewel at her throat to the top of her breasts.

  Daisy pushed his hand away. “Is this your way of courting me?”

  He laughed. “There is no need to court you, madam. It’s simply a matter of coming to terms, and when we do, you will be my lawful wife with all the attendant privileges that conveys.”

  “And if I don’t come to terms with you?”

  He shrugged. “Then you will be sorry. Were I a woman, I should much rather lie in the bed of a man who still has his wits about him than one who sleeps with a Bible.”

  Daisy was beginning to quake. With rage, with frustration, with revulsion. “Please go, my lord.”

  He smirked as he touched her face. “If you wish,” he said and bowed grandly before her. “Send word when you’ve come to your senses, and we will, as his lord bishop has suggested, assess compatibility.” He winked at her and walked out of the room.

  When the door closed softly behind him, Daisy began to shake. She fisted her hands at her sides, trying to tamp down her rage. She had done this to herself—if she had tried in earnest to find a suitable husband, she might have spared herself this agony now. She couldn’t bear to think of either Vanderberg’s or Yarbrough’s hands on her.

  “Daisy?”

  She hadn’t heard Belinda enter the room. “Not now, Belinda, please,” she said and reached for the settee, falling onto it. “I am unwell.”

  Belinda closed the door behind her and hurried to Daisy’s side. “What has made you ill?”

  “Is it not obvious? I’m heartsick! I am utterly and completely heartsick, Belinda.” She forced herself to sit up and took Belinda’s hands in hers. “What am I to do?” she begged her cousin. “I can’t bear the thought of either one of them.”

  “Neither of them, then,” Belinda said.

  “You know very well I must choose one, or I will lose everything! You’ve been warning me of my demise for an age! Why didn’t I listen to you?”

  “It happened to Mrs. Cully,” Belinda said. “After her husband died, she discovered her great debt. She was forced to debtor’s prison in his stead,” she said ominously.

  Daisy closed her eyes with a moan and sagged against the cushions.

  “There is something I must show you,” Belinda whispered.

  Daisy shook her head, imagining a painting or a piece of pottery Belinda had completed. “No, not now. My heart is too heavy.”

  “It will help you, I swear it.”

  Daisy groaned again. Her cousin meant well. “Nothing will help me, darling. The only thing that would cure me is if I somehow, miraculously, became a man.”

  Belinda frowned. She worried a cuticle. And then she nodded, as if someone had spoken to her, and stood up. “I never ask you for anything, Daisy. But I am asking you this,” she said. She went to the door of the salon and opened it, calling for Rowley. “Please bring our cloaks.”

  “What? No,” Daisy said.

  Belinda said nothing and waited for Rowley to return. When he did, she took the cloaks from him, marched across the room to Daisy and held hers out to her. “You’ve not been out of this house in days.”

  Daisy could not recall ever seeing such determination in Belinda before. She snatched the cloak from her cousin’s hands. “Very well. But I best be helped, Belinda,” she warned her.

  She donned her cloak and refused Belinda’s suggestion that she repair her hair—apparently a few locks had come undone. Daisy didn’t care if they had. She didn’t care about anything.

  The wind whipped down the street when the two women stepped outside, but Belinda walked on, her head down. She kept firm hold of Daisy’s hand, lest she mean to run back inside, and dragged her along behind her.

  “It’s wretchedly cold!” Daisy complained. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Belinda said staunchly. She turned down an alleyway onto another street. They were going away fr
om Grosvenor Square, away from Mayfair and away from Hyde Park.

  “Belinda! This is absurd. Where are you taking me?”

  Belinda wouldn’t answer.

  They had walked for half an hour when Daisy yanked her hand out of Belinda’s grip, forcing her to halt. “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  Belinda pointed up the street to a small parish church.

  Daisy gaped at it. “You forced me out in this wretched weather to escort me to church?” she all but shouted. “Are you mad?”

  “Just come,” Belinda said, sounding almost as angry as Daisy. Her jaw was set, her color high.

  “No!” Daisy said petulantly.

  “Can you not, for once, do something for me, Daisy?” Belinda shouted at her. “Just once.”

  The admonishment struck Daisy in her heart. Belinda was absolutely right—Belinda never asked for anything from Daisy. She was grateful for her room and keep and had been there for Daisy whenever she needed her. Daisy nodded meekly. “Yes,” she said. “Of course I can.”

  Belinda seemed slightly surprised by her small victory but hardly mollified. She whirled about and continued on. And Daisy followed obediently.

  At the church steps, Daisy complained at the sight of her muddied and wet hem.

  Belinda opened the door to the church and sent Daisy inside before her.

  An Anglican vicar with unkempt hair and rheumy eyes appeared in the narthex. “Welcome,” he said, smiling as if he knew her.

  “I beg your pardon,” Daisy said apologetically as she removed her cloak. “We don’t wish to disturb you.”

  The vicar nodded and disappeared into the interior of the church.

  Daisy frowned at Belinda. “Did you bring me here to pray over me? The good Lord knows I need it.”

  “Go into the nave,” Belinda said and took Daisy’s cloak from her. “I’ll be along.”

  Well, then. Daisy supposed at the very least she might sit in a pew and brood about her wretched situation. Maybe that’s what Belinda thought she needed. Very well, she’d oblige her and pray with all her heart for a miracle.

  When she stepped into the small nave, her gaze was drawn to candles flickering at the chancel. A man was standing there, and though it took a moment for Daisy to fully recognize him, her heart seized. And then began to beat wildly. Cailean.

  It was him. It was really, truly him.

  She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t understand it. She couldn’t seem to move, or even think, really, so hard was her heart beating—with anxiety. With love. With wonder.

  He was dressed in a coat and waistcoat and breeches; his hair was combed and tied in a neat queue. He looked quite different from the last time she’d seen him, and she couldn’t grasp the circumstances by which he was here. She was afraid it was a trick, or that if she blinked, he would disappear.

  He didn’t disappear. He began to walk down the center aisle toward her, his steps cautious. When he reached her, he took her hands in his, then gently drew her into his embrace.

  “How?” she whispered into his coat.

  “With Belinda’s help, aye? It took all my powers of persuasion, but she at last relented and agreed to help me.”

  She leaned back so that she could see his face, his lovely, handsome face and blue eyes shining with love. “Why are you here? Don’t you know how dangerous it is?”

  “Daisy, lass...is it no’ obvious, then?” he asked. “I’m lost without you. My world was gray and plain...and then you stepped into it and made it bright again, aye? I was a fool to have let you go.”

  Her heart began to swell with love. And torment. Oh God, how this declaration would torment her all her life.

  “I never expected to fall in love with you, aye? But I did, headfirst and irretrievably. I love you, Daisy. I ardently love you. And I’d sooner die than no’ have you.”

  “P-pardon?” she stammered. She still didn’t understand. All the reasons they couldn’t be together still existed, and some of them had been made worse. Robert’s threats echoed in her head.

  “Diah,” he muttered, his gaze moving over her. “Tell me it’s no’ too late. For God’s sake, tell me it’s no’ too late.”

  Of course it was too late. How could he think otherwise? “But what of Scotland? Of Balhaire and Arrandale? Of your...occupation,” she whispered, looking furtively about. “What of Ellis? Nothing has changed, Cailean.”

  “Aye, it has. I’d as soon be English than lose you—do you no’ understand? If a Highlander wants something, he bloody well reaches for it, but I’ve no’ reached for anything in a very long time. And during the darkest and longest days of my life, I realized I didna reach when I had you in my arms. Daisy, leannan, my world canna exist without you. So I have come to offer for your hand in marriage,” he said, sinking down onto one knee before her. “And if you accept my offer, the vicar will marry us now.”

  Daisy’s mouth gaped open with shock. She was afraid to speak, afraid the emotions, the love and relief, would make her collapse. Her thoughts were utter chaos, because this didn’t seem possible. He would wed her now? It was madness—but she wanted nothing more than to marry him. Ellis wanted nothing more than that, too.

  She didn’t realize tears were sliding down her face until she tasted them on her lips. “Dear God,” she whispered. “Dear God.”

  Cailean gripped her hands. “Do you still love me, Daisy?”

  Daisy was shaking with emotion. It seemed as if every trouble she’d ever had was lifting from her, making her feel almost weightless. That was absurd, for their problems were just as present now as they ever had been. But they felt lighter. In this moment, with her heart bursting, they felt insignificant.

  “For the love of God, will you speak, then?” he asked.

  She suddenly smiled. “I do still love you,” she said. “More than anything, Cailean. You have answered my prayers.” She sank down onto her knees, too. “I don’t know how we will manage, I don’t know what will become of Ellis, and Robert has threatened to see you turned over to authorities—”

  “Pardon?”

  “But I know that my son will have a good man to raise him, and I will have a good man to love. Yes, Cailean, I will marry you.”

  He sighed with relief and hung his head for a moment. “Mo maise, mo muirninn,” he muttered, and lifted his face to hers. His blue eyes were swimming in emotion. “Thank you,” he said, squeezing her hands. “Thank you for making me the happiest man.” He kissed her, then pulled her to her feet.

  Daisy heard Belinda’s sob, then laughed with surprise when Belinda threw her arms around her from behind. “Thank heavens!” Belinda said. “I’ll fetch the vicar.”

  And so it happened that on that horribly cold afternoon, Daisy married her one and only true love in the eyes of God. She didn’t care about the scandal that would surely follow. She didn’t care that she would be made a pariah, or that the bishop likely would censure her. She cared only that she and Ellis had found someone to love them and protect them. And when the vicar pronounced them wed, she kissed Cailean with all the joy and hope and the promise of what was to come, and then nearly fainted from happiness.

  * * *

  BELINDA HAD PROVED surprisingly resourceful. Apparently, she’d instructed Rowley to send a portmanteau with some of Daisy’s things to Knox’s town house on Portland Street before she’d forced Daisy to come with her.

  Daisy and Cailean retreated there after the wedding. It was best, Cailean suggested, since they had not posted banns or received special license, if they sealed their union with two or three days of conjugal bliss. “The marriage is done, aye? Our names signed on the parish register. But if the bishop has any notion of annulment, a few nights spent in the arms of your husband will make it difficult, will it no’?”

  “Exceedingly,” she agreed. �
�But what of Ellis?”

  Cailean smiled. “I trust you’ll no’ mind that I sent a note to the lad with Belinda. She’ll bring him round on the morrow.” He drew her into his embrace. “But as for today, Lady Mackenzie, you must attend your husband.”

  “With great pleasure,” she said and kissed him.

  “The pleasure,” he said as he swept her up in his arms, “will be mine, leannan.” He carried her up the stairs to the master suite and deposited her on the bed. He climbed on top of her and gazed down at her, eyes shining with love and clear desire. “I have missed you, leannan,” he said. “God, how I’ve missed you.”

  “Show me how much,” she said, and she sighed with delight when he put his hand on her ankle and began to slide it up her leg.

  EPILOGUE

  One year later

  THERE WAS A painting that Belinda had done of the of the little parish church that graced the Chatwick Hall in Nottinghamshire, just next to the door of Daisy’s sitting room. It was the same church where Daisy and Cailean had said their first vows. The vows that Bishop Craig tried desperately to undo in the ensuing scandal created by the clandestine marriage of Lady Chatwick to a sinful Scottish laird, for which everyone said she showed absolutely no remorse.

  Bishop Craig was a powerful man indeed, but he was no match for Cailean’s uncle Knox, who, as it happened, had very recently been on a hunt with the archbishop of Canterbury. The two men had enjoyed each other’s company immensely, apparently, so much so that the archbishop was persuaded to intervene.

  Uncle Knox did insist, however, after the furor had died down, that Daisy and Cailean obtain a special license and take their vows again—from the archbishop himself. No one would question them then.

  Daisy and Cailean were happy to do it, particularly as Ellis had not been present the first time. Ah, Ellis. If there was anyone happier about the marriage than Daisy, it was he. It seemed to his mother that the boy had shed an outer cocoon and had emerged a happy, joyful boy.

  They’d retreated to the country and Chatwick Hall out of necessity. There was too much talk in London, too many who were vocally critical of Daisy’s sudden marriage to a Scotsman. Most notably among the critics was Robert Spivey, who made some public accusations against Cailean, all of them quite true. But it was the captain’s word against his, and Cailean and Daisy steadfastly denied it.