Chapter 14
I love her, he had said. I don't want to love her.
They were not exactly the words a bride wishes to hear, but for Gillian, they were close enough.
"Uh, princess." Jake shoved his fingers through his hair. "Gillian, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. But no matter what, you shouldn't have been eavesdropping. Like my mama always told me, no eavesdropper ever hears good about himself. Didn't anyone ever teach you that?"
She arched a brow. Really, the man did his cause no good. Assuming she was angry about what she'd overheard, he obviously felt defensive, and in a natural, if misguided, masculine reaction, he went on the attack. "Dammit, woman. Don't act like a five-year-old about this. I swear, sometimes Robbie could give you lessons on maturity."
All right, now he'd gone too far. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, feeling more alive than she could ever remember, Gillian jumped headfirst into the game—by letting loose a small sob and turning and running for the castle.
As expected, he took off after her. "Gillian! Wait, come back here."
She lifted her skirts and picked up speed, confident she could outrun him. She gave free rein to her smile as she ran, tamping it down only when she entered the castle and dashed past the obviously curious Morgans.
She headed for the Maiden's Tower and hurried up the winding staircase. She knew exactly what she wanted, and how she wanted to get it. Upon reaching what she'd begun to think of as the Honeymoon Room, she darted inside, then slammed and locked the door behind her.
Bang! Bong! Bang! Gillian hummed a song as she arranged pillows and blankets to suit her.
Bang! Bang! Bang! "Gillian! Open this door!"
Knowing that her time was limited—her husband was quite good with locks—she hurried to complete her preparations.
Gillian Ross Delaney stripped naked and waited for her husband to break into the room.
She didn't wait long. She heard a scraping sound at the lock, then the knob turned and the door was shoved open. "Dammit Gillian," he cursed as he barged into the room, "nothing is ever sol—"
Jake swallowed his words and quite possibly his tongue. Gillian lifted her arms toward him and spoke the words in her heart. "All I ever wanted was your love, Jake Delaney. I love you, too. If you still want my company on your adventures, I will go along."
"Yes. Oh God, yes." His gaze never leaving her, he immediately began pulling off his clothes, "I thought you were angry."
"I know. You don't know me as well as I know you." When he looked like he thought to argue the point, she stepped up to help him with his clothes. When her hands brushed across his chest to slip his shirt off his shoulders, he sucked in a breath past gritted teeth. "I've been loved outdoors today already. I wanted you here, in this room, where I first realized how much I love you."
"Oh, princess." He bore her down upon the blankets and loved her with a fierce tenderness that both roused her to the heights of passion and wrung tears of joy from her soul. His warmth was her warmth. His heart, hers. She was complete, whole and happy and fulfilled for the first time in her life.
Still inside her, he rose above her and stared down into her eyes. Solemnly, he declared, "I do love you, Gillian Delaney. I love your heart and your energy and your spunk. I love your loyalty to those you love. I love the fire you bring to our bed." Then a quick flash of a grin. "And to our blankets."
He leaned down and kissed away the sweet tear that spilled from her eye. "I will make you happy, Gillian. You have my promise."
He kissed her lips, then, and kept on kissing her until his body hardened once again and her feminine core wept with need. She gloried in the intensity of his passion. Every touch, every taste, every sound a reaffirmation of the vow he made to her. When it was over, he cradled her against him. His hand brushed slow, soothing strokes across her heated skin and quietly, they spoke of the future they would share.
"I never thought I could convince you to come with me."
She smiled, though a bit sadly. "I thought I could open your eyes to all the adventure Scotland has to offer. I will be truthful with you, Jake. I dinna share your dreams of adventure, not the way you wish."
As his finger painted an imaginary swirl upon her stomach, she attempted to explain. "I have no ambition to see Egyptian pyramids or kangaroos in the Australian outback. My dream is different. I dream of tucking my bairns to sleep beneath the roof of my very own home. I dream of retiring to my bed each night with my husband who loves me to distraction."
His voice rumbled low and soft. "It doesn't seem to me that our goals are mutually exclusive. If we're willing to compromise a bit, I don't see why we can't both get what we want. I mean, you already have the husband who loves you to distraction and I'll be happy to work on getting you those babies any time you wish."
She smiled and stretched sinuously against him as his finger wandered upward to trace a path across her breasts. "That's what I realized. As long as I have you and your love, I dinna need the roof."
He rolled above her yet again, grinning wickedly. "I'll be your roof, princess. Anytime. Anyplace. Or your blanket. I'm versatile."
So saying, he set out to prove it. He accomplished his task admirably, then collapsed onto the floor beside her. "I think you've killed me."
Gillian wanted to reply, but couldn't catch her breath enough to speak. Minutes later, he said, "I hate to bring this up, princess, but I guess I'd better. What about Angus and Robbie? Are you all right about leaving them?"
She wondered if he purposely waited until she was completely exhausted to bring up the subject. "It winna be easy. But it is not like I will be leaving them to fend for themselves. Flora has long offered to see to their care-taking. They will be happy enough at Laichmoray."
"Good." He lifted his head and propped it on his elbow. "You wouldn't believe how often I've fantasized about you, me, and a Bora Bora beach. I can't wait, princess. Cole brought me the papers from my grandfather. The trust has been released, so I can complete the business about the castle with Angus. I'm not trying to rush you, but how soon do you think you can be ready to leave? As soon as this party is over?"
Gillian tried to ignore the sinking sensation in her stomach caused by his question. Glad to have something other than leaving her home and homeland to ponder, she sat up, pasted on a cheerful smile, and said, "Possibly. I've a task to complete, first. I've promised my help to someone, but I might be able to see it done by the foy. I will need to think of a plan."
"You and your plans. You scare me. Gilly. What is this task all about?" Jake followed her lead and reached for his pants. "Who are you wanting to help?"
Bracing herself for an explosion, she leaned over and pressed a kiss against his cheek. "Annabelle Maclean. She confessed to firing the shot that surprised us this morning. I've promised to help her win back David's love."
Jake Delaney's subsequent shout rocked Rowanclere's ancient walls.
* * *
It set the pattern for the days that followed.
To say Jake wasn't happy about Gillian's proposed meddling in the Macleans' marriage was like saying Scooter had trouble climbing up stairs. While he liked the general idea of a strong marriage between that damnable David and his wife, he despised the idea of his own bride being involved in the matter in any way, shape, form, or fashion. Though he'd never admit it to a soul, he felt a bit uneasy... well, more than uneasy. He felt threatened at the notion of Gillian having anything at all to do with Maclean.
It wasn't that he doubted her love or her integrity, because he didn't. Maclean, however, was another matter entirely. Jake didn't trust him any farther than he could throw him. Hell, any man who'd had a taste of the heaven to be found in Gillian's arms would be bound to come sniffing around for more. Especially when he wasn't getting his pistol oiled at home.
Such thoughts were part of the reason why, while the Lady of Rowanclere made plans for an assault on the wall separating David Maclean and his wife, the new laird o
f Rowanclere laid siege to his own castle, so to speak. Each day he fought a subtle battle with gifts and pretty words and acts of tenderness and kindness. Every night, he waged his war on the sometimes sweet, and sometimes stormy battlefield of their bed. And while the laird breached his lady-wife's defenses both physically and mentally, it was against his own fears and doubts that he waged war.
He worried that something would happen before they left. He worried that some catastrophic event might occur and prevent her from leaving.
The sooner they departed Rowanclere, the better. That particular certainty was the reason Jake agreed to participate in Gillian's latest bit of theater. It was the reason he was on his way to a strategy session in Rowanclere's library.
"Well, if it's not the Diabolical Duo," he said, spying his wife and sister with their heads together, giggling. "Where's your apprentice? I thought Quick Draw was supposed to be at this meeting."
Chrissy snorted. "If you're referring to Annabelle, then she'll be back in a few minutes. Robyn insisted on showing her the chariot y'all made for Scooter."
Jake nodded and poured himself a drink. Having already suffered two of these get-togethers, he knew he'd want a belt of good whisky sooner or later.
Judging by the first thing out of his bride's mouth after Annabelle joined them a few moments later, sooner was the applicable term. "Annabelle, I have considered your suggestion, and I believe you are right. I, rather than Chrissy, should be the one to pay particular attention to David at the foy."
Whisky burned a path down Jake's throat. "Wait just one minute. I thought the idea of this entire plan was to help repair damage to the Macleans' marriage, not cause more."
The three women shared a rueful look, then proceeded to ignore him.
Gillian took a seat at the library desk and removed a sheet of paper from a drawer. "Going over the checklist... Annabelle, you reviewed the guest list with Uncle Angus and confirmed he did not forget anyone?"
"I did."
"Chrissy, food preparations?"
"The supplies we ordered have arrived and Mrs. Ferguson is happily baking and broiling. She's not too keen about turning over her kitchen to me for an afternoon so I can mix up my chili, but we've reached a compromise. Everything should be ready on schedule."
"Excellent." Gillian made a check on the paper. "Jake, about the whisky and ale?"
He stretched out his legs, crossed them at the ankles, and folded his arms. "Angus told me what to order and I ordered it. It'll be here tomorrow. You know that, Gillian. I told you yesterday."
She frowned at him. "Don't pout, Texas."
As the discussion digressed into fashion and the ladies' own attire to the party, Jake sat sulking and sipping his drink. How the hell had he allowed himself to get involved in this? He should have called a halt to Gillian's plan the minute he heard about it. Cole had been right to call him nine kinds of fool for putting up with this nonsense. Of course, Morgan was one to talk. Wasn't he rowing Loch Rowanclere right this very minute, headed for the village to buy spices for Chrissy's chili?
"Well," said Gillian, dropping her pen onto the desk. "That should just about do it. Everyone knows their part. We'll plan to meet—" She broke off abruptly at the sound of Mrs. Ferguson's screech. "David Maclean, you get back here. Miss Annabelle is not here and you will not be bursting into my laird's library looking for mischief."
Everyone to the room realized they had been given a warning. Jake pointed at Annabelle, then to the desk. As she scrambled to hide herself, he joined Gillian and wrapped her in his arms. Giving Gillian a passionate kiss was a fitting distraction, he decided.
The door flew open. "Where is she? Where's my wife!"
Jake didn't have to pretend to be annoyed. "Maclean, what the devil are you doing here? I seem to recall warning you not to step foot on Rowanclere land at risk of losing your... pride."
The Scotsman's gaze flickered around the room. "So it's not you she's meeting. It's the other American. She said—"
Chrissy set down her cup and saucer with a clatter. In a weak female voice entirely unlike her, she gasped, then asked, "Sir, are you implying that your wife is with my husband?"
Gillian pulled herself out of Jake's arms, appearing delightfully mussed. Watching her, he wished he hadn't kissed her after all, because now she sparkled even more than normal as she gazed up at her former beau.
"Cole has gone to the village today," she said in a chastising tone. "He's picking up supplies for our foy. David, you speak out of turn. You winna find your wife at Rowanclere."
The man didn't like being scolded by Gillian, Jake saw. He also obviously believed what she said because he gave a curt nod, then departed.
No one moved until Jake said, "All right, Annabelle. I think it's safe for you to come out."
She crawled from beneath the desk and brushed off her skirts. "It's working. He's jealous, I can tell."
Jake watched the young woman study Gillian with eyes alight with interest. What did she think when she watched the woman her husband still claimed to love? Glancing at his wife, Jake knew what he thought. The need to have her was a fever in his blood, a combination of his customary lust for her, the jealousy that surged through him at each sight of that damned Maclean, and the effect of the kiss they just shared.
Because his attention was focused on his wife, he didn't realize Annabelle had moved until she stood directly in front of him, her face lifted toward his. "I need to look all lovely and mussed like Gillian when I go home. You'd better kiss me like you did her."
Jake gawked at her pursed lips, then shot Gillian an entreating gaze. His wife sighed and shook her head. "Nice try, Annabelle, but I don't share. Go home and prepare for the foy."
* * *
Two days before the party. Gillian spent the morning with Robyn doing nothing more serious than playing. They held a mock sword battle in the muniment room, took Scooter on a long ramble across the glen, and chased Mrs. Ferguson from the kitchen long enough to make a batch of scones. They teased and laughed and giggled. It was such fun.
It was all Gillian could do not to burst into tears.
The preparations for the foy had helped her keep thoughts about her pending departure from Rowanclere at bay, but as the day grew closer, she had to face reality. As much as she loved Jake, the thought of leaving her family all but tore her in two.
She hadn't told them yet because she needed to talk with Flora first. While she knew her twin wouldn't hesitate to make a place for Angus and Robyn at Laichmoray, good manners required she wait for her sister to offer first.
Around lunchtime, melancholy settled over her and Gillian escaped to her bedchamber for some time alone. Walking to the window, she drew back the drapery. Outside, a small flock of blackbirds swooped and swept through the air before landing on a patch of green grass. From the periphery of her vision, she spied a couple walking hand in hand back toward the castle from a stroll along the shore of Loch Rowanclere. Gillian liked Chrissy and Cole very much. They planned to return to Texas when she and Jake departed for the South Seas. Watching them, Gillian wondered if Jake was at all disconcerted at the idea of being separated from his family by more than one ocean.
The blackbird flock took flight and as Gillian turned away from the window, movement out on the road caught her notice. A coach rattled its way up the road toward Rowanclere. Slowly, it drew close enough to identify, and in that instant, Gillian's melancholy disappeared. "Flora!"
Pausing only long enough to check on Angus, she raced for the entry hall and dashed outside just as the conveyance rolled to a halt in front of the castle. Seconds later, the sisters flew into one another's arms.
Flora burst into tears almost immediately. "Oh, Gilly, you got married and I wasn't here."
"I'm sorry. I wanted to wait for you, but—"
"I'm the one who is sorry. I'd have come the moment I received your letter about your nuptials, but first I caught the sniffles, and then each of the boys fell ill. We didn't want to b
ring sickness to Rowanclere.
"But, Gilly, I missed your wedding. What, happened? Your note said little more than that the two of you had married. The last I knew, you sent Delaney away. When did he return? Why did you allow it? Why is Uncle Angus hosting a foy? You must tell me every little detail starting with why in the world you married that Texan."
"Why wouldn't she marry that Texan?" Jake's sister snapped as she swept through the castle's open door. "Jake is a fine catch. An exceptional catch."
With her sister and sister-in-law facing each other like a pair of hissing cats, Gillian quickly performed the introductions. The two women nodded stiffly.
Alasdair disembarked from the coach carrying a child in each arm. Gillian started to go to them, but Flora caught her hand and held her in place. Her twin was not to be put off. "Good catch or no, what I wish to hear is how your brother ended up on my sister's plate."
"A run of good luck, I should say." Chrissy lifted her chin, folded her arms, and scowled.
Gillian realized she had better intercede before a cat fight erupted. She took a deep breath and offered a condensed version of the facts surrounding her marriage. When she finished. Chrissy Morgan scoffed. "Gillian Delaney, how many times do I have to say this? If you think my brother married you to get his trust fund, you are a fool. Jake may have used this 'debt' idiocy as an excuse, but if he hadn't wanted to marry you, the Queen of England could not have made him do it."
She paused, thought for a moment, then added, "Shoot, not even our mother could have made him do it. Jake married you because he wanted to marry you. He loves you."
"I know that," Gillian quietly responded. "However, if he could have gained access to his trust fund without marrying, I doubt we'd be married today. He'd have bought my home, then run off to Rangoon."
"You may be right," Chrissy said with a shrug. "However, I still believe that deep inside himself, Jake wants to call off his travels. Remember, he is a man, that in itself is difficult to overcome. Men are slow to understand the workings of their own hearts, and we women must be patient with them. It's our duty as the more intelligent of the couple."
Sizzle All Day, Bad Luck Wedding #4 (Bad Luck Abroad) Page 24
