The lad rolled his eyes. “I like the lass, but I dinna want to be saddled with a wife when I go to university.”
“Definitely not,” Munro agreed.
Whatever Garnet was about to say was cut short when the door opened without warning.
“I found Sarah’s ring,” Esther crowed to Giles as she and Rachel seized Gray’s arms and dragged him into the chamber.
He went willingly, but only half listened to the back and forth between Munro and Esther concerning his wife’s ring, his attention fixed on Faith’s grin. He loved her shy thoughtfulness, but watching her blossom and enjoy life gladdened his heart.
He was obliged to sit on a stool next to Faith and put his already bare feet into the water. He locked eyes with Faith and traced his toe along the edge of her foot, aroused by the gleam of lust in her amber gaze.
Too soon, he was commanded to put his feet in the ashcan. Shrieks of female laughter and clouds of dust filled the air.
“Enough,” Munro coughed, fanning away the choking dust. “Everyone to the gallery for a wee dram.”
Gray and Faith were left alone as the merrymakers trooped out.
Blinking away the grit, Gray looked at his mucky feet. “Seems they’ve forgotten who the guests of honor are. What now?” he asked.
“I’ll wash off the ashes,” Faith replied, lifting her feet from the water.
It was the answer he was hoping for.
Faith had touched intimate parts of Gray’s body. Yet, as she knelt by the tub rinsing the ashes off his feet, desire spiraled into her womb. “Ye’ve beautiful toes,” she said softly.
Supporting his thigh, he lifted the foot of his injured leg out of the water. “Really? I’ve never given them much thought. I’m just glad they’re still attached to my body.”
It was a sobering reminder of how close he’d come to losing his leg. She grasped his foot and pecked a kiss on his big toe.
He gripped the sides of the stool. “Crivvens, Faith, any more of that and I’ll nay be able to wait until the morrow.”
She rose up on her knees as he bent to kiss her. Their tongues mated playfully, each wanting to go further but both recognizing this wasn’t the time or place.
They broke apart when Garnet appeared at the door. “Come on, lovebirds. We’re all waiting in the gallery to bid ye goodnight. Big day on the morrow.”
A Wedding
Gray opened the door of his chamber to Munro’s insistent knocking.
“Are ye nay coming down for breakfast?” his brother asked.
Gray shook his head. “Too nervous. Is it nearly time?”
“Another hour, but I see ye’re dressed and ready.”
“Aye. Smythe wanted to give me a hand. He was at our parents’ wedding, as ye ken. He kept telling me again how he sported our mother’s blue garter on his bonnet at the ceremony.”
Munro chuckled. “Aye, and Murtagh wore the second one. Papa was none too pleased at the time.”
Gray went to the mirror. “So, will I do?”
Munro eyed him up and down. “Ye look every inch the Highland warrior in yer Glenheath plaid, right down to the Kincaid clan brooch at yer shoulder.”
“Mother lent it to me and, strictly speaking, I’m a Lowlander.”
“Well, our mother has Highland blood, yer sister’s married to one, and ye helped quell a rebellion in the Highlands, so…close enough.”
They shared the humor until the smile left Munro’s face. “I’m very happy to share this day with ye, little brother. There was no possibility of family attending my wedding in England—other than Giles of course.”
“I’m honored to have ye as my second. There’ll be more of the Pendray family at this wedding than any other.”
“We’ve grown to be a large clan.”
“Aye.”
“Listen,” Munro said, becoming serious again. “I’m happy for ye that ye’re marrying a lass ye love. Having a loving partner makes life very enjoyable.”
“We’re lucky men,” Gray replied. “Following in Papa’s footsteps.”
“Aye. I never gave much thought to how important our parents’ loving relationship was for all of us until I fell in love myself.”
“Jewel has also been fortunate in her choice of a mate.”
“Aye, now let’s away to the chapel. I’ve been given strict instructions to take the long route so we dinna pass by the Cameron lasses’ chambers.”
Despite taking a detour to arrive at the chapel, they were still early. However, they weren’t the first to arrive. Their father was talking with the minister; Gray’s mother was supervising the placement of vases of flowers by the gardeners.
Giles and Luke stood to attention by the door, ready to greet guests. Clad in great kilts, socks and bonnets, they looked like lads born and bred in the Highlands, not orphaned English waifs.
“Ye should be proud of what ye’ve done for those two,” Gray told Munro.
“Aye. Sarah and I are proud of them.”
As if conjured by his words, Munro’s wife entered with Mary Ward in her arms. Dressed like an English lordling in dark blue velvet, Marten strutted along behind.
“Ye’d think ’twas yer son getting wed,” Gray quipped to Munro.
His brother rolled his eyes. “Pity the lass who takes on my precocious lad.”
“Nay, he’ll make a fine catch some day.”
Gray was surprised to see Esther enter holding the hand of Jewel’s son, Blair. Rachel followed with Gemma in her arms. “Are they nay attending Faith?” he asked his mother as she took Gemma from Rachel.
“They didna seem keen, so Jewel suggested they take care of her bairns.”
“Faith’s on her way,” Esther said.
“We should take our places,” Munro suggested, taking Gray’s arm.
They stood at the front of the chapel, and turned to wait.
All coherent thoughts fled from Gray’s brain when Faith approached on Garnet’s arm. The light blue gown shimmered like gossamer. The high neck showed nothing of her generous breasts, yet it was the most alluring dress he’d ever seen. Full length sleeves emphasized her elegant arms. Her long hair had been piled up on top of her head in a complicated arrangement. He licked his lips, anticipating taking out the pins and letting the chestnut glory fall over her shoulders.
Dressed in a demure frock of light green, a broadly-grinning Maggie kept the train of her sister’s gown from trailing on the stone floor.
Jewel slipped into the chapel behind them and took her place next to their parents. Gemma whimpered for her mother’s embrace.
Soon, Gray thought, Faith will bear my bairns. He could hardly wait to get started.
Garnet looked every inch the proud Highland warrior. “Take good care of her,” he rasped as he passed his foster daughter’s hand into Gray’s.
Choked with happiness as he relished the warmth of the delicate hand placed in his, Gray could only nod.
“Dearly beloved brethren,” the minister began, “we are here gathered together in the sight of God to knit and join these parties together…”
Gray heard little else as his thoughts drifted to the pleasures of knitting and joining.
“Grainger,” the minister continued, “ye shall protest here before God and his holy congregation, that ye have taken Faith for yer lawful wife and spouse, promising to keep her, to love and entreat her in all things according to the duty of a faithful husband, forsaking all other during her life, and to live in a holy conversation with her, keeping faith and truth in all points, according as the Word of God and his Holy Gospel.”
The liturgy had changed little since the days of John Knox’s Book of Common Order and he imagined his parents listening to much the same words when they were wed so many years ago.
He looked into Faith’s amber eyes. “Even so, I take Faith before God, and in the presence of his congregation.”
The minister turned to Faith. “Faith, ye shall protest here before the face of God, in the presence of th
is holy congregation, that ye have taken Grainger for yer lawful husband, promising subjection and obedience, forsaking all other during his life, and to live in a holy conversation with him, keeping faith and truth in all points, as God’s Word prescribes.”
Gray inhaled deeply when she spoke her vow clearly and without hesitation. “Even so, I take Grainger before God, and in the presence of this congregation.”
The Minister took Faith’s hand and placed it in Gray’s.
He repeated his vows after the cleric, never taking his eyes from Faith’s. “I, Grainger Pendray, take ye Faith Cameron, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight ye my troth.”
Faith’s eyes were bright as she repeated her vows. “I, Faith Cameron, take ye, Grainger Pendray to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give ye my troth.”
Munro produced the ring. The minister blessed it before leading Gray in the last of his promises as he slipped the ring on Faith’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”
“Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder,” the minister intoned. “I pronounce ye Man and Wife.”
The cleric looked down his nose with disapproval when loud applause broke out. “We’re nay finished yet. There’s the psalms and my homily yet to come.”
A hush settled again. Clutching Faith’s warm hand, Gray brushed a kiss on her knuckles and whispered, “Ye look beautiful, wife.”
“And ye look very handsome, husband.”
He turned his attention back to the psalm the minister was intoning, and prayed for patience.
Drunk On Love
Seated next to her new husband, enjoying the well wishes of a loving family and supportive community, Faith fully understood for the first time what had motivated Munro to undertake a campaign for revolutionary reform on behalf of destitute children. The offspring of a happy home, he couldn’t tolerate the idea of bairns being abused and unloved.
Similarly, Jewel hadn’t hesitated to provide a loving home for four abandoned lasses from Edinburgh.
The Pendray household was a cocoon where love was nurtured and went out into the world to spread its beauty. Now she was a part of that tradition.
“More lamb pie?” Gray asked, offering a piece of the delicious pastry on the end of one of his mother’s prized new forks.
She held up a hand. “I’m full already after the venison potage and hashed hare. They’ve yet to serve the stewed chicken with artichoke hearts and then roasted goose with leeks.”
“Don’t forget my favorite sweet. Cook has promised a rose water and rennet trifle.”
She covered her goblet when he lifted the decanter of spiced wine. “I dinna want to drink too much. I’m nay used to it.”
“Just a sip,” he coaxed. “’Tis yer wedding day.”
She was grateful when he poured a small amount.
He reached for her hand under the table and placed it over his manhood. Suddenly on fire, she wished her modest gown was sleeveless with a generous décolletage. “Taste,” he said softly. “Then lick yer lips and feel the effect yer beauty has on me.”
Desire jolted her. She risked a glance at his face, aroused further by the teasing glint in his blue eyes. She tasted cloves, then did as he bade, locking eyes with him as his manhood moved beneath her hand. “Wicked husband,” she whispered.
“Wanton wife,” he replied, licking his own lips. “I love this gown, especially now I see the exquisite embroidery. Did ye do it?”
About to take another sip of wine, she nigh on choked. “Me? Nay. I hate embroidery.”
“I thought all lasses liked to sew,” he replied, staring at her breasts, “but I’m confident ye have other womanly talents.”
He kissed her, much to the delight of the guests. Indeed, the longer they kissed, the more people cheered. She suckled his tongue like a ravenous bairn. If they had kissed so brazenly before their wedding, they’d have been slandered. Now, she was free to publicly display her need of him. It was a lot for a strictly-brought-up lass to digest.
“I fear the wine is beginning to have an effect. I feel a wee bit dizzy,” she confessed.
He laughed. “’Tisna the wine, Faith. Ye’re drunk on love and lust.”
Gray itched to suggest they steal away, but realized he’d left it too late when Munro stood to offer a toast.
He hoped his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes would make it clear to his older brother he should keep his remarks brief. Munro’s wink indicated he intended to draw out his speech as long as possible.
The guests immediately caught on to his ploy and greeted each of Munro’s declarations of Gray and Faith’s suitability for each other with prolonged cheering and applause. They laughed heartily at every amusing anecdote of the Pendray bairns’ childhood.
His wife’s warm hand cupping his manhood only intensified Gray’s impatience.
“And so we toast the health and happiness of my little brother and his bride,” Munro finally announced.
Everyone stood and repeated the sentiments.
“At last,” Gray whispered, preparing to stand in order to offer a brief reply. He groaned inwardly when his father rose.
“My turn first, son.”
“’Tis a conspiracy,” Gray murmured to Faith. “We might be here all night.”
“Patience, my love,” she replied with a suggestive smile that only served to aggravate his impatience.
“Munro has reminded us of the reasons we are all very happy to witness the union of my youngest son and his bride.”
More cheering ensued, but only the word union echoed in Gray’s head.
“However, it’s natural Munro spent most of his time talking about his brother and their antics as bairns. I want to talk about Faith.”
He might have expected his shy wife’s reaction, but the increased pressure on his arousal had him cross-eyed with need. He covered her hand with his own. “Patience,” he teased.
Her fierce blush didn’t ease his problem, but the need smoldering in her amber eyes convinced him his wife’s desire was as potent as his own.
“We can all see these two young people are anxious to bid us farewell,” his father quipped. “All I want to say is, well, Faith Cameron isn’t of my blood.”
Heat rolled over Faith when a peculiar silence greeted her father-by-marriage’s announcement. She was afraid to look at Gray, fearing he was equally perplexed.
The earl scanned the gathering and grinned. “Just as well, or we wouldn’t be here today.”
There was a smattering of laughter as people gradually grasped his meaning.
“’Tis the Welsh sense of humor,” Gray whispered before his father continued.
“Faith Cameron and her sisters came to us thanks to the loving hearts of my daughter and her husband.”
There was polite applause as Jewel and Garnet acknowledged his praise with a nod.
“Despite the difficulties they faced in Edinburgh, all four Cameron lasses have brought only happiness to our family. They may not have been born of my blood, but they are my granddaughters just the same.”
Banging of tankards on tables followed.
A warmth blossomed in Faith’s heart. She’d been confident the earl was fond of her, but his feelings evidently went beyond that.
“Faith is a quiet lass, but don’t let that fool you. There’s an inner strength inside that demure exterior, and Gray is fortunate to have her as his wife and helpmate. I am immensely proud to once again welcome my new daughter-by-marriage to our family.” He raised his goblet. “To Faith Cameron Pendray.”
The toast echoed around
the hall.
Gray leaned close to her ear. “They’ll expect ye to respond.”
She stood on trembling legs and looked out at the expectant crowd. As Gray’s wife she had to get over her aversion for being the center of attention. The smiles gave her courage. “I thank ye, all of ye, for yer love and affection. I thank God every day for the gift of this family and the people of Kilmer.”
The silence surprised her. Perhaps it was because they’d never heard her voice before. She decided to take a chance and give them a glimpse of the inner Faith. “Now, if ye’ll excuse us, my husband and I have important business to attend to.”
Uproarious laughter resulted when a broadly grinning Gray scooped her up and carried her from the hall.
Shenanigans
Halfway up the stairs to the second floor, Gray realized he was expecting too much of his recently mangled leg.
Faith tightened her grip around his neck. “Let me walk the rest of the way, then ye can pick me up and carry me over the threshold.”
He was going to argue, but thought better of it. “Ye’re right,” he admitted, setting her down. “After all, I’ll need both legs in fine fettle for…”
She looked at him curiously. “For what?”
He pulled her close, inhaling the scent of lavender. “I apologize for being an uncouth lout. ’Tis no way for a husband to talk to his bride. I just meant I dinna want ye to feel ye’re joining with a mon who canna…”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Gray, if yer leg pains ye while we’re making love, ’tis naught to be ashamed of. We’ll just think of a way for us both to be comfortable.”
He chuckled. “Ye’ve been talking to Jewel.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Actually, yer mother took me aside to have a wee chat about what happens between a man and his wife in the bedchamber.”
His heart swelled with pride. His mother had fulfilled the role Faith’s own mother would likely never have assumed if she’d lived. “Ye couldna have a better tutor,” he whispered.
Highland Rising (The House of Pendray Book 4) Page 17
