But she bet at one time, her mother had thought the same about her father.
Chapter Eighteen
Hell.
Finlay drove his fingers through his hair as he looked up at the ceiling that needed a fresh painting.
Why had he yelled at her? She’d only been trying to help. But letting her do so would mean admitting she’d married a man undeserving of her strong will and intelligence, a man who could barely read. He couldn’t let her know the truth.
He was supposed to take care of his wife and expanding family, but how would she have faith in him if she learned his secret?
He’d been looking at the numbers all day, and as soon as he thought he’d found a problem, his gaze became unfocused, and he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the errors or if they were real. It all appeared to be written in another language, and he wished he’d opened the books and asked about it before Mr. Gerrick left.
Standing, he walked around the room and stretched. He’d hoped to have this figured out by the time his father and brothers arrived tomorrow. Och, he’d forgotten to tell Blair or the cook they would be coming tomorrow. He’d have to inform them in the morning.
After settling back in at his desk, he took a sip of the wine Blair had brought to him. She had such a kind heart he couldn’t disappoint her, so he examined the second book, hoping it would be easier to read. It wasn’t. If anything his head ached more.
…
Pushing the door in hours later, Finlay was pleased Blair had left a candle burning for him on a side table. Undressing quickly, he threw his plaid and shirt onto a chair and advanced toward the bed. It was nice to know her warm, willing body waited beneath the covers. But when he reached the mattress, she wasn’t there.
Panic hit first, then fear, then anger.
Where the hell was she? Lifting the candle, he looked around the chamber. She had been here—her gown was hung neatly near the open window, most likely to air in the breeze of the open panes. When he didn’t find her, he hurried through the dressing area and into the connecting bedroom.
He almost didn’t see her, the small lump beneath the covers.
What was she doing? They had never discussed it, but he wanted her in his bed every night. This wouldn’t do.
After marching back to the main room, he set the candle down, then pulled back the covers. Quietly, he negotiated his way through the dark and back to her side, but he had to let his eyes adjust before drawing back the covers. When scooping her up in his arms, he caught the scent of lavender and wondered if she’d used the packs Maggie had made her for the journey.
Making his way back to their bed, he inhaled and breathed her in. Mixed in with the lavender was the slightest hint of something else, something exotic, something purely Blair. She didn’t stir except to lean into his chest and nuzzle her head against his biceps.
He’d have to talk to her tomorrow about his expectations for their marriage, but for now he’d let her sleep. He was beyond exhausted himself. So he lay down with her, pulled the covers up, and wrapped his arms around her. Despite the comfort and warmth of Blair’s nearness, he had trouble falling asleep.
In the morning, he woke with a stiff ache between his legs, his wife still beside him. He turned into her, waking her gently with soft kisses on her neck as his fingers slid down to tease at that sweet spot between her legs. When she was fully awake, wet and arching into him for more, he settled between her thighs and filled her until she cried out from the pleasure, and he once again spilled his seed inside her.
He gave her a final kiss before rolling over onto his side so that he could study the sleepy, thoroughly ravished woman who lay beside him.
Which reminded him, he never wanted to wake a day without her.
“Ye willnae stay in the other room.”
“Why?” Her gaze, which only moments ago had been warm and soft with rapture, became icy and cold. She rose up on her elbows and turned away from him as her brow crinkled.
“Ye are my wife, and ye belong here in this bed.” Why was she having such a problem with this?
She blinked a few times as if his words were soaking in, but then she pinned him with a determined gaze. “Ye can come get me whenever ye like.”
“Nae. Ye will stay here.” He sat up, his ire starting to rise along with her stubbornness.
“Why?”
“Because we are partners, and I want ye by my side.”
Sitting up completely now, she drew the blankets close to her chest, covering the breasts he’d yet to examine in the daylight.
“We weren’t partners when ye didnae show up for the midday meal.” She threw back the covers, no longer shy, her flushed skin bared to his view. His mouth watered until he thought about what she said and took in her angry stance. “We weren’t partners when ye hid in yer study without speaking to me all afternoon.” She rose from the bed and turned her back to him. “We weren’t partners when ye left me sitting at the dinner table alone last night.”
Had he done all that? Aye, he had. Sighing, he shook his head at his mistake.
She pulled on the shift he’d stripped from her body this morning. “And when I came to yer study and offered ye my help, ye turned me away. If that is what a partner does, I’ll be taking my own room.”
Stomping through the dressing area, she pivoted and slammed the door to the adjoining room. The only other sound was the click of the lock as she shut him out.
…
Blair waited a good quarter of an hour after she heard Finlay leave the room before venturing back in to pick out a gown for the day. She went with the blue one she’d worn on the journey, the one in the worst condition with the torn hem and stains on the bottom from the grime of the road. Jenny and she were only going to be cleaning rooms this morning, and if time permitted, she would sneak into the cook’s vegetable garden to see what he had planted.
Before exiting the room, she peeked out. She was furious with her husband, and if she saw him again, she might say other things she would regret. As it was, she’d probably crossed a line. She hadn’t even thought about what had been bothering her until the words tumbled from her mouth.
She considered heading straight for the kitchen to break her fast there but decided that would be hiding, and she wouldn’t do that. Instead, she held her head high and proceeded into the breakfast room, pushing over to the sideboards and loading a plate. Inspecting the table, she was surprised to see Robbie was the only one in the room.
Thankful she wouldn’t have to face her husband, she floated over and eased into the chair on the opposite side of the table.
“Good morn.” Robbie spoke first.
“And to ye. How is yer room?” She took a bite of the eggs and sighed at how good they tasted after barely touching her meal yesterday.
“It’s quite comfortable.”
“Today is the day the priest arrives?”
“Aye.”
“Do ye have sins to confess that a priest in Scotland couldnae hear?” Och, that was rude of her. It was time to let go of last night’s resentments. But she hadn’t been able to grasp why he’d made the journey here and everything seemed so secretive.
Robbie’s finger flicked at the cross he wore beneath his shirt. “Sometimes I feel as if I’m cursed. It doesnae hurt to have blessings wherever I may find them.”
He’d found a way to evade her question. If he didn’t want to confess to her, he was going about it the right way.
Andrew placed a cup in front of her. “Your coffee, my lady.”
“Thank ye. Och. The cook was able to find some. Please tell him thank ye as well.”
“Yes, my lady.” He turned to go, and she picked up the cup, holding it to her nose, savoring the rich smell.
“Still, ye came all the way to England to seek out another priest?”
“Ah, that is something I must unfortunately keep to myself.” A glint of mischief lit his gaze, but also something that looked like sorrow.
She nodded. He didn�
�t have to share his secrets.
Jenny walked in just then. “My lady, I’m ready and will be waiting for you outside.”
“Yes, Jenny. I’ll be right there.” Taking another bite of the eggs, she turned back toward Robbie.
“I’m going to see what the chapel needs before he gets here. If ye want any other help, please let me know.” Pushing his chair back without making a sound, he rose and bowed his head toward her.
“Thank ye, but I believe we are starting to get things under control. Especially with all of ye Cameron men here to help.”
She was left alone again, finishing the eggs and enjoying her coffee for a few blessed moments of peace before the work began. When she emerged, Jenny was waiting outside, just as promised.
“I think we will start with the lady’s chamber today.” She’d peeled back the blankets last night and regretted climbing in with the dust, but she had needed space. Tonight, the room would be clean, and she would work on making it her own. Aye, she wanted to sleep with her husband, but she also had pride.
Strolling into her chamber, she smiled at the space she would have all to herself. The purple hues were pleasing and reminded her of the lavender fields she could see from the balcony off this room, too.
“Let’s start with the bedding. We can get it down to wash, and mayhap when the new maids arrive this afternoon, they can help ye finish.”
“Yes, my lady. I’m thrilled I’ll have a staff to work with.”
“Ye will be in charge. I am making ye the head housekeeper and increasing yer pay.” Once she got her hands on those ledgers.
“Will ye open the windows to bring in the fresh air? I’m going to see what’s in this trunk.”
Lifting the lid and expecting to see linens, she was surprised to find letters bundled up neatly in organized stacks. A few odd items stuck out, as well. A sprig of dried lavender, a red ribbon, and another small box. Picking up one of the letters, she read on the outside.
Dwight
From: Catriona
Her heart lurched. Och. Finlay’s father had saved all of the correspondences with her husband’s mother. This was private. She shouldn’t look.
“What did you find?” Jenny came up behind her, and she nearly flinched.
“Nae, ’tis nothing we need. Let’s move on to getting the curtains down so we can clean them as well.” Placing the letters back in the trunk, she shut it gently and stood to help the housekeeper.
After what felt like hours of cleaning, she found herself wandering through the poor excuse of a vegetable garden. The cook had kept up the herbs, but he was only one man. Frustrated, she strolled a bit farther into the fields of lavender and picked several bunches. These were a little bit past peak, but they would be good for drying and putting into sachets to keep in the guest rooms, hopefully keeping away the musty smell until all the leaks could be repaired. She and Jenny had found two more and Brodie was even now in the village getting the materials to do the work.
Heading back to the house, she swiped at the hair that had come unbound and tickled at her nose, unaware until she felt herself smear it on her cheek that she had dirt on her hand. Och, she would have to bathe before the dressmaker arrived. Would that give her time to make it to the midday meal?
Not wanting to trail dirt through the house, she slid out of her slippers as she entered through the kitchen door and spied Jenny having a bite to eat. “Jenny, could yer boys bring up some water for a bath?”
“Yes, my lady. I’ll put them to it straight away.”
“Thank ye.”
She almost dropped the lavender on the counter to come back for later but decided it would be nice in the tub, so she continued out into the hall, inspecting the bounty. Absently, she turned the corner into the main hall and took two steps before a sophisticated English accent reached her ears.
“Your servants are filthy, brother. You should be ashamed of how you care for the hired help.”
She gaped and turned to see what was wrong with Jenny, but there was no one there. The lout was referring to her. Her cheeks flushed, although she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger.
The man, who appeared to be the same age as Finlay, continued in a crude manner as his stare drifted from her face down the length of her body. “Although, I would not be adverse to taking her off your hands.”
“No, brother.” The second word was enunciated with unbridled fury. “This is my wife, Blair Cameron.”
“Blair, this is my father, Dwight Quinton, the Earl of Middlesbrough, and my oldest brother, his heir, Thomas Quinton.”
Chapter Nineteen
There were two things that stopped Finlay from pummeling his brother right then. First, there was the deep cherry red Blair had turned at Thomas’s insult. He held back only because he didn’t want to cause her any more distress. Hell, if this wasn’t his fault—he’d forgotten to tell her his family would be here early this afternoon.
Second, he was fighting the urge to scold her for going out on grounds without a guard. The more he thought about it, the less comfortable he felt with her roaming about when either Bruce or someone determined to stop him from reaching the king may have followed them. He’d pull her aside this afternoon and talk with her.
“Bloody hell,” his brother continued. “That chit married you?”
The you was said with such derision Finlay had to hold his breath and count to five before answering. “’Tis too hard to believe a bonny lass might want to marry me?” Blair was paralyzed; she studied the three of them.
Stepping forward, his father bowed, took Blair’s free hand, and brought it to his mouth to give her a small kiss. “I am pleased to meet you, Blair.”
Regaining her composure and putting on the breathtaking, self-assured smile that was only made more devastating by her disheveled appearance, she replied, “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, too.”
“Oh, Finlay, you’ve brought home a lovely Scottish lass.” The grin his father gave him was akin to the one he’d given him upon his completion of his studies at Oxford. “Why didn’t you let me know?”
“I didnae have time. I planned to tell ye today, however, I neglected to inform her ye would be arriving so soon. ’Tis my carelessness that leaves her unprepared to greet ye.”
“Nonsense. This is the perfect greeting. Welcome to the family, Blair.” Thank heaven his father had decency.
“Thank ye. If I could have just a few moments, I’ll clean myself up and meet ye for the midday meal. I smelled something wonderful when I passed through the kitchens just now.”
His brother wheedled his way in and took the hand the earl had just released. His head dipped, and he placed a kiss on her hand then held it too long while gazing into her eyes. “Do accept my apologies. There is no excuse for my behavior.”
What? Thomas actually seemed remorseful for something he’d done.
“I believe, sir, that ye may owe an apology to my husband and all his servants as well.” Blair held her head high, facing his brother with no fear. She was becoming the mistress of the house, just as she had been back on Macnab lands, and Finlay had never been prouder she’d chosen him. Well, she’d been blackmailed into choosing him, she hadn’t really wanted him, but she was here. And she was taking charge.
“If you wish, I will get down on my knees and beg.”
Once he finally released her hand, she backed a step but gave him a tilt of her chin that indicated she’d already forgiven him.
“I promise, just a few moments and I’ll make sure the cook has everything ready.” She glanced to his father, ignoring Finlay. She couldn’t still be angry, could she? Nodding to the earl, she swept by them without giving him a second glance, then ascended the steps, his brother and father gawking as she disappeared.
“We can talk in the study.” His father gestured, knowing the way better than he did.
When the door thudded shut behind them, Finlay pivoted and planted his fist squarely on Thomas’s jaw. His brother fell back,
letting his hand come up to inspect the sight of the shot. He dropped it, straightened, and said, “I deserved that.”
“Dinnae even think of touching my wife.” His breath came in short bursts.
Raising hands palm up, Thomas backed as Finlay continued, “She is the one thing that belongs to me ye cannae have.”
“Do you think I would try to steal your wife?”
He wouldn’t put it past the arse who had tried to sabotage his life from the moment he understood what a bastard was.
“Enough,” his father chided in the imperious tone of the Earl of Middlesbrough. Moving farther into the room, the earl motioned for him to take the seat behind the desk, which didn’t feel quite right in the man’s presence. Finlay moved in that direction as his father moved over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a decanter and three glasses. “Sit,” the earl ordered.
His brother and he obeyed as their father poured a generous dram of whisky, handed it to them, then returned to dispense another for himself. No one spoke until the earl took the seat next to Thomas.
“So what is this urgent news that Charles needs to know?” his father asked.
“The Kirk is about to accept the Solemn League and Covenant.”
“Why does it matter if the Scottish Parliament wishes to ensure their reformed religion is made law?” his brother asked.
“Because the English Parliament has agreed to back them if Scottish troops are sent to help defeat the king.”
“Are you certain this is imminent?” His father closed his eyes, shaking his head.
“Aye, ’tis on their docket for the seventeenth of August.”
“That gives us a little time to prepare.”
“It hasn’t been approved yet, but it has already been circulated around some of the clans who have agreed to sign and pledge men. They will be prepared sooner than expected.”
Highland Salvation (Highland Pride) Page 16
