She quirked an austere brow in amused reproof. “I’m supposed to believe a Highland rake is redeemable?”
“I haven’t touched another woman since I kissed ye on the terrace.”
“Almost a month?” Head canted, her arms folded across her chest, she elevated a finger toward him. “My, your restraint is admirable. Have you ever abstained that long before?”
Aye, but he wasn’t discussing his previous associations with her.
A spark of mischief glinted in her eyes. That was another thing he adored about her. Her sense of humor and that she didn’t sulk or pout.
“I find when it comes to ye, Arieen Fleming, I am capable of a great many thin’s that astound me.”
And confused the hell out of him as well.
Something shone in her eyes before she averted her gaze. “I might say the same of you.”
Now wasn’t the time to explore exactly what she meant. But later, he’d coax the truth from her. He suspected at least a portion of her reluctance was born from resentment that her future was being decided for her again.
Giving her an encouraging smile, he crooked a finger and placed it beneath her chin. “I shall try my best to make ye happy, lass.”
“I believe you, Coburn.” Her gaze trailed over his face, an unwilling caress, he’d vow.
Her words gave him confidence.
Theirs might not be a love match, but they could, in time and with effort, be content. He was convinced of it.
“Ye haven’t given me an answer, Arieen. Will ye marry me and let me try to make amends?”
She gazed out the windows, her expression vulnerable and a trifle lost. As she was wont to do when thoughtful or anxious, she trapped the corner of her lower lip between her teeth.
He ached to taste her mouth again, to show her how wondrous passion could be, but she needed time to accept this new blow.
She swallowed perceptibly before meeting his gaze square on. “Aye, Coburn. I’ll marry ye.”
Unforeseen happiness blared a triumphant fanfare in his blood, but he restrained the urge to sweep her into his arms once more. This wasn’t a joyful occasion for her.
“I saw Logan’s horse in the stables earlier,” he said. “Shall we go below and tell him our decision?”
He wasn’t sure Logan would welcome the announcement, even if he could be made to understand it was for the best.
Arieen touched her hair. “As soon as I’ve made myself presentable.”
“Of course.” Coburn crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder against one of the bed’s four posts.
Standing before the oval looking glass attached to the dressing table, she made quick work of repinning the errant strands.
He felt positively domesticated while watching her perform the simple act. Something a wife might do in front of her husband. What other things might a lass do before her spouse?
Undress? Bathe? His blood quickened at the thought.
Aye, he’d have no trouble with the more intimate areas of wedlock.
“I would have your word on one thing first, Coburn.” She met his gaze in the reflection.
He canted his head. “What might that be?”
“Ours is a marriage in name only.” She shoved a pin into the knot at the back of her head. “We’ll have a marriage of convenience. Nothing more.”
Och, I dinna think so. Unfolding his arms, he chuckled and advanced toward her. “Leannan, I dinna think ye ken what yer askin’ me. I’ve wanted ye with a raw, burnin’ hunger since I saw ye enter the ballroom. Ye’ve captured me in yer web, and I cannae see anyway of escapin.”
“Coburn...” She raised a palm as if to ward him off.
He locked his gaze onto her wide, wary eyes, wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest, and nuzzled her neck. “Ye feel somethin’ for me too, I ken it.”
Her sharp intake of breath as her lashes fluttered closed told him everything he needed to know.
“Nay, I cannae agree to yer request,” he said. “But I vow, I’ll wait until ye come to me.”
Slowly, the thick fringe of her lashes lifted. “Och, ye braw, conceited mon. Ye’ll be waitin’ a verra, verra long time.”
Bursting into laughter, he squeezed her waist. “We’ll see, my bonnie lass. Let’s tell Logan and decide what day next week we’re to wed.”
Jaw slack, she spun around, and spluttered, “Next week?”
For the umpteenth time since Coburn had departed three mornings ago, Arieen glanced to the study’s windows.
Would he return today? She’d expected him yesterday. They were supposed to wed in four days.
It mystified her how much she missed him, hearing his bark of laughter and his rumbling brogue, or smiling at him in passing. She missed their conversations over dinner, and his rakish winks and cocky waves. In fact, if anyone had told her she’d ache from the longing to see him once more, she’d have said they were numpty. But she did.
Aye, I do.
She blinked away the tears blurring her view of the ledger.
Over and over she’d contemplated alternatives to marrying him, and no matter how creative she believed she was, it all came down to feasibility. Nothing else was. Wedding Coburn was the logical choice, all the way around.
As she’d ruminated, a more poignant truth, one she couldn’t argue against, became clear.
She didn’t oppose the union—not anymore. The opposite was true. She couldn’t imagine a life with anyone else. But being compelled to do so, having the choice taken from her—by Odin, she found that irksome.
At night, her mind replayed his promise to make her happy. His vow to be faithful. His profession that he wanted to marry her and no other.
He’d ignited a miniscule spark of hope that he meant it.
A wry smile skewing her mouth, she shook her head at her musing. Confound the dashing Scottish swashbuckler. What had he done to her?
A soft knock preceded Miss Findlay sticking her blonde head into the study. She fairly floated into the room, her happiness evident in her radiant smile and glowing face. “I thought I’d find ye here, Arieen. Logan says ye work too hard.”
Mayra and Logan’s love was a wondrous thing to behold. It lifted Arieen from her doldrums.
“I hoped ye might have time this afternoon to help me decide the menu for the wedding feast.” Mayra poked around Logan’s desk, as a woman curious about her intended was inclined to do. “My brothers are off exploring.”
She glanced upward and grinned. “Probably getting into mischief. And Mum and our lady’s maid are having a lie-down.”
“Of course. I’d be happy to help. Your timing is perfect. I’ve finished today’s entries.” Arieen removed her spectacles and stood. Arms extended overhead, she stretched, stifling a yawn.
Coburn better return soon so she could sleep at night, or she’d be stumbling around in a drowsy fog.
Mayra eyed the ornate ceiling. “Lockelieth has a rustic charm, disna it?”
“Indeed. I’ve marveled at the detailed workmanship many times.” Lockelieth possessed dozens of rooms and corridors Arieen longed to explore, but hadn’t the audacity to do so without permission.
Mayra looped her arm through Arieen’s elbow as they exited the study. “I cannae tell ye how happy I am another young woman will live here. I dinna have a sister, and since Logan and Coburn are like brothers, I hope we’ll be like sisters too.”
Moisture pooled in Arieen’s eyes. She’d fretted Mayra wouldn’t like her or would resent her presence. “I’d like that very much. I haven’t brothers or sisters.”
At least none that she knew of.
Each day Arieen continued to hope there’d be a post from Morag or Robert about their bairn. She desperately wanted to know how the child was.
“I’ve asked Mrs. Granger to have Cook put on the kettle and bring us tea in the maroon salon.” Mayra dimpled, her light blue eyes sparkling. “I’ve found wedding planning gives me a robust appetite. I might’ve requested see
d cake, Scotch eggs, and shortbread too.”
Mayra’s humor was contagious, and Arieen giggled. “I’ve never tasted better shortbread, have you?”
“Nae, and yesterday when I asked for the recipe, Mrs. McIntyre just smiled and winked.” The slightest pout turned Mayra’s mouth down. “She wouldn’t give it to me when I suggested I should probably have it as the new mistress.”
“You didn’t.” Arieen giggled, a hand over her mouth. “That was badly done of you.”
Mayra chuckled as they turned a corner down another passageway. “It was worth a try. I’ll have to keep Mrs. McIntyre content if I ever hope to acquire her recipe.”
Once they’d settled in the salon, Arieen studied the room. From its heavy claret-colored draperies—years out of date—to its matching shabby chairs and sofas, the chamber had once been a grand place meant to impress guests.
Though spotlessly clean, time and neglect had taken a toll. A dark, ornate mantel encased an impressive fireplace, where a toasty fire crackled. A single threadbare rug covered the floor between the sofas, atop which sat a baroque walnut tea table.
She hadn’t spent time in here. Her position didn’t warrant it, and Logan hadn’t entertained since she arrived.
Arieen curved her mouth in welcome as Brewster entered with their tea.
Oh, black bun too. Normally, the fruit cake wrapped in pastry was only served for special occasions. Mrs. McIntyre’s way of making recompense for denying Mayra her famed shortbread recipe?
After placing the tray on the table, the butler faced Mayra. “Will there be anythin’ else, Miss Findlay?”
“Nae, thank ye.” She lifted the teapot, about to pour Arieen’s cup when she paused. “Oh, wait, Brewster. Please express my gratitude to Mrs. McIntyre for the lovely tea setting.”
He dipped his head. “Verra good.”
She waited until he’d gone before whispering, “Do ye think that was a wee bit too much?”
“I don’t, honestly. I believe servants are taken for granted far too often.” Arieen selected a sliver of black bun. “Do you expect many guests for the wedding, Mayra?”
“Nae. Logan and I want to keep the affair intimate. Lockelieth isnae in a state to receive a large number of guests either.” Mayra leaned back and fiddled with a pillow. “Did ye ken we were betrothed as children? He was six years old, and I was an infant.”
Arieen stopped stirring her tea. “Truly? I had no idea. Was that difficult for you or did you always love him?”
“Och, nae I didna love him.” Mayra’s mouth tipped into a private smile. “I tried for years to get out of the contract. I only saw him once as a child and the next time we met, he pretended to be Coburn.”
“He didn’t!” Arieen found herself leaning forward, hanging on every word.
“He did indeed. Although I believed he was someone else, I kent there was something special about Logan. He was constantly in my thoughts. When I wasn’t with him, I missed him so fiercely, it hurt. And when I saw him, my pulse did all sorts of daffy things, and my stomach felt peely-wally.”
Pressing a hand to her tummy Arieen repeated in her mind what Mayra said.
That is love?
Expression dreamy, Mayra stared into space. “I may have fallen in love with him when I tumbled off the dog cart, and he caught me. I kent for certain I loved him within a fortnight.”
Jaw slack, Arieen gawked.
Mayra had described her symptoms. Right down to the waffy tummy business. Was it possible? Could she be in love with Coburn? Had it all begun with their magical kiss at the ball? A thrill tunneled through her.
“Ye and Coburn fell in love quickly too, didn’t ye?” Mayra asked.
How was Arieen supposed to answer? Until this moment, she believed she was marrying Coburn purely to protect Logan and Mayra. She’d stumbled upon a precious secret and wanted to savor the epiphany, to cherish the novelty before she discussed it with anyone.
Straightening, Mayra gathered her writing utensils. She didn’t seem to notice Arieen hadn’t responded. “I feel sorry for people who never experience what we have.”
“Aye. ’Tis verra special,” Arieen agreed.
Mayra bit into a biscuit as she arranged her foolscap and quill. She dipped the quill, and a single groove wrinkling her forehead, glanced up.
“Now, what do ye want for yer first course, Arieen?”
Arieen gathered her scattered wits. “But...I thought this was for your wedding. Coburn and I planned on a small ceremony with no folderol afterward.”
Actually, they hadn’t discussed the after part, merely the quiet joining before a cleric with Logan and Mayra as witnesses.
“Why ever would ye think that? Ye and Coburn are marrying first.”
Mayra appeared quite taken aback, and Arieen rushed to apologize.
“Forgive me, Mayra. I assumed we were discussing your feast. Coburn and I have no plans for a celebration.”
“Of course ye must celebrate. Actually, what we should do—what would be brilliant—is to have a double wedding.” A spark ignited in Mayra’s eyes, and she clapped her hands. “Aye, Arieen, we really should. How perfect would that be? It’d be much less work for the staff too. I cannot think of anything I’d like more. Please say ye will.”
Lowering her gaze to hide the rush of grateful tears, Arieen struggled to control her emotions. Mayra’s generosity overwhelmed her. “You would share your special day? We’re practically strangers.”
Besides, theirs would be a real, loving marriage. I wish I were marrying for love too. The thought hammered her heart, and she raised her hand to her chest.
Mayra took Arieen’s hand between hers. “Aye, but I kent from the first moment we were destined to be friends. How could we not? We both love those rapscallions.”
Fingering her gown, Arieen knitted her brows at the new stain above her left knee. “I haven’t anything special to wear.”
Mayra made a shooing motion with her hand as she eyed her.
“We’re about the same height and build. I’m sure I have something that would fit ye. Besides, our braw men, willna care what we’re wearing.” She wiggled her eyebrows naughtily. “They’ll only be thinking of taking off our gowns.” Mayra gave a sage nod and took another bite.
Arieen couldn’t help it, she laughed. Mayra was a delight. No wonder Logan adored her.
Strident voices in the corridor drew Arieen’s attention. Was that Coburn? He was back? Her newfound love made her belly quiver in blissful anticipation.
Until he strode in, the edges of his face all harsh planes and angles.
The anticipation frolicking in her middle turned to apprehension. “Coburn?” What on earth had put the thunder in his face and starch in his posture? He’d only just arrived home.
On his heels, Robert Fleming toddled in, answering her question.
Oh, Guid. She slowly put her teacup down. Breath trapped in her lungs and swathed in dread and a cold sweat, she rose. Heart beating a jagged rhythm, she clasped her hands before her, squeezing her fingers to stop their shaking.
Had the bairn died, and he was here to exact more revenge?
She sent Coburn a silent entreaty for help.
“Dinna fash yerself, lass.” His calm assurance washed over her. “Trust me.”
She did.
Logan plowed into the parlor, his countenance only slightly less stormy than Coburn’s. Clearly disgruntled, he sliced Robert a steely look. “Mayra, Mr. Flemin’ requires a word with Arieen.”
Arieen didn’t miss the fact he hadn’t asked Coburn to leave.
Curious.
Logan extended his arm, but Arieen shook her head and reached for Mayra’s hand. “No, please. I’d like her to stay, my lord. You and Coburn as well.” She’d rather they were here for whatever bad news Robert was about to announce. She needed their support now more than ever.
Coburn’s features softened and the force of his half-smile touched her from across the room, sending a tingle of sensation s
kittering down her spine.
An astute woman, Mayra stepped near and wrapped an arm around Arieen’s waist.
Logan and Coburn traded an approving glance.
Robert shuffled his feet and tugged at his collar. “I’d prefer a private audience, Arieen.”
Shoulders squared, she angled her chin. “And I’d prefer my friends are present. Those who took me in when you cast me out.”
She drew a bracing breath and squared her shoulders, ready for any news he might bring.
Robert offered a nervous tick of a smile, his attention flitting from person to person before resting on her once more. He clawed at his neck again.
She’d never seen him this discomposed, except for the night Morag went into premature labor.
“’Tis glad I am to see ye in bonnie health, lass.”
Lass? Brow knitted, she pulled her mouth into a thin line. What went on here?
He behavior was almost...contrite. Or wily.
She relaxed the tiniest bit, but ire promptly took anxiety’s place. “My health is due to Laird Rutherford’s benevolence. If it hadn’t been for him, I don’t know what would have become of me, since you made no effort to contact me for a month.”
That wasn’t true.
She and Coburn would’ve wed already, but out of necessity, not by choice.
As awful as the past weeks had been, she was in a position to marry him for love. If he felt the same toward her, the hardship would have been worth it. From the warm regard glowing in his eyes, he might very well have tender feelings for her.
“I kent ye were here and well cared for.” Robert’s voice took on the slightest belligerent tone.
“And that made it all right?” She took a calming breath. What was done was done. “Why are you here? What do you want?”
If the bairn had died, he’d have told her by now.
Robert puffed out his chest, looking every bit the proud da. “I have twin sons. Braw, healthy laddies. Samuel and Seamus.”
He grasped his lapels and rocked back on his heels.
Twins. That explained Morag’s enormous belly.
“Congratulations. I’m truly happy for you and Morag.” And she was. Enormously relieved as well. “Perhaps someday, you’ll bring them for a visit.”
To Redeem a Highland Rake: A Historical Scottish Romance (Heart of a Scot Book 2) Page 11
