by Meara Platt
She sounded so worried.
“Dinna fash, lass. It will all work out.” But Cheyne was ashamed to admit he was to blame for causing this situation. His brother had been afraid to return home, afraid to tell him of his marriage and the child. Could Jenny have done anything differently? She’d had no choice but to deceive him.
His pride and intolerance were to blame.
“I hope one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, Lyon. I had hoped to remain here to help you raise Johnny, but I understand why you won’t let me.”
“Jenny–”
“I expected this day would come. But I’m not afraid of it as I once was because I know Johnny will always be safe in your care. He’ll grow up fine and strong and valiant, just like his uncle.”
Her words were like a lance through his heart. He did not deserve her blessing. He did not deserve her kindness. “And you, lass? Where would ye go?”
She cast him another hesitant smile. “I don’t know. Do you think Matthew and Lucas would take me back to Edinburgh with them? I’ll have my books with me. Perhaps someone at the University of Edinburgh can tell me what they’re worth. The curator at Oxford merely thanked me for the loan of them. My father’s solicitor never mentioned anything about their having monetary value. I don’t think he ever realized their worth, because my father never told him.”
She paused a moment to shake her head and smile. “My father loved his books so much. Not for the price they’d fetch, but for the wonder of them. I think this is why he gave them to me specifically and did not have them pass under my uncle’s guardianship with his other assets. They are the best records we have of the past. I’m not sure I could ever part with them, even if they are worth a king’s ransom. My father knew this. But I will have to do something in order to support myself. It would help to know their value. Not to sell them, but surely there must be something I can do to protect them and support myself. Lucas handles matters of finance. Do you–”
“Jenny, stop.” He raked a hand through his hair again. “I’ll help ye with these books. Ye dinna need to turn to my brothers. How can ye think I’d ever abandon ye?”
She appeared genuinely surprised. “I lied to you.”
He took her gently by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Will ye lie to me ever again?”
Her eyes were wide and hopeful. “No, Lyon. Not ever again. Not even a harmless, well-intentioned fib meant to spare your feelings. I shall always tell you the truth, whether you wish to hear it or not.”
He laughed and drew her closer. “Jenny, do ye love me?”
She blushed and tried to stare down at her toes, but he cupped her chin and raised her gaze to his. “Do ye love me?”
“Of course, I do. You captured my heart the day I first met you. You’re magnificent. But you must know it. How can any girl resist–”
He cut her off with a hungry kiss, forgetting his every intention to be gentle. He was a ravenous beast, unable to satisfy his craving for Jenny. My Jenny. Mine. My Oxford selkie with big, green eyes. I want to love and hold ye to the end of my days.
He crushed his lips to hers, and as the innocently tight purse of her lips eased, he dipped his tongue along the seam of her sweet, perfect mouth. It wasn’t enough. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up against him so that their bodies were pressed together, her softness bound to him and easing the hard ache of his too proud heart. “Tell me again, Jenny. Do ye love me?”
“Yes, Lyon. I love you.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back with equal ardor, her lips still tightly pursed, but plump and sweet as they pressed against his own.
He enjoyed her kisses. Her open sincerity affected him as no other woman’s kisses had ever done before. She touched him with the earnestness of her pleasure. She knew little about kissing, this was obvious.
He would teach her, starting today.
However, she knew a lot about love. Not making love...he hoped to teach her that as well, starting tonight. Lord help him, he’d burst if he was forced to wait another day to claim her. But Jenny understood about a different sort of love, the pure sort that bound families together. He hoped she would teach him, for he’d almost destroyed his own family out of misplaced pride.
He had so much to learn, and no one to blame but himself for remaining blind to Davina’s treacherous nature. He’d ignored the warning signs, thinking to please his parents as they neared the end of their days. He’d turned a blind eye to her petty and malicious nature.
John had braved everything to rescue him. And what had he done? Cast fault on his brother. Blamed him for the betrayal when he had been the one to betray his brother’s sacrifice and trust.
If not for Jenny, he might never have realized his mistake. He stared down at the girl whose eyes were still shut as she absorbed his kiss. “Jenny, lass. Will ye marry me?”
Her eyes shot open and her mouth rounded in an ‘O’ of surprise. “What?”
“Ye heard me, lass. Will ye marry me?”
He kissed her again and she returned the kiss with sweet, innocent fervor. “Do you love me, Lyon?”
“Aye, Jenny. I do.”
“Are you certain?”
He smiled and kissed her lightly on the nose. “Never been more certain of anything in my life. I knew I wanted ye the moment ye washed up at my front door. Ye were my selkie. I dreamed of ye, dreams I canno’ tell ye about. They aren’t fitting for yer innocent ears.”
“It isn’t about my books then?”
He sighed. “No, lass. The books are yours to do with as ye please. Ye’re all I want. Why do ye think I took that trip to Edinburgh? It had nothing to do with business. I ached so badly to hold ye in my arms, to kiss ye and touch ye. I needed to get away from here before I disgraced the family name.”
She cast him an impertinent grin. “You did?”
“Aye, lass,” he said, returning her grin with an affectionate smile. “I could no’ be near ye and not burn with desire. So, what do ye say? Will ye be mine?”
“I can be no one else’s.”
He nodded. “Let’s finish with yer uncle and Lord Finster, then get back to the celebrations. I have a parade to lead in a few hours...and a wedding to attend before the week is out, that is...if ye’re sure ye’ll have me.”
She hugged him fiercely. “I cannot think of a better way to end these Pagan Moon festivities than with a wedding. Yes, I’ll have you. I love you, Lyon. You are mad for wanting to marry a professor’s daughter. The scandal will rock Society.”
“Forget yer English ton. Ye’re in Scotland now. We follow our hearts, no’ stupid rules made up by bored patronesses.”
“Are you certain?”
“Aye, I’ll have no other lass but you.”
“If you’re certain, then...” She sighed. “Thank you for loving me. I’d be so proud to be your wife.”
“Och, lass. Dinna thank me. The pleasure is all mine.” He said no more as he took her in his arms and kissed her as only a Highlander could, with a passion as raw and untamed as the Scottish mountains, but also as true and enduring.
He kissed her with the gentle promise to love her forever faithfully.
Chapter Twelve
Jenny sat quietly in the corner of Lyon’s study while he paced back and forth, questioning her Uncle Arden and his troll of an accomplice, Lord Finster. Lyon’s brothers stood beside her, flanking her like a pair of protective, uncaged lions. They now knew the truth about her identity and Lyon had told them how he felt about her.
“I love her,” he’d said simply.
Ever since then, they would not stop grinning at her.
Lyon’s attention was on the two men who were quaking before him. “Tell me about the books.” He had not permitted either of them to sit, and was scowling so fiercely, they were terrified of what he planned to do to them.
Jenny wondered if there was a dungeon in the bowels of the castle.
“My niece is not yet of age. Whatever she owns is
mine to control,” her uncle blustered.
“But ye dinna control the books. Only her husband can do that. Is this why ye dragged Lord Finster into yer scheme? What deal have ye struck with him?” But before he listened to the answer, Lyon folded his arms across his chest and addressed Jenny. “How old are ye, lass?”
“Twenty, Your Grace. I’ll come of age next April.”
Her uncle cast him a smug grin. “You see, she’s under my guardianship. You–”
“I don’t give a damn about yer Sassenach rules. Ye’re in Scotland now. On Mar property. My property. My rules. Answer my question or ye’ll never see the light of day.”
“You can’t confine us!” Lord Finster protested.
Lyon arched a dark eyebrow. “Who’s to stop me? Tell me about the books.”
As Lord Finster realized he had no bargaining power, he ran a hand nervously along his collar. “We’re only interested in the two she brought up here with her. They’re old Carolingian manuscripts personally commissioned by Emperor Charlemagne. The others are of no significant value.”
Lucas snorted. “Greedy sods. Ye meant to steal them from our Jenny and sell them off to enrich yerselves.”
Lord Finster shrugged. “I would have shared some of the profit with her. I’m a reasonable man. Indeed, I have a proposition for you, Your Grace. I’ll release Miss Bramwell from our betrothal in exchange for reimbursement of my travel expenses and perhaps a little reward for delivering her to you. What do you say?”
Lyon appeared ready to choke him again. “Here’s my proposition to ye. Rip up that betrothal contract and get yer skinny English arse out of Scotland before I hunt ye down, cut off yer bollocks and have my cook roast them up for the pigs to eat.” He turned to her uncle. “If ye come near Jenny again, I’ll do the same to ye.”
He called for Brogan and several footmen. “Escort them to the edge of my property. If ye ever see them on Mar land again, ye have my permission to shoot them on sight.”
As soon as her uncle and Lord Finster were hauled out, Lyon turned to her. “I canno’ do more than put the fear o’ the devil into them, lass. Yer uncle is yer legal guardian and despite my bluster, he has legal rights in Scotland.”
She nodded. “I understand. I’m glad to see them go. I’ve never seen two men look so frightened. Well done, Your Grace.”
He came to her side. “Jenny, do ye believe it is only these two books that have value?”
She nodded. “Yes. The Bodleian curator often came to look through my father’s collection. Only these two manuscripts ever interested him. I thought they only had scholarly value. I never expected them to have significant monetary value. I can show them to you now, if you like.”
He glanced at his brothers. “Later, lass. We have a parade to lead. Are ye feeling better? Do ye think ye’d like to join us?”
She cast him a beaming smile. “I’m about to marry a very forgiving duke who loves me. I feel perfect. I wouldn’t miss your parade for the world.”
Within the hour they were in Stonehaven. Lyon and his brothers were clad their clan tartans and looked quite splendid, like Highland warriors marching out of the mists. Jenny was worried about how the villagers would respond when learning she’d lied to them about her identity. But she quickly saw that Scots were a pragmatic lot. They seemed to accept her with very little fuss. “Ye’ll still be Miss Jenny to us,” Mrs. MacAyre remarked, “until ye marry the duke. Then I suppose ye’ll be our Duchess Jenny.”
“Thank you, Mrs. MacAyre.” But she made a point to apologize to all of them for hiding her true identity.
Only Davina seemed unwilling to let it go, smiling as she spoke to her with sophisticated venom. “He won’t marry ye. He’ll never love ye. Ye lied to him and he’ll never forgive ye for it. He’ll come to yer bed tonight and bury himself inside ye, all the while murmuring sweet words of love and pretending he’ll take ye to the altar. But all he plans to do is ruin ye. Are ye too blind to see it?”
Jenny thought it was remarkable how little Davina understood Lyon. She had known him all her life and yet did not appear to see the honor and loyalty that shaped his character. “I must thank you, Your Grace,” she said, returning the woman’s insincere smile with a pitying one of her own. Davina was a widowed duchess, for the moment above Jenny’s station. However, they would be equals in rank by the end of the Pagan Moon celebrations. “You could have had him. He would have been a faithful and protective husband. He would have respected you and done his best to make you happy. But you are too filled with bile to understand this. So I thank you for not accepting the gift he offered you.”
Davina tossed back her head. “Hah! What gift was that?”
“The gift of his heart.” She turned to Mairi who was holding Johnny and took him back in her arms. “The parade is about to start. Where’s the best place to stand, Mairi?”
They walked away from an indignant Davina and made their way to the harbor where the High Street began. Lyon and his brothers were gathered by the docks along with the bagpipers and village men. They looked quite impressive in their traditional garb, the kilt, sporran, and the sgian dubh, the small dagger carried by each man. She supposed it had at one time been used for eating as well as for protection.
Lyon looked incredible, his white shirt displaying his broad, muscled shoulders. He was tall and powerful, and swaggered with ducal grace and pride. She knew he was happy now that he had Matthew and Lucas with him. Jenny hoped that all four brothers would be here for next year’s Pagan Moon festivities.
Johnny was wide-eyed and soaking in all the noise and activity. The boy cheered along with her as Lyon and his brothers marched by, followed by the bagpipers and drummers. The village men marched behind.
By the time the parade was over, Johnny had fallen asleep in her arms. The bagpipers were still playing and the distinct, keening wail of the pipes could be heard throughout the village. The instruments could have blared in the boy’s ear and he would not have flinched.
Lyon laughed as he came upon them. “Ah, the sleep of the innocent. Mairi, go enjoy yerself. I’ll take Jenny and the lad with me.”
She thought they were going to walk back to the castle, but he led her to the vicarage instead. Matthew and Lucas were waiting for them by the stone wall surrounding the rectory. They entered through the gate and saw the vicar smiling at them by the front door. “What are we doing here, Lyon?” she asked.
He handed Johnny to Lucas and motioned for them to walk inside with the vicar while he remained outside with Jenny. “Getting married now, if ye don’t mind. I love ye, Jenny. But I dare not wait another day to give ye the protection of my name and rank. Also, my brothers are here and it would mean a lot to me to have them as my witnesses. I wish John was with us, but we’ll celebrate with him at Christmastide, assuming he returns. This is why I wanted the bairn with us, even though he’s soundly napping and will likely sleep through the entire ceremony. Not that it matters. He’s a wee lad and won’t understand what we’re doing even if he wakes. Still, I’d like him to stand in for his father. This is important to me.”
She didn’t know what to say. His words melted her heart.
“I know I’m rushing ye, lass. If ye prefer to wait, we shall. But I’m keen to hold ye in my arms and have ye share my bed with the respect ye deserve...as my wife.”
Yes, she could think of nothing nicer and blushed in response to his knowing grin. “Don’t we need a special license?”
“No, lass. Ye’re in Scotland now. We dinna have the same restrictions. Have ye no’ heard of Gretna Green? Why do ye think the young English couples head there when they wish to elope? We also allow handfasting.”
“What is that?”
He caressed her cheek. “When two people declare their love for each other and desire to marry. The couple has a year to choose to make it permanent. If they wish to do so, they consummate the union. In Scotland it is a valid marriage. I dinna need a year to decide, lass. Nor do I need another week or day or ev
en an hour. I know I want ye now and forever.”
“Won’t the villagers be disappointed?”
“We’ll throw a grand wedding breakfast to end the Pagan Moon festival. That’ll more than satisfy them. What do ye say, lass?”
Jenny’s head was spinning.
This big, handsome man had declared he loved her and wanted to marry her this very hour. “I’d be honored to marry you, Lyon.”
She nibbled her lip and looked up at him questioningly. “I know as duke and duchess we must maintain separate quarters...but would you consider sharing my bed beyond tonight?”
“Och, Jenny. Who told ye that nonsense about separate quarters? We dinna follow Sassenach rules here. Aye, we’ll share a bed. Every night for the rest of our lives.”
As night fell and the full moon shone like a silver jewel over the dark sea, Cheyne took Jenny by the hand and led her to his bedchamber. “There’s something we need to do.”
Jenny nodded. “Oh, my books. I’ll show them to you now.”
He laughed, for his body was aching with lust and reading was the last thing on his mind. “No, lass. The books can wait until morning. Brogan placed them in my safe for now. They’ll be protected from the elements until ye decide what ye wish to do with them.” He bent his head to kiss her. “I love ye, my Jenny.”
“I love you, too...my husband. What is it we must do?” she asked, her smile revealing she knew exactly what he had in mind. “Something quite pagan?”
“Aye, lass.” He drew her into his arms and bent to kiss her on the mouth, a soft, lingering kiss that held promise of things to come. He drew away a moment to remove the pins from her hair and watch the strands of golden silk tumble down her back. He smiled as the ends curled about her waist and hips.
Her hair appeared almost silvery by moonlight and her big, green eyes shone with love for him. Aye, she resembled a magical selkie swept to shore from the glittering sea. The window was open and he could hear the gentle lapping of waves upon the distant shore. This is all he heard, the rushing waves and the steady beat of his heart.