by Quinn, Paula
Peigi pushed herself up and accepted the tea, noting his natural thoughtfulness. He offered her a biscuit. Chewing the crumbly shortbread, a sigh escaped. “Sugar. These were made with sugar. It’s been so long.” She took another bite and closed her eyes as she enjoyed the sweet goodness, letting part of the biscuit dissolve in her mouth before taking another sip of tea.
When she opened her eyes, he was watching her, a slight smile on his face. Sweet Mary, he was a fine-looking man with that dark hair pushed back from his forehead and curling around his neck. He had removed the leather thong so it was no longer tied back. The silence stretched as she struggled for subjects to talk about. He continued his perusal of her face before lowering his gaze to her chest, hidden by the thin shift tied securely at her neck.
Peigi had no idea what to say to this man. Her mind was as sharp as week-old porridge. Should she thank him for carrying her up the stairs? He’d swooped her into his arms as if she’d weighed no more than a bairn. Or should she reprimand him for kissing her? Nay, she’d enjoyed that, though embarrassment stained her cheeks, thinking about his lips on hers. He had come to see her. Perhaps he should start the conversation.
“I’ve had a talk with Malachi and learned more of yer circumstances.”
Perhaps not. The smile fell away along with her enjoyment of his company. What had her father said this time?
“Ye should ken I’ve agreed to marry ye. I hope ye will be a willing bride.” He studied her with narrowed eyes, making her squirm. “We are attracted to each other, which is a grand start. We are of like minds, I believe, when it comes to family. Ye are lovely, and educated, and all that I would ask for in a mate.”
“Except love.” It came out as a whisper. Why was her mind dwelling on this fact? She liked him. He was a man she could respect. The option between Calum’s proposal and Lord Fulton’s proposition should be no choice at all.
He gently took the cup from her hand and set it on the tray. The soft mattress sagged under his weight as he sat next to her and took both her hands in his. She flinched as his fingers ran over the callused palms, no longer the soft, smooth skin of a lady but rough from doing a servant’s work. As if reading her mind, he turned her hands and kissed each palm. A surge of pleasure and something else fluttered through her core.
“Love will come in time, Peigi, I have no doubt.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Then, as if he could not help himself, he brushed her lips with his. The faint sweet smell of aged oak clung to his mouth. The men had been drinking good scotch.
He smiled. “Get some rest, and we’ll talk more in the morning.”
*
“What did she say?” Angus piled eggs and rasher on his plate from the sideboard. “And what the devil were ye doing talking to her while she was in bed? God’s bones, boy, ye’re making certain the wedding will take place.”
“She canna walk, so if I want to speak with her I have to go to her rooms.” Calum gave Malachi an apologetic look. “Enid was in the room with us. It was all proper.” That time.
“So she said yes?” her father asked, waving away the worry of impropriety. “She’s a good girl.”
“Weel, no’ exactly. But she dinna say no.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I canna imagine why she wouldna agree. What other choice does she have?”
“Another MacNaughton?” chimed in Finley. “I might make the sacrifice and marry the lass. Do ye think she’d like America?”
Malachi shook his head. “She wouldna go so far from her clan. The offer has been made before.”
“She’s had other offers of marriage?” Why had Calum thought she hadn’t? It was the innocence of that kiss, her inexperience. The tightness in his chest increased when he thought of another man holding her hand, stopping along a wooded path, and stealing a kiss.
“Aye, before most of the clan left. The single men emigrated to Canada or America or to the cities if they had a skill. She wouldna leave the Highlands. The only males left are either relatives, married, old, or children. Not much selection for a pretty young lass like Peigi.”
“Was she ever partial to any one suitor?” That had slipped off his tongue before he could stop it.
“There was one. Rabbie was a fine young lad. He sent a letter or two when he first left, letting us ken he’d made Canada and was making a profit from furs. We havena heard from him since.” Malachi cocked his head, a questioning look in his familiar green eyes. “Does it matter?”
Calum frowned. “Nay.” But it did for some reason. Was it the reason she hesitated? Giving herself to the earl would not betray the young man she might have loved for her heart would remain his. He slammed some of the thick butter onto his bread. A dollop flew off the knife and onto the floor, quickly licked up by the waiting hound at his feet.
Calum chose a book of poems by Allan Ramsay from the shelf. Did she have time to read much? His mother enjoyed poetry so he thought it would be a good way to start his visit. As he climbed the stairs two at a time, he remembered the feel of her warm body against his when he’d carried her yesterday. The smile came unbidden to his lips.
The door was open again, so he poked his head in. “Are ye in the mood for some company?”
She nodded, her eyes clear this morning, her shining russet waves pulled back with a wide, brown ribbon. Dressed in a simple deep brown dress, scallops along the sleeves and hem, she sat upon the counterpane, drumming her fingers against the fabric. “I’m ready to pull my hair out. I canna remember the last time I spent so much time in bed.”
“Let me do the honor of remedying that.” He pulled the stool close beside and eased down, placing the book on the bed for her approval.
“Ye read poetry?” He heard the doubt in her voice.
“No’ as often as my mother, but she’s taught me to appreciate all types of literature. The Gentle Shepherd is her favorite. At least Ramsay is a Scot, even if he writes about the namby-pamby Lowlanders.”
Peigi laughed. The clear, sweet sound tickled his ears and prodded his heart. “I read it once long ago. So what do ye prefer then?”
“Alexander Ross is more to my taste. The Fortunate Shepherdess is a bit less romantic. Do ye enjoy books?” He found he looked forward to learning more about this woman who would be his wife.
“Aye, when there’s time. More in the winter these days, when there is less to be done outside. My mother used to read to us at night before the fire.”
“Ye miss her?”
Peigi nodded. “It frightens me when I canna bring her image to mind. I dinna want her to be forgotten.” She began to pick at the counterpane again. A nervous habit, he was learning.
“I worried about that when my grandda died. But as long as ye have the memories, our loved ones will always be with us.” He picked up the book. “Would ye like me to leave this with ye? I thought it might help pass the morning hours. I plan on providing the afternoon diversion.”
She smiled at that. “Thank ye. This idleness wears on me more than a hard day’s work.”
“I hope ye will have more time for more pleasant activities in the future.” He cleared his throat, watching her eyes for any emotion. “Have ye thought about our conversation last night?”
The slender fingers pulled at the counterpane again, but her eyes remained bright. “If ye havena changed yer mind, I accept yer offer.”
Squelching the urge to wrap her in his arms, he leaned forward and threaded his fingers through hers. “I promise to do my best to make ye happy, Peigi.”
Tears shone in her eyes. Happiness or sorrow? Then the trembling smile curved those delectable lips and he gave up the pretense. He leaned forward and kissed each eyelid, smiling at her intake of breath at his lightest touch. His lips moved to her nose, each corner of her mouth, and finally the soft rosebud mouth.
He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking the velvet soft cheek. “Ye willna regret it, I promise ye that.”
“I can only come out the better for it. I hope ye dinna regret it.”
<
br /> She surprised him then and kissed him back. Her fingers dug into the soft linen of his shirt and sent flashes of heat to his groin. He stifled the moan halfway up his throat and cupped his hand around her shoulder, running his palm up and down her arm. His tongue teased open her lips and she parted for him, shyly responding. She tasted of honey and tea, and he wanted to swallow her whole. Peigi followed his lead, and ran her fingers up and down his arms, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath her touch. She gasped into his mouth, and he smiled into their kiss, pulling back, and giving attention to her neck. Her shudder made him ache with desire. He sat back, letting the groan give him some relief.
The next hours were spent getting acquainted. He told her of his family, his brothers, what it had been like growing up with two brothers, always trailing behind him and imitating all he did. Hamish’s temper and Finley’s keen curiosity had kept him busy keeping both out of trouble.
“So ye are the son who sets the example? The ‘good’ son?” Her face was serious but her eyes glittered with laughter.
“Och, no. Ye saw through me, eh? I taught them no’ to get caught since I was always to blame when they were.”
She laughed and told of him of her childhood, of the “old days” when her mother was still alive and the Craiggs had prospered. She spoke of the crofters and the “sad times” when many of them left. Her husky tone washed over him, excited him, calmed him. She was a unique combination of soothing and sensuous. He could listen to her for hours.
“So ye sing, Peigi?” He’d wager a flock of sheep she had a captivating voice.
“A little. My voice is too low, so I canna hit the notes most females can. I stay on key, though, so there’s no need to put yer fingers in yer ears.” She grinned. “And ye?”
He pitched his voice into a high squeak. “Weel, I canna hit the low notes, but I can send the rodents running when I hit the high ones just so.” He gave a curdling aaah that started Black Angus howling. The dog put his front paws on Calum’s lap and licked his face.
“I think he wants ye to stop,” she laughed. “It seems we would make quite a duo on stage.”
“Only if we want the theater to ourselves.”
His mother hurried in, her golden eyes wide. “What is the matter? Are ye all right, child?” She put her hand on Peigi’s forehead. “Are ye in pain?”
With a chuckle, she pointed at Calum. “Yer son was showing me what a lovely singing voice he has.”
“I thought someone was dying. Sweet Jesu, Son, that was a ghastly sound.” She wagged a finger at him. “And that is no’ his true ability. Angus has been looking for ye all afternoon. He and Malachi are making plans and need ye there.”
Calum realized the hour he’d planned to spend with Peigi had turned into an entire afternoon. A delightful afternoon. He stood, kissed his mother on the forehead, bent and did the same to his future wife, and left the room with a whistle on his lips.
Both men were in the study along with his brothers. Angus sat behind his desk as usual, sitting in the highbacked leather chair as if he were holding court.
“And where have ye been hiding?” he asked, one bushy red brow arched.
“With the future Mrs. MacNaughton.” Keep the smile off yer face, ye oaf.
“A wee bit of wooing, eh?” asked Hamish. “Is she willing or has it been hard work?”
“If agreeing to marry me is willing, then yes.”
Malachi beamed. “Good, good. It’s all coming together nicely. Yer father has been discussing the responsibilities the Craiggs could take over. Since we’re on the property, we can manage the herds and sheer the sheep.”
“The MacNaughtons are kent for weaving, but it’s hard for our lasses to keep up with spinning. The Craiggs have four wheels to supply the extra thread and yarn,” added Angus. “The men we sent to Fulton Manor can be better used here.”
“By this time next year, we should be able to purchase more.” He slapped Calum on the back. “Who’d have thought falling into the loch would bring me good luck?”
Chapter Seven
A Selfish Surrender
“What are ye doing? Put me down!” Peigi laughed as Calum swung her around the room. He had spent three consecutive afternoons with her, then returned after supper this evening. She’d surprised herself at her pleasure to see him again but was astounded when he plucked her from the bed.
“Ye said ye would sooner die than be stuck in this bed for another day. How can I be yer chivalrous knight if I allow ye to wither away and die of boredom?” He carried her out the door and down the steps. She gave up the struggle and wrapped her arms around his neck. The feel of his strong arms around her, his lips close to her ear whispering sweet words as they descended to the next floor, made her giddy. Joy and hope filled her for the first time in months.
“So ye’ll kidnap me instead? I’m warning ye, my clan has no ransom to pay.”
He kissed her soundly on the mouth. “That’s the only ransom I want.”
They entered the parlor to murmurs of surprise and greetings. He commanded Black Angus to wait at the door and entered the room. “She’s no’ feeble, just has a bad leg. So, I thought if the gathering couldna go to the lass, I’d bring the lass to the gathering.”
“Braw idea,” said Hamish. “We need to ken our new sister better.” He moved a chair close to the fire and swept his arm across it in a courtly gesture. “My lady, we are at yer service.”
A giggle escaped her throat. A giggle! When was the last time she had been carefree enough to do that?
The evening was spent too quickly. She listened to the brothers telling stories of one another, arguing with one’s version and another interrupting with his own. The affection between them was apparent and it made her long for siblings. But her mother had suffered a series of miscarriages and Peigi had been considered a miracle from heaven. They were authentic and open in their interest of her, and she could see in their eyes that they measured her.
“Can ye ride?” asked Hamish, the same deep blue eyes of his oldest brother pinning her. He was powerfully built, reminding her of a handsome, black bull or a smaller version of Calum. She could not imagine anything standing in his way once he was determined to hold his ground.
“Aye, saddles and bareback. It’s often easier to ask for a leg and just go when an urgent message comes in.” She laughed at the approval in his eyes.
“So ye race?”
“I could be persuaded.”
Finley cut in. “What kind of urgent message?” The middle brother was leaner built and taller but also well built with broad shoulders and muscular calves from hours in the saddle. His legs were spread out before him in an easy sprawl. But now he leaned forward to listen, an eager look in his lighter blue gaze.
“I tend the sick of my clan. I keep a small herb garden and have a room beside the kitchen.” She winked, in high spirits and feeling carefree. “But dinna ask me for a love potion, for I swore off mixing them long ago.”
“When Rabbie left for Canada?” asked Calum, his tone light but his eyes intense.
“Nay, Rabbie was a childhood crush. A sweet boy who made my lip bleed when he tried to kiss the first time.” Calum’s face darkened, and she took a wicked pleasure in it.
“The first time?” His voice was quiet and deep. His brothers began a round of teasing, Hamish punching Calum’s arm and Finley making irritating gasps and chortles.
Peigi grinned. “The second time he missed my mouth completely. He was never a good aim with a bow or rifle either.”
Calum scowled then let out a laugh. “Ye’re a saucy lass to be sure.”
“Always has been, my boy. Just like her mother,” informed Malachi. “Now, how about some music? Ailish says this family is quite talented.”
The MacNaughtons were as talented as they were entertaining. Finley played the fiddle, Angus was a master on the bagpipes, and Ailish moved her fingers over the harp strings as sweetly as an angel. Her father and Calum lent their voices to an old
Scottish folk song.
Angus bowed before his wife. “Would ye care to dance, milady?”
“It would be my greatest pleasure.”
Malachi took over the fiddle while Fin and Ham joined their parents in a reel. Calum sat next to Peigi, patting his knee to the beat. She watched the easy and practiced way they danced together, laughter filling the room as they held hands and moved in a circle, then separating. Angus whispering something in his wife’s ear each time they joined hands or passed one another. A touch, a look, an intimate brush of a hand. She sighed, wondering if her parents would have remained so affectionate.
“Ye see it, too, I ken. Theirs is a true and genuine love. It’s the reason I havena married. My brothers and I want what my parents have.” He began clapping his hands. “I hope ye like to dance. Soon, I’ll be swinging ye around like that.”
Her throat tightened at his confession. He longed for the love he saw between his parents. Yet, he was willing to settle for only a possibility of that. Why? Duty? Nay, the MacNaughtons were not duty-bound to the Craiggs. Pity? He had expressed his distaste of the earl’s proposition. Or was he honor-bound to accept her father’s attempt to settle his debt? Peigi shook her head. This was not her worry or concern. The men had made decisions and, as a dutiful daughter, she must accept it. Even if she received so much more from the bargain. If Calum regretted the union, it was a burden she would have to bear. Her grandfather’s words came back to her. It could always be worse, lass.
But for who?
They were to leave in the morning. The wedding would take place on Hogmanay, the last day of the year. Peigi would begin the new year as Mrs. MacNaughton. First, she would return to Castle Craigg and put the household in order and pack her belongings. Several heirlooms had been designated as part of her bridal dowry. This afternoon, she would accompany Calum on a secret mission. The man had been so mysterious about the destination, she had broken into another giggle. The swelling had gone from her leg, thanks to Enid’s ministrations, and she was ready for some fresh air. She would miss the Craiggs but knew these people would become like family to her. Even the crusty chieftain had a certain charm.