His Convenient Highland Wedding

by Janice Preston

  She put her hand on his knee and, despite his utter exhaustion, his groin tightened in response. How he longed to bed her again. She’d been on his mind the entire time he’d been with Delaney in Edinburgh searching for Anna, who had moved there just over a year ago. When the trail petered out, Lachlan returned to Glasgow, leaving Delaney to continue his enquiries. He blessed the railways that had transformed travel in the years he had been in Australia. It was so convenient and so speedy, even though the disadvantage was that the railways made it easier for someone like Anna to travel to strange towns. And to disappear.

  His heart ached with the not knowing of what had become of his sister and her child.

  They were the only family he had left and now he was failing them like he’d failed the rest.

  Racked with guilt, he stared down into Flora’s sweet face, with its freckles and its soft pink lips and he felt nothing but disgust. For himself—an urchin from the gutter, daring to believe himself worthy of such a perfect lady. She would surely reject him if she knew the truth, exactly as Jessica had done. If he could only find Anna and the bairn and put things right, maybe he could begin to believe in himself again and he could become the husband Flora deserved.

  When he bedded her again, he wanted it to be special. Meaningful. Not just a physical coupling—such as their wedding night, which he knew she had not enjoyed—but more...he could not describe what he wanted. He had neither the vocabulary nor the experience. But it needed to be more...special. And that needed time and energy he couldn’t spare at the moment. His mind was clouded by his constant fear about what had become of Anna and Flora deserved his total attention.

  It could have been so different if that message hadn’t sent him hotfoot to Glasgow the instant they returned from Dalbride Manor. It was almost as though the Fates were conspiring against him.

  ‘Lachlan?’ Her eyes were anxious now, awaiting his response, and Bandit nudged his wet nose against his hand.

  ‘Your aunt...will she not blame you for your rejection of that Duke like those others did?’

  Flora’s eyes crinkled with a mischievous grin. ‘No, for she is estranged from my father for the same reason—she refused the Duke of Lochmore. Please, Lachlan. Do say we might go. I have never met her and it will make up for not having my family nearby.’

  Family. How could he deny Flora when he craved the same for himself?

  Bandit was on his feet, his head cocked to one side, stubby tail wagging furiously. If he didn’t know better, Lachlan would swear that dog knew what they were talking about.

  ‘Yes, we shall go.’

  Flora beamed. ‘Wait a minute.’ She jumped to her feet and hurried once again to the mantelpiece.

  Lachlan took the opportunity to check the date on the invitation, idly scratching Bandit’s head as he did so. Only three days hence. That would give him ample time to consult with Gregor about the distillery before they left for Glasgow. And, with any luck, Delaney might have some more news for him by then. His stomach clenched. Anna had been alive twelve months ago, but a lot could happen in a year to a mother and child in their precarious position. All he wanted was to find her and to bring her home. To look after her, as was his duty as her brother.

  Flora handed him a sheet of paper and sat next to him. It was a list of names of people, hotels, clubs and businesses.

  ‘These are some of the names Joane mentioned,’ she said. ‘And... I had another idea.’ Her cheeks washed with pink. ‘You may think it a silly notion, but I overheard Mr Burns at Dalbride Manor. He was talking about the steamer service he and his brother run to the Hebrides and the food and drink served on board. And I know there are companies that run cruises to the Highlands and Islands for the English tourists. And I remember you said the English palate isn’t accustomed to the traditional malt whiskies, so I thought we could approach some of those steamer operators and offer to supply Carnmore Whisky for their passengers.’

  She bit her lip as Lachlan thought over the idea. He took her hand then and raised it to his lips.

  ‘I think it a splendid idea,’ he said. ‘In fact, I wonder why I did not think of it—I was aware of the growing popularity of those boat trips and people certainly like to drink when they are at leisure.’

  A ball of excitement lodged under his ribcage—the feeling he always got when a great business prospect occurred to him. Except, this time, it had occurred to his wife. His respect for her grew—she’d led such a sheltered, privileged life and yet she had identified an opportunity within the growing tourism industry, which had mushroomed with the Queen’s enthusiasm for all things Scottish. Ever since he had discovered in himself a talent for business, as a young man of nineteen awarded a ticket of leave, he had recognised the importance of sniffing out a new trend and getting in early. That habit had served him very well but, this time, he had been beaten at his own game by his wife.

  He smiled at Flora and pressed his lips to her soft cheek, breathing in her unique scent. He jumped to his feet before he lost himself in her. He had no time to lose if they were to go to Glasgow for her aunt’s soirée. He must work on his ledgers tonight and then he would have two clear days to deal with matters at the distillery before returning to Glasgow.

  ‘I shall bid you goodnight, my dear. I have a busy day at the distillery tomorrow so I’m unlikely to see you at breakfast and I shall leave it to you to instruct Murray and Muriel to pack for our trip to Glasgow on Thursday.’

  * * *

  Flora watched as Lachlan strode from the room. What could she do to keep her husband’s attention? She’d seen his desire as his eyes darkened, but it was almost as though he were fighting against it. But why? She didn’t understand him. The delight she’d felt at his response to her idea slowly leached from her, leaving her deflated. For almost the first time in her life a man had listened to one of her ideas, considered it and found merit in it. Her father had never really given her a chance to voice her suggestions—ridiculing her ideas before she’d had the chance to explain them in any detail. It had left her resentful...he had always paid far more attention to her brother Donald’s ludicrous, unworkable money-generating schemes than he did to hers. He’d dismissed out of hand her suggestion of refurbishing the apartment Queen Victoria and Prince Albert had slept in last year and advertising it to the English tourists who loved to explore the romance and the beauty of the Highlands.

  Hmmph. Donald’s schemes fail and he gets nothing but praise, and my sisters get respectable dowries to enable them to marry well, whereas I...

  She reined back her grumbling thoughts and took in her surroundings: the drawing room, furnished in the latest style; the floor, fully carpeted; the beautiful pianoforte, such a Godsend to her; a blazing fire in the grate; the valuable ornaments dotted around the room; the floral wallpaper of various colours on a crimson background; the luxurious crimson floor-length curtains and pelmet...how could she doubt she was better off than her brother and her sisters? Lachlan might not be the most attentive husband in the world, but he was hard-working and he had at least appreciated her idea. He’d even praised it—quite the novelty for a woman who was more used to being ignored by her father and her brother. Father could not believe that a mere female could have any idea worth considering and Donald had always been jealous.

  With any luck she might also secure a patron for Carnmore Whisky and prove herself even further. If she could not have the satisfaction of a close marriage, at least she could enjoy the satisfaction of helping her husband to build his business empire.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Flora clutched Lachlan’s arm as he opened the wrought-iron gate to a small but modern double-fronted sandstone villa, set back from the road in Partick, a village to the west of Glasgow. Large bay windows set either side of the wide front door gave the house a pleasing symmetry, as did the chimneys from which smoke curled lazily, there being no wind.

  They had arrived at
her aunt’s house early for, the day after Lachlan had returned home, Flora had received a letter from her aunt, begging them to arrive an hour before the start of their soirée.

  For I long for nothing more than to sit quietly and get to know my dear niece, and I fear I shall be too tempted to neglect our other guests for you. Please say you will come.

  And Lachlan—even though he was so busy—had agreed. They had set forth early that morning and steamed up the Clyde on the Pioneer before taking a hackney to the Tontine Hotel on the Trongate. Muriel had accompanied them, but not Murray as Lachlan would manage without his valet. Flora had been disappointed, but not surprised, to discover that Lachlan had reserved two bedchambers for their visit. Her hopes of understanding her husband diminished with each passing day—he seemed content for them to be friends rather than lovers. He was constantly distracted and, when he forgot to blank his expression, she could see how anxious he was. But what about? Was it the success of Carnmore Whisky that worried him or was there something else on his mind?

  ‘Are you nervous?’ Lachlan patted Flora’s hand. ‘Your aunt would not have invited us if she did not wish to get to know you. Besides...’

  She glanced up at him as he paused. He met her gaze and humour glinted in his dark eyes.

  ‘Besides, you have me here to protect you and, if all else fails, you can always make a run for it again.’

  His mouth twitched and Flora laughed, giving his arm a gentle slap. ‘I suppose I deserve that. I shall not run away, but I cannot help worrying she won’t like me.’

  A maid opened the door in response to Lachlan’s knock.

  ‘Mr McNeill and Lady Flora McNeill,’ he said.

  Flora glowed with pride. Lachlan was so handsome in his black suit, his red and ivory waistcoat and his black silk top hat, his appearance the epitome of a prosperous gentleman and she realised, with a start, that she wouldn’t swap him for any number of dukes. If only... She swallowed past the lump that lodged in her throat. If only they were closer, as a man and wife ought to be.

  The hall had a polished wooden floor and painted panelling on the walls but, before Flora could take in much more of their surroundings, a trim lady dressed in a blue shot-silk gown bustled towards them, her hands outstretched, her gaze fixed upon Flora. Flora only needed to see her red hair—a little faded by age—and green eyes to know this was her Aunt Tessa.

  ‘Flora!’ She was enveloped in a scented hug. ‘Oh, this is such a joy!’

  Flora instinctively hugged her in return as a tiny sniffle reached her ears. Tessa held Flora’s shoulders and looked her up and down. Her eyes were moist and her mouth trembled a little before she controlled her emotions.

  ‘I am so thrilled you are here.’ She released Flora and smiled at Lachlan. ‘And this, I presume, is your husband? Well, that settles it. You and I are definitely alike—we like the tall, dark, handsome fellows, do we not?’

  She winked at Flora and then tiptoed up to kiss Lachlan on the cheek. Flora stared, open-mouthed. Her aunt dared to be openly affectionate to a nephew she had only just met and yet Flora hesitated to act upon such impulse, even though Lachlan was her husband. Never in her entire life had she seen her parents behave so spontaneously.

  Lachlan raised Tessa’s hand to his lips. ‘And I see that not only good taste but also beauty runs in the McCrieff family, Mrs Anderson.’ He frowned. ‘Or...should I call you Lady Tessa?’

  ‘A charmer, too!’ Tessa’s eyes twinkled. ‘And it’s Mrs Anderson, or plain old Tessa to friends and family.’ She shot a rueful smile at Flora. ‘I haven’t used that courtesy title since my marriage. I almost forgot it existed!’

  Lachlan handed her a bottle. ‘I have taken the liberty of bringing you a bottle of whisky from my distillery at Carnmore. I shall be interested to hear your verdict upon it.’

  Tessa laughed. ‘And an opportunist to boot! I like him, Niece.’ She linked her arm through Flora’s. ‘Come on in. I cannot wait for you to meet my William.’

  William was, indeed, tall, dark and handsome, with serious grey eyes. He seemed every bit as fond of his wife as she was of him and neither of them hesitated to show it.

  ‘And let us not be formal,’ said Tessa, once the men had shaken hands and William had gravely bent to kiss Flora’s cheek. ‘No aunt and uncle, please. We are Tessa and William, and I do hope we shall be good friends.

  ‘Come, let William pour you both a drink and we can chat until our other guests arrive. William?’

  ‘My dear?’

  ‘Lachlan has brought us a bottle of his whisky. Would you be good enough to pour me a wee dram? I am curious to sample it, having heard about the grand plans he has to expand his distillery.’

  Tessa led them into a light, airy drawing room with a carved marble chimneypiece and pale blue and silver striped wallpaper. She guided Flora to a large mahogany sofa upholstered in blue and dressed with colourful tasselled cushions. As they chatted—Flora answering Tessa’s many questions about her old home and her brother’s family—Flora couldn’t help overhearing snatches of Lachlan’s conversation with William.

  ‘William is an engineer,’ said Tessa. ‘He works for Robert Napier and Sons—they designed and built some of the first ships to be constructed of iron instead of wood. It is hard to imagine such a heavy ship staying afloat, is it not? But they do—they have been most successful and William says that is the future of shipping—huge vessels powered by steam to carry goods all over the Empire.’

  Her voice rang with pride.

  ‘You clearly don’t regret not marrying the Duke.’

  ‘Benneit?’ Tessa laughed. ‘Not in the slightest. I was sent in disgrace to live with my Aunt Isobel and before long a handsome young engineer came to live next door and stole my heart.’

  Her hand rose to her chest and a quiet sigh escaped her and, at that very moment, Flora heard Lachlan say, ‘I have but recently returned from Edinburgh—’

  ‘I used to find excuses to linger on the doorstep, hoping to see him as he returned home from work, and before long we were in love. So, no, I have no regrets, other than being estranged from my brother and not knowing my nieces and nephew.’

  Tessa’s comment drowned out whatever else Lachlan said and Flora murmured an appropriate response even as she wondered what he had been doing in Edinburgh. He had been called away to Glasgow by that letter. He’d never mentioned business interests in Edinburgh before. What else did he keep from her? She turned and stared at his profile as he concentrated on what William was saying.

  Who are you?

  He’d shown he could be charming to women when he chose to be—flirting and teasing, as he had with Aunt Tessa and with some of the other ladies at Sir Keith’s house party...those who would speak to him. Even Brenda Fraser, who was old enough to be his mother, got that certain look on her face when she spoke of him—the look that declared that she thoroughly approved of him. But with Flora he all too often seemed self-conscious and stiff—except for the few occasions when he seemed to forget himself. And allowed himself to relax. And revealed more of the real man she sensed was hidden inside him. It was almost as though he feared offending her.

  Either that or he simply didn’t care what she thought of him.

  Does he see no reason to make an effort with me because I am already his wife?

  That thought gave her more pain than she expected and she quickly quashed it. She didn’t want to believe that because it would mean any effort she made to get closer to him was doomed to failure. She pasted her smile in place and concentrated on the names of the people she would meet that evening as Tessa told her about the expected guests. Upon hearing that there would be owners of shipping and ferry companies among them, Flora confided her idea to Tessa.

  ‘Well, Carnmore Whisky certainly has our approval,’ said Tessa. ‘William will always prefer a single malt but, for my part, I liked the smoother tas
te. I will make sure to introduce you to anyone I think might be able to help your expansion.’ Her sharp eyes roamed Flora’s face. She took her hand. ‘You are apprehensive, but there is no need. Our friends will not judge you. Joane wrote to me about what happened with Galkirk and, if it comforts you, I believe you did the right thing. He is thoroughly unpleasant with an unshakeable belief in his own superiority merely because of an accident of birth. Your Lachlan is much more suitable...’ She hesitated, then continued with determination, ‘Although, forgive me, but you do seem rather...stiff...with one another. You have not quarrelled, have you?’

  Flora shook her head.

  ‘Did you not know him very well before you wed?’

  Flora’s cheeks burned. ‘I did not know him at all. We met for the first time at the altar.’

  ‘What?’ Tessa clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes huge. She lowered her voice. ‘Do you mean to tell me your father married you off to a complete stranger?’

  Flora nodded. Tessa’s eyes searched hers. ‘Are you happy? Is he kind to you? Oh, dear God, child...whatever was that brother of mine thinking?’ She leaned closer even as the unmistakable sound of new arrivals filtered into the room from the hallway. ‘If ever you need a place to stay, my dear, you will come to me, won’t you? I mean, he seems nice enough, but—’

  ‘It is all right, Aun—Tessa. I promise you. H-he is nice. I j-just don’t know him very well yet.’

  ‘I should think not! Now, I have my duties as hostess, Flora, but...please write to me. Let me know if anything is troubling you. You promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  And, with that, the room was suddenly crowded with an influx of people and Tessa was gone.

  * * *

  The evening proved an enlightenment for Flora. The people she met were nothing like the members of Scottish society she had known from childhood. Nor were they the serious, business-focused men and their quiet but supportive wives that she had met at Sir Keith’s house party. These people were a mixture of writers and engineers, journalists and scientists, poets and politicians, musicians and manufacturers, and they discussed every subject under the sun—both serious and frivolous—with much laughter and waving of hands, agreeing and disagreeing in a stimulating debate. And the one thread that seemed to bind these people together was the dream of making things better. Of helping the poor to rise. Not of revolution, such as had been occurring all over Europe in the past year—revolutions that Flora, to her shame, had never even heard of until recently—but through political and social reform.