His Convenient Highland Wedding

by Janice Preston

  And Lachlan joined in the cut and thrust of debate and she could see the respect dawning in others’ eyes. Pride swelled her heart. She knew, from when their own conversation had veered towards the issue of poverty and inequality, that he felt passionately about the subject but here, tonight, his fervour shone bright and her determination to learn more about her husband grew.

  ‘He is quite the orator once he starts, is he not?’ Tessa slipped her arm around Flora and hugged her. ‘I like him,’ she whispered into Flora’s ear. ‘And I am relieved to be able to say that.’

  Flora smiled. ‘Thank you. I like him, too.’

  Tessa laughed out loud. ‘Well, that is a most welcome piece of news, my love.’

  A smiling Lachlan looked around at that moment and, as his gaze met Flora’s, he stilled. Then he was walking towards her, still smiling, his gaze never leaving her face and she recognised it as the smile of a man interested in a woman. Intent. She felt her cheeks heat and her stomach tumble with nerves. With heat. With anticipation.

  ‘I shall see you later,’ murmured Tessa and she moved away as Lachlan stopped in front of Flora.

  Her heart beat erratically as his dark eyes roamed her face, then settled on her lips. He dipped his head and his hand sought hers.

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ His breath tickled her ear and the sensitive skin of her neck.

  ‘Yes. Thank you. Everybody has been very kind.’

  How she wished she could say something clever—something to grab his attention—as these other people seemed to do quite effortlessly.

  ‘I am...’ He coughed, his gaze sliding from hers to settle somewhere beyond her left ear. His cheeks flagged a dull red. ‘I am proud to be here with you, Flora.’ His gaze touched hers again, for a second, before skittering away. ‘Very proud,’ he added gruffly.

  Heat kindled inside her and her heartbeat picked up speed. Not only at the compliment, but at the realisation—and it was an eye-opener—that Lachlan was embarrassed. Uncertain. Her taciturn husband—the self-assured businessman—was shy. Of her. A small piece of the puzzle of their marriage slotted into place. All this time she had felt inadequate and she had not realised that he, maybe, felt the same uncertainties that she did. It was so unexpected. He was ten years older than her. Much more experienced. He was a man. Why would he feel that way about her?

  She touched his sleeve. ‘And I am proud to be here with you, too, Lachlan. As your wife.’

  His jaw tightened, but a smile flickered around his lips.

  ‘Come and join our discussions.’ His voice was husky as he placed his hand at the small of her back.

  She hung back. ‘I do not know enough about politics and so forth to join in. I am not clever enough.’

  ‘You are clever enough. You just lack experience. You need not venture an opinion but, by listening to the arguments, you will begin to form your own beliefs. And then, before long, you will be eager to voice your opinions.’

  The idea was a revelation—that the men here in this room might value a lady’s opinion. Admittedly, looking around, she could see that the gentlemen still dominated the conversation but, when a lady spoke, they did her the courtesy of listening and agreeing or disagreeing based on the merits of what she said, not dismissing her ideas merely because of her sex. Flora could still never imagine being bold enough to voice her thoughts on such serious subjects, but she allowed Lachlan, his hand settled supportively at the small of her back, to guide her to the nearest group where she listened diligently to the conversation. Occasionally she was lost but, for the most part, she understood the subject—the formation of burghs to enable areas to raise taxes and to help them retain their independence from the City of Glasgow.

  ‘Flora?’ Tessa was beside her, accompanied by a tall, fair-haired gentleman. He looked a similar age to Lachlan, but he sported a luxuriant growth of side whiskers that made him look a decade older. ‘Might I introduce Lord Andrew Smillie?’

  Flora smiled as his lordship bowed. ‘I am pleased to meet you. You are Lord Rannoch’s son?’ She knew of the family, but had never met any of them.

  ‘I am. The youngest of four, so I shall never accede to the title.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t envy my eldest brother that honour, not in the least. And you are Aberwyld’s daughter?’

  ‘Yes.’ Flora watched him closely, but saw no hint of scorn in his clear blue eyes.

  ‘Andrew has just been telling me about his new business venture, Flora. I think you might be interested. Oh! It seems I am needed.’ Tessa waved back at William, who had beckoned her over. ‘I shall leave you two to talk.’

  ‘You are in business?’

  ‘I am.’ Lord Andrew’s blue eyes crinkled into a smile. ‘Steamships. It’s a newish company, running regular cruises up the west coast and to the Hebrides. The tourist industry is growing so fast and these boat cruises are all the rage, you know, in England. Demand last summer grew week by week and, by this summer, I plan to double the number of ships.’

  ‘And are you seeking suppliers of food and drink for your steamships?’

  ‘Indeed. I have already sampled your husband’s new blended whisky and I found it very pleasant.’ He leaned a little closer to her and lowered his voice. ‘I have never been a great whisky lover myself, although it is sacrilege for a Highlander to admit such a thing, of course.’

  * * *

  Lachlan couldn’t stop watching as Flora laughed up at the tall, blond, aristocratic-looking gentleman. His teeth were clenched so hard his jaw hurt. Then she caught Lachlan’s eye and she smiled at him, beckoning.

  He struggled to wipe the scowl from his face as he joined them and Flora introduced them.

  Lord Andrew Smillie. I knew he was an aristocrat.

  ‘Lord Andrew is interested in Carnmore Whisky, Lachlan,’ Flora continued. ‘For his tourist ships.’

  And Lachlan felt instant shame at his unwarranted jealous reaction.

  ‘We won’t be sailing again until the spring,’ Smillie was saying, ‘but, in the meantime, we offer Sunday excursions along the Clyde and out of the city for the workers. They are very popular, too—it’s an opportunity for the workers to breathe fresh air, away from the smoke and the grime of the city. Of course, the very poorest cannot afford such trips, but we must hope to slowly change all that.’

  ‘I wonder what they will make of the new blended whisky,’ said Lachlan.

  ‘To be honest—’ Lord Andrew winked ‘—I don’t believe they will care if they can buy it cheaper than malt and it’ll make a change from gin. Drinking,’ he added, ‘appears to be something of a national pastime, does it not? I cannot believe it is good for their health, but the poor wretches must have some pleasure in their lives, after all.’ He glanced across at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Now, I apologise, but I must take my leave of you. My wife is indisposed and could not accompany me this evening and I promised not to be gone too long.

  ‘I’m pleased to have met you both.’ He took out a card and handed it to Lachlan. ‘That is my office address. Call in some time over the next couple of weeks and we’ll talk terms.’

  Lachlan and Flora smiled at one another in delight when he left, although Lachlan felt even guiltier about his initial boorish reaction. Thank God he was used to hiding his feelings.

  * * *

  The hackney that had brought them to Partick returned to collect them at the prearranged time and Flora hugged and kissed Tessa and then William, her beaming smile filling Lachlan with joy.

  ‘And next time you stay in Glasgow, you will stay with us,’ said William.

  ‘Thank you. I hope you will both visit us at Lochmore, too,’ said Flora.

  ‘That would be delightful.’

  The horse and carriage set off at a smart trot and Lachlan turned to Flora. The sparkle in her eyes and the sheer happiness of her smile mirrored his own triumphant joy.


  ‘What an evening!’

  He grabbed her gloved hand and brought it to his lips. He craved the heat and the taste and the scent of her skin and he unbuttoned her glove and pushed back the cuff before pressing his lips and then his tongue to the delicate skin of her inner wrist, feeling her pulse leap and stutter. He wanted more... He took each finger of her glove between his teeth, one by one, and tugged until the glove slid off and dropped unheeded to the floor.

  ‘You were splendid, Flora. Thank you.’ He kissed her palm and then leaned into her touch as she cupped his face.

  ‘It was you who was splendid, Lachlan. I—I told you before. I am very proud of you.’

  Her shyness tore at his heartstrings. He cradled her jaw, turning her face to his and their lips met in an explosion of passion. He gathered her into his arms...on to his lap...kissing her as though his life depended upon it. She wriggled closer as his arms tightened around her. She tasted so sweet...so damned sensual as her tongue tangled with his...all this time of staying away from her bed...telling himself he wanted no distractions...persuading himself he was doing the right thing for her...he cursed himself as all kinds of a fool.

  He angled his head, deepening the kiss, a groan of need vibrating in his throat. Her breasts were solidly encased by her tightly laced corset and high-necked gown and he groaned again, this time in frustration. He skimmed his hand down to her hem and found her ankle. He caressed the delicate bones, growing almost painfully hard as his hand trailed higher, stroking her silk-encased calf and behind her knee as he explored her mouth. Her hands were in his hair, her fingers on his scalp, her breathy sighs driving him wild.

  He sensed the hackney slow and he wrenched his mouth from hers.

  ‘Enough!’

  She leaned back, her eyes wide and wary. He swallowed down his frustration and gently lifted her from his lap and sat her on the seat next to him, willing his body back under control. A glance out of the window confirmed they were on the Trongate.

  Lachlan stretched his lips into a smile he did not feel. ‘I am not so uncouth that I will ravish my own wife in a hackney. Especially not here.’ He gestured at the window.

  Flora looked and gasped. ‘Our hotel.’

  ‘Yes.’

  The concierge trod down the front steps and opened the carriage door, holding aloft an umbrella to shelter them from the rain that was just starting to fall. Lachlan pressed a coin into the man’s hand, paid the driver and took Flora’s hand. Her bare hand. He frowned.

  ‘Wait!’

  He soon found the discarded glove on the carriage floor and he handed it to Flora, who blushed bright red as she pulled it back on. He bit back a grin. He would soon have that off again. They would go straight to her room. He would dismiss Muriel and he would play the part of lady’s maid himself—unlacing her, unpinning her hair, brushing it out to fall like liquid fire around her white shoulders. He wrenched his imagination back into line, for he was growing hard once again just thinking about the night to come.

  A tall figure stepped from the shadows. ‘Mr McNeill, sir.’

  Lachlan’s gut clenched. ‘Delaney.’

  He moved Flora to place himself between her and the investigator.

  He had written to Delaney in Edinburgh to let him know they would be in Glasgow for a few days in case... He hauled in a breath. He could not hear what Delaney had to report here. Not in front of Flora.

  ‘Give me a minute, Delaney. I’ll be back shortly.’ He took Flora by the elbow. ‘Come, my dear.’

  Inside, he steered her towards the stairs.

  ‘Who was that man, Lachlan? What does he want with you? Can it not wait until morning?’

  He hated the fear in her voice, but he couldn’t explain. Not when the question of whether Anna might be alive or dead weighed down upon him like a huge black cloud.

  ‘It is nothing to worry about, Flora, I promise you. But I do need to talk to him tonight.’

  Muriel was waiting in Flora’s bedchamber, to his relief.

  ‘I shall see you later.’

  He kissed Flora’s cheek, ignored her hurt look and headed back downstairs, his stomach churning. Delaney waited, leaning on his cane, his hat tilted at a rakish angle.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Not here.’

  Delaney grasped his arm and steered him across the road, into a side street and into a tavern. He commandeered a table in the corner and, at his signal, a servant brought a bottle of whisky and two glasses.

  ‘I found her.’

  Delaney poured them both a dram. He downed his drink in one swallow, then pushed a piece of paper across the table. An address was written on it.

  ‘She’s alive, then?’ Lachlan’s voice sounded rough and he knocked back his own drink. ‘Is she well? And the bairn?’

  Delaney nodded. ‘Well enough. I haven’t spoken to her, but I’ve seen them both.’ He hooked his hand around the back of his neck and grimaced. ‘You might not like what I found out.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘She’s a whore.’

  The air whooshed from Lachlan’s lungs. His baby sister? A whore? He battened down his emotions. He needed to keep a clear head. He needed facts.

  ‘Why Edinburgh?’

  Delaney shrugged. ‘Why not?’ Lachlan saw sympathy in the other man’s eyes as he continued, ‘She’s not alone in following that path. She needed to survive and she had a baby to support.’ He leaned on his forearms, lacing his fingers. ‘Does this change your intentions?’

  ‘No.’ He didn’t need to think about it. ‘It makes no difference. She’s still my sister. They are still my family.’

  It was his fault she’d been reduced to this.

  I will care for them from now on. They’ll want for nothing.

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ Delaney scratched his jaw. ‘It might make it easier to know that it looks like she was forced into that life. She was in debt and her debt was sold to an Edinburgh pimp called Hopkins.’

  Lachlan scowled at him. ‘Why did you not say so at the start?’

  Delaney shrugged. ‘Because I can’t be sure I’ve been told the truth and I was curious to know if you would still take her in, were you to find her only to discover she had willingly chosen such a life.’

  Lachlan grunted. He understood Delany’s reasoning, but he objected to being manipulated like that.

  ‘When will you go?’

  ‘As soon as I can. In the morning.’

  ‘And what will you tell your wife? Very pretty, by the way.’

  Lachlan’s scowl deepened. ‘So glad you approve! I shan’t tell her a thing. Not until I’ve spoken to Anna.’

  How would Flora react to Anna coming home to Lochmore with them? Maybe she need never know about her past? He thrust that problem aside. The first thing—the most important thing—was to see Anna.

  ‘Do you need me to go with you?’

  ‘No. There’s no need. I’ll go on the first train. Send your bill and I’ll settle up.’

  He shoved back his chair and the two men left the tavern together and walked back up to the Trongate.

  They shook hands on the corner.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Delaney and he sauntered off down the street, swinging his cane.

  Lachlan watched him go and then stood, irresolute, gazing at the hotel over the street. The rain had stopped. He tugged his collar up against the cold and began to walk. A passing hackney slowed, but he waved it on. He had a lot of thinking to do.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Flora awoke early the next morning she was filled with a strange sense of foreboding. She opened her eyes and took in the unfamiliar bedchamber. She turned her head on her pillow, and saw that the other half of the double bed lay undisturbed, the pillow plump and the bedcovers smooth. The events of the previous evening burst upon her with the suddenness of a cl
ap of thunder: the soirée; the joy of meeting Tessa and William; the euphoria of working together with Lachlan to secure success with Lord Andrew; her growing confidence; the kiss on the way home and the heat and anticipation that built between them. Finally, she had thought, they would become a real couple. Even when Lachlan had gone back downstairs to talk to that man she had never imagined—not for one minute—that it would prevent him from coming to her. From keeping his word. I shall see you later, he had said. And why would she not believe him? She’d prepared for bed and she had waited for him. And waited. And finally, gathering her courage, she had crept along the corridor to his door and tapped before opening it.

  Only to be greeted by an empty room and both his coat and hat still missing.

  The same defeat and dismay she had felt last night churned her stomach again as she remembered creeping back to her own bedchamber and into bed, careful to keep to her own side so that when Lachlan eventually returned, he would feel welcome and would know that she was expecting him.

  Except he never came.

  She sat up, anger supplanting every other emotion and, in a fit of rebellion, she flung herself across the other side of the bed, hitting the pillow and rucking up the sheets and blankets. The sound of the door opening sent her pulse rocketing, but it was only Muriel.

  ‘Ye’re awake early, my lady,’ she said. ‘Would you like me to bring your breakfast to your room?’