Blair had already come to that conclusion. Finlay had been so kind on the journey here, looking out for her mother and her. She’d also seen how he’d cared for the men and horses that traveled with them. Despite his hulking appearance, he seemed to be a good man.
As she stood speechless, her friend drew back and gazed directly into her face with a pleased look. She flushed, then her friend chimed in, “’Twill mean ye will live here with us part of the year.”
Part of the year. What did she mean? Would Finlay send her home sometimes? But she wasn’t able to voice a question before Lachlan was taking her by the hand, drawing her forward, and placing her hand into Finlay’s.
“I approve of this union between a Cameron and a Macnab,” he stated loudly as he turned.
From that moment, the world moved in a blur. Kirstie guided her from the room to be bathed. Before long, her friend had her in a clean gown and had placed ribbons in her hair. A short while later, Kirstie led her down the hall and into a chapel.
As they moved to the front, doubts crept in, until a vision of Bruce appearing haggard and crazed assailed her.
Finlay would care for her, and she would be among Royalists and friends. She’d also realized on the journey here she enjoyed listening to his deep, soothing voice.
This was what she had to do. For her own safety and for the good of her clan. If her father wouldn’t make the right choices, at least John and she could salvage the clan name.
Blindly walking down the aisle, she stopped at the front of the chapel to face the man she was pledging herself to. The new shirt stretched across his broad shoulders was clean and a bit snug. He was a comely man. She inhaled and breathed in the scent wafting from him—fresh lavender.
Och, she would be in Finlay’s bed tonight.
The unexpected warmth of Finlay’s long fingers clasped onto her hands jolted her. She flinched. His touch hadn’t bothered her, it was the shock of the touch she’d not anticipated.
Hurt flashed in his eyes, and she wished she could tell him, nae, ’twas no’ ye, but words started spilling from Father Fergus’s lips, and she was pulled away despite not hearing a thing. Her ears rang, and her knees became wobbly.
It was all happening so fast.
“Aye, I will.” Finlay’s husky voice was steady.
Swallowing, she scrutinized the man she was marrying. Her thoughts returned to the wedding night. He was large, much larger than Henry. Her hands started to tremble as uneasiness invaded over what the night might bring.
Finlay glanced down at them then back up at her, and his thumb brushed back and forth across her wrist. It had a calming effect, reminding her that this man was gentle, and he would never harm her.
“Blair,” broke into her thoughts, but she wasn’t sure who said it. Tearing her attention from Finlay, she noticed the priest was expecting her to say something. She just repeated what Finlay had said. “Aye, I will.”
Would he be quick to anger? Would he respect her as a woman? Would he hate her when he discovered she was marrying him because she was being blackmailed?
But that wasn’t the whole truth. She liked Finlay and would choose him before any other. Even as that dawned on her, she realized it was too late to ask questions now.
“Kiss her.”
The sound registered, just as cheers rang out and hazel eyes dipped toward hers.
Finlay’s full lips landed on hers like soft silk sliding against her flesh. Her eyes shut as a foreign sensation swept her into a world where only his touch existed. The soft pressure of Finlay’s mouth was the only thing she felt until an arm coiled around her waist. It pulled her up onto her toes and into his hard body, deepening the embrace, making her insides quake.
The caress made her want to imagine a world where she was one with this man, a partnership in all things. It was like this were her first kiss, like everything before had been an illusion and this was what her body had known a man’s touch should be.
This was magic.
Finlay’s arm loosened, and she was sinking back to the floor, falling into a new world. One she felt had somehow righted itself, setting a course toward what she’d wanted from life.
Chapter Five
The sun still illuminated the evening sky and trickled in through the chapel windows, which lent a magical glow to the holy space. Despite the hour and weariness from their journey, Finlay had a renewed sense of peace and a faith that God had given Blair to him, a precious gift he would guard with his life.
Until something faded in her eyes as they said the words that would bind them together. His heart lurched, thinking she might not be as moved by the moment as he. Still, he prayed it was just nerves, because he wanted her to come to care for him. He wanted the happy relationship his parents never had.
Blair’s fingers trembled as they recited the vows. Someone told him he could kiss her, so he dipped his head and placed his lips on hers. She stilled, and the whole world stopped moving. Her lips were soft and subtle, and when he wound an arm around her waist to pull her farther into his embrace, she sighed like he’d done something right.
He’d kissed others, but this was the first time it sent shivers right to his spine, immobilizing him, except for that part of him that wanted more. He deepened the caress. If this simple touch rocked him to his core, what would it be like when he claimed her body?
A cheer erupted from the gathered clansmen, pulling him from his thoughts. He loosened his grip, and Blair’s slight form slid down his body to land on her feet. He’d not realized he’d picked her up.
His heart was thudding, breath coming fast as heat surged to the part of him that had come to life with a simple kiss, the part now throbbing with need. Her bright eyes rested on his, and she smiled. Och, thank God she smiled, but then he remembered where his thoughts had gone with such a simple touch and in front of a crowd.
Only a short while later, Finlay’s new bride and he walked in silence toward the stables. The rest of Blair’s family was settled in rooms at Kentillie, with the other Macnab men seen to elsewhere. He was eager to show Blair their home and sleep in a familiar bed. He glanced over at her, wishing to take her hand in his, but afraid she would flinch away as she had during their wedding. Still, he was willing to take things slow and let her get to know him first.
“’Tis a lovely night.” Her soft voice carried to him on a wayward breeze.
“Aye, ’tis.” He thought to say how lovely she was, but words had never been his strength. Instead, emboldened by her relaxed tone, he took her hand in his and was rewarded when she clasped on, inviting the connection.
“Kirstie said I may no’ live here all the time.”
He could hear the question in the statement. She sounded hurt.
“Will ye send me away part of the year?”
He stopped. Is that what she thought?
“Nae.” He still had so much to explain, and he cursed himself for his haste in their marriage and not fully explaining his life to her. If he didn’t have to rush off to visit the king, he would have taken enough time to woo her properly; heaven knows she hadn’t had that with Henry, either. She deserved so much more, and as soon as he had given King Charles the news, he promised himself he would court her properly and let her know that she was worthy of a man’s respect.
“I dinnae ken, then.”
Squeezing her hand, he confessed, “I live in England part of the year.” His free arm clasped onto her and caressed Blair’s smooth skin. How natural it felt to have her small hand in his, and how at ease he was becoming with her, because despite him neglecting to tell her, she had softened.
“Why? Is yer family in England?” The simple gesture of touching her seemed to calm her, the question coming out without the worry he’d heard in her previous words.
“My father is an earl. My mother refused to move to England with him, so I spent my years as a child, going back and forth between the two.”
“Are they married? I thought a wife had to do as her husba
nd instructed.” There was no judgment, only curiosity.
“Nae. They never wed.” Dropping his arm from hers, he continued to guide her toward the horses.
“Do ye have brothers and sisters? I thought ye were an only child.”
“I have two brothers, but we only share a father.”
He’d said enough, the conversation starting to turn his insides hollow when he should be celebrating. His English family was the last thing he wished to be thinking of now.
Coming to the edge of the stables, he signaled for one of the lads to retrieve their horses.
“’Tis why we leave for England tomorrow. I have important business to see to.”
“How long will we be there?”
“Nae long this time. There is too much going on with the Covenanters and the rebellion against the king.”
“Will yer family like me?”
“My father will love ye, but I never ken how my brothers are going to behave.”
The lads arrived with their horses. He put his hands on her tiny waist and easily lifted her onto the seat of her mare.
After he climbed on his stallion, he noticed her coloring had changed pale, her hand flat on her belly as if it were giving her trouble again. If he’d had any doubts about her condition before the wedding, now he was sure she was with child. He’d done the right thing. This babe would have a father and a mother.
“Are ye feeling all right?”
“Nae. I think I may have eaten something that didnae like me.”
Och. Did she still not know, or was she afraid to tell him? Some ladies weren’t taught what happened when a man and woman were together until it was too late. Had she been one of those women who had been kept in the dark? Was it better when she did discover her condition if she knew it was Henry’s babe she carried, or would it be better if she thought it was her husband’s?
…
Blair thought she’d be feeling better by now. The whole journey she’d been plagued by cramps, and her courses had been so heavy she’d thought she would fall over from fatigue. She ticked off the food she’d consumed this evening to determine if it was something she ate.
The stew.
It had tasted lovely with a nice smooth texture, not like the brothy kind she was used to. Och, it must have had cream in it. The meal had already been prepared, and with the distraction of the wedding, she’d not thought to ask if any of the food had been made with cheese. She’d be lucky if she kept the contents of her stomach tonight, but luckily, she’d been nervous and had only taken a few small spoonfuls.
It was her wedding night. Finlay would want to take her to his bed. What would he think when she ran from the room seeking a safe place to relieve the pressure?
After arriving at a small cottage in a clearing not far from the castle, he helped her dismount and disappeared into a small stable while she studied the outside of the house, a quaint little place far from the bustling Macnab keep where she’d spent her youth.
The stones were gray, strong in appearance, but dull. While the home was surrounded by the beautiful backdrop of a mountain and the dark trees of the forest, it lacked the color and character she would have liked. Disappointment crept in, almost immediately followed by guilt.
All those skills she’d spent years strengthening in order to care for a castle and servants would not be needed in her new home. She couldn’t help but feel a little saddened, like all her visions of what she’d hoped for in a future had been ripped from her head, swirled around and condensed into the small cottage in front of her.
Well, she would make the most of it.
Her stomach cramped, and she nearly bent over, nauseous with the pain. A hand landed on her back, and her instant reaction was to flinch. Finlay pulled his soothing hand away just as quickly as it appeared. She wanted to say, Nae, it felt nice, but another wave of pain washed over her, and her face heated. She did manage, “I’m sorry. I still dinnae feel well.”
He looked understanding, almost as comforting as the fingers that had rested on the base of her spine. “Come.” He tilted his head toward the house.
Pushing the door in, he gave her a warm smile before nodding for her to enter. It was darker inside, and she could only make out the outline of murky shapes. He stepped in behind her, a rush of air floating across her skin as he closed the door and bolted it behind them. A welcoming scent filled her nostrils, possibly apples and cinnamon mixed with whisky. Somehow it felt right. Freezing in place and breathing in the aroma, she waited on Finlay as he moved seamlessly into the room to light a candle.
The small, flickering light cast a comforting glow on the room that now reminded her of a warm hideaway she’d wanted as a child, a place where she could go and be herself. Sturdy wooden furniture was placed at odd angles around the room, a blanket strewn on the sofa, shoes and bags in a pile by the side of the door. But the first word that popped in her head to describe its appearance was sparse.
Her new husband was not the most organized of men. At least that would give her something to do, because they had not had time to discuss duties and what her role would be in the home. They had a lot to talk about, and suddenly, she looked forward to getting to know her husband. A small thrill rode through her like a butterfly chasing lavender.
Her stomach cramped again.
He had been studying her perusal as if looking for approval. She tried to give him her best smile.
“We must leave early. ’Twill need a full night’s rest for the journey.”
Mention of their wedding night brought a shiver to her shoulders, although she managed to keep it from being obvious. She didn’t want her experience with Henry to taint her, but she was terrified of consummating their marriage.
Swallowing, she straightened her backbone, like she always did when something needed to be done, and determined she would follow through on the task at hand. She would be a good wife.
Wanting to change and prepare for him, she thought on her attire—the same dusty gown she’d worn riding into Kentillie today. She’d brought little with her, and what she had, Finlay had sent to his home by Cameron men after they’d arrived at the castle. The trunk was in a corner. The energy to rifle through the small chest to find the new shift her mother had given her the morning they left felt daunting. He probably wouldn’t mind if she just stayed in her current shift.
“Will ye show me to our room?” Och, somehow she sounded too eager. Would he think her a harlot after her confession about Henry?
“Aye.” He guided her to a small room just off the main one.
She almost questioned, this is it, but somehow refrained, thinking it might hurt his pride if she diminished the size and meagerly decorated nature of their home. On second glance, although there were few items, each might tell a story about her husband.
Strolling over to a chair, she picked up a worn plaid, one that reminded her of the blanket she kept on her bed at home, almost threadbare. She drew it in and inhaled. Pure Finlay. Spice and security. Cinnamon and warmth, and now she was his. Hope surged as she thought of how he’d clung to this relic. Maybe he would find such an attachment to her. Yes, that’s what she wanted to be to him—the blanket that kept him safe and comfortable the rest of his life.
When she turned back, it was to see in the light of the candle his eyes seemed focused, intent. But instead of being afraid, something in his dilated gaze made her feel treasured. She smiled then caught herself studying her new husband as his regard lingered. She only came up to his chest. He’d be difficult to kiss, but she’d wanted to kiss him again since the ceremony. His caress had been soft, tender, not like those punishing assaults by the weasel who had taken from her what she’d not been ready to give…what she should have been able to give to this man.
Heat rose to her cheeks, just as another cramp attacked. His eyes went from needy to worried, and she realized she’d not been able to hide her reaction to her body’s protest. She’d have to inquire what was in the food at Kentillie before dining th
ere in the future.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Finlay moved closer.
“Nae. I think I just need rest.”
“Ye get ready for bed. I have a couple things to see to and will be back to check on ye as soon as I am finished.” He backed and placed the candle on the side table then walked from the room.
She undressed down to her shift and climbed under the covers. Her stomach finally returned to normal as she drifted off to sleep while waiting for her husband to return.
Chapter Six
He should go in and bed his wife, that’s what any other man would do. Och, but she looked so pale, and Finlay wanted her first experience with him to be pleasant. He’d come so close, too, about to kiss her when her face had turned green. Was it the baby?
Pacing the common room of his home, he vowed to give her a little space. He needed to tame the longing that had heated his blood the instant he’d seen her in his room. And when she’d smelled his favorite old blanket and nuzzled her head into the scent that could only be his, he felt a desire to claim her as his, cover her body with the scent of him, so she knew he would always keep her safe.
Instead of returning to the room, he made preparations for their journey then took the time to pen a letter to his mother, apologizing that he’d wed Blair without her presence, reassuring her that she would love his new bride, and promising to visit her as soon as they made it back from England.
The letters swirled and jumbled in his head, causing it to pound as he struggled with the task of getting the lines in the right place. It should have only taken minutes, but he was certain a good hour had passed before he was done. He wasn’t unlearned, but he’d always struggled with this type of task. Why was it so hard for him? What would Blair think if she ever found out?
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