His Heir, Her Secret (Highland Heroes Book 1)

by Janice Maynard

  Cate sniffed. “I’d love to see it.” Miss Izzy was tiny. This would never work. But she didn’t want to hurt the old woman’s feelings. “Of course I would.”

  She followed the Stewart matriarch down the hall to the large master suite. Isobel hadn’t changed a thing since returning home as far as Cate could tell. Geoffrey’s pipe still lay on the dresser.

  The cedar chest sat at the end of the massive four-poster. Isobel raised the lid, bent and carefully lifted out a tissue-wrapped bundle. She carried it around to the side of the bed and laid it reverently on the mattress. Suddenly, she stopped and put her hands to her face. “Ah, heavens, lass. I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would make me weep. I miss my Geoffrey.”

  Cate put an arm around her and sighed. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? You grieving and me hormonal. It’s a wonder Brody hasn’t run for the hills. Are you sure you’re okay with him marrying me? I wouldn’t do anything in the world to cause you more heartache.”

  Isobel leaned her head on Cate’s shoulder and wiped her eyes with a dainty lace-edged handkerchief. “I think it’s the right thing to do, Cate. Giving the bairn a legitimate birth. And as for you and Brody, well, time will tell.”

  The quavering words were hardly a ringing endorsement. But Isobel, like many of her countrymen, was practical and down-to-earth. She’d lived a long time and seen it all.

  Cate stepped away and touched the tissue-wrapped bundle. “I don’t think we should disturb the dress, Miss Izzy. I’m a lot taller than you are. And not as thin.”

  “Nonsense.” Isobel straightened her spine. “The differences in our heights will make it tea length, which is perfectly acceptable for a courthouse wedding. And I wasn’t always so scrawny. I started shrinkin’ when I got old.”

  Cate couldn’t help laughing. “If you’re sure.”

  “Take it there in the bathroom and have a go at it. I have a notion ye’ll be surprised.”

  Isobel’s wedding gown was a dream, a romantic, exquisite vision of times gone by. Cate undressed, slipped it on and looked in the mirror.

  From bodice to hem, the fit was perfect, thanks in most part to the timeless design. Heavy cream satin. Cut on the bias. Not a single pearl or bead or speck of lace. It was astonishingly perfect.

  The wide, low-cut neckline showcased Cate’s assets. The fabric was designed to cinch beneath the breasts and fall freely to the floor. The fact that the hem landed a couple of inches below her knees proved Miss Izzy’s point. On Cate, the wedding gown was tea length.

  The rich, lustrous material was soft to the touch. It slid over her rapidly increasing belly gently—by no means hiding her pregnancy—but instead, subtly emphasizing her condition. With one last glance in the mirror, Cate opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

  Isobel’s eyes brightened, and she exclaimed, “Ah, lass. Ye’re a vision, ’tis true. Please tell me you like it. Lie if you have to. I’ve got my heart set on it now, you wearing my dress, that is.”

  Cate shook her head in bemusement. “Of course I like it,” she said. “I feel like a princess.”

  “Don’t move,” Isobel said. She scurried across the room to the dresser. Lifting the lid on a large, carved wooden box, she examined the contents, then scooped something out.

  She turned back to face Cate. Her hands were cupped together, hiding the prize. “Don’t look, Cate. I’ve another surprise for ye. In fact, close your eyes. Don’t peek until I give ye the word.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cate stood in one spot obediently, not sure what Isobel had up her sleeve next. Moments later she felt the old woman’s small, gnarled fingers brush the back of her neck.

  “Geoffrey gave me these on the day we were wed,” Isobel said. “The puir man nearly bankrupted himself, but he was determined his bride would have a suitable wedding gift.” She steered Cate toward the mirror. “Ye can look now, lass.”

  Cate opened her eyes and gasped softly. “Oh, wow. They’re gorgeous, Miss Izzy.” The strand of pearls was perhaps twenty inches long. It fell just at the tops of Cate’s breasts. The color of the aging pearls matched the dress perfectly. Cate touched the creamy beads reverently. “I don’t think I can wear them, though. I’d be terrified they might break. I do appreciate the thought.”

  Isobel got up in her face and shook a finger. “Don’t talk back to yer elders, my girl. Brody’s grandfather picked these out, and now Brody’s bride will wear them.”

  “This isn’t a real wedding, Miss Izzy. You know that. It seems disrespectful at the very least.”

  Isobel harrumphed. “Ye’ll still be legally wed, no matter what nonsense you and my grandson have cooked up between you. History means something to we Scots, Cate.” She touched Cate’s baby softly. “This bairn inside you carries the blood of Highland clansmen. Strong. Honorable. Wed to the land they loved. And by the by, I can’t believe you and Brody are being so stubborn. It’s the twenty-first century. We should know by now if this wee one is a boy or a girl.”

  Cate grinned, still stroking the pearls warmed by her skin. “It’s going to be a surprise. To all of us. Brody and I want it that way.”

  “Makes no sense to turn yer back on technology,” Isobel muttered. Her criticism was not new. She was like a little child anticipating Christmas when it came to this baby.

  Cate took one last look in the mirror and exhaled. “I suppose we’re done here. The dress. The pearls. I already own a pair of ivory sandals that will work. Thank you for doing this, Miss Izzy. You saved me.”

  * * *

  Brody stood in the foyer of his grandmother’s elegant home and wrestled with the knot in his tie. Under other circumstances, he would be wearing his full dress kilt on his wedding day. Instead, he’d been forced to settle for a dark, hand-tailored suit. The uniform of the wealthy American male was perfectly acceptable, but Brody was Scots to his bones.

  He should be wearing his kilt.

  The two women in his life were supposed to have met him fifteen minutes ago. The delay stretched his nerves. His hands were clammy. His stomach churned.

  When Cate appeared without fanfare from the hallway, his breath caught in his chest. “C-cate,” he stuttered.

  Her smile was tentative. “Hey, Brody. We’re almost ready. Your grandmother forgot her hearing aids and went back to get them.”

  “Ah.” He cleared his throat. “You look incredible, lass.” Her hair fell like liquid gold in softly curving waves.

  Cate smoothed her skirt self-consciously. “This is your grandmother’s wedding dress. I couldn’t find anything that would work, so she offered me her gown. It’s not too much, is it?” Big green eyes stared at him.

  He shook his head. “Not at all. You look like a Madonna.” He wanted to say more, but she seemed as nervous as he felt, and he didn’t want to venture into intimate territory when they weren’t going to be alone.

  Since Isobel arrived moments later, he was glad he had held his tongue.

  Soon, they were on their way down the mountain. The county seat was thirty-five miles away. Isobel and Cate sat in the back of the car, leaving Brody alone with his thoughts. The old adage about it being bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding wasn’t really practical in this situation. There was no one to drive the females to the courthouse but Brody.

  He had asked Cate in a roundabout way if there was someone she would like to have with her during the ceremony. She had said no. That worried him. Shouldn’t Cate have at least one or two girlfriends to confide in? Isobel was a wonderful woman, but several decades separated her and Cate.

  He glanced in the rearview and unexpectedly caught Cate staring at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her expression hard to read. Was she thinking about backing out of this wedding? The possibility made him antsy.

  At the courthouse, their little trio elicited few stares. Despite the pregnant bride and her elderly attendant, Brody, Cate an
d Isobel were far from being the most unusual people waiting to be wed.

  At last, it was their turn. Brody was so rattled it took him three tries to find the pocket where he had tucked Cate’s wedding ring. Suddenly, the whole thing felt wrong.

  Cate picked up on his unease. “Brody?” She scanned his face. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “I didn’t mean for it to be so clinical,” he muttered. “We should at least have had a minister.”

  Cate lifted one beautiful shoulder and let it fall. “You needed legalities,” she said quietly. “This will suffice.”

  Soon, the judge was speaking. Brody couldn’t have repeated a single word or phrase of the ceremony afterward, even if he’d been faced with a firing squad. His whole brain went blank. All he could do was stare at his bride and mutter his responses at the appropriate places.

  The only one that really registered was with this ring, I thee wed. He repeated the words and slipped the circle of platinum onto Cate’s slender finger. Too late, he wished he had bought her an engagement ring, as well.

  She curled her fingers into a fist and exhaled audibly. To his surprise, she had a ring for him, too. It was heavy and wide, the gold etched with a Gaelic pattern. When she took his hand in hers and pushed the ring against his knuckle, her touch made him shudder.

  Suddenly, he wanted her. Intensely. Inappropriately, given the witnesses around them. Hoping that his jacket hid the state of his arousal, he helped her with the ring and kept her hand in his for the final words.

  At last, it was over. Granny Isobel cried and hugged them both. Cate smiled, but she was pale, too pale.

  Brody took Cate’s shoulders in a gentle grasp and bent his head. “Happy wedding day, Mrs. Stewart.” He kissed her long and deep, his heart slamming in his chest. Cate’s lips clung to his. Her scent filled his lungs.

  Slender arms came up around his neck, and she clung to him. “Aye, Mr. Stewart,” she whispered. “I suppose it is.”

  He held her carefully, very aware of her baby bump. Isobel interrupted his concentration. “Tell her about the surprise, Brody,” she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Tell her.”

  Cate pulled away and smoothed her hair. “Surprise?”

  Brody gave his grandmother the stink eye and waved her off. Escorting Cate to a corner of the room, he bent his head and kissed her temple, because he couldn’t help himself. Touching her was an addiction. “Mrs. Tompkins is going to stay with Isobel for a few days. Granny packed your bags. They’re in the back of the car. I’ve booked us a four-night honeymoon in Key West.”

  Far from being excited, his new bride frowned. “That’s not necessary. You know this wedding isn’t the real thing. A honeymoon would be inappropriate and over-the-top.”

  He held his temper with difficulty. “Make no mistake, Cate. We’re married. For real. You are my wife, and I’m your husband.” Saying the words aloud gave him an odd feeling.

  “For now,” she said, her expression both mulish and panicked.

  His momentary anger faded as rapidly as it had come. Poor Cate looked overwhelmed. “Don’t make a big deal about it,” he said gently. “Everyone knows that life with a newborn is difficult and chaotic. If it makes you feel better, think of this as a pre-baby, relaxing getaway. You deserve to be pampered.”

  “I’m not sure I feel like flying in my condition.”

  “I’ve chartered a small, private jet. We’ll be the only passengers. You’ll have plenty of privacy and room to be comfortable.”

  “I suppose you’ve thought of everything.” She bit her lower lip.

  He took a gamble. “I won’t make you go, Cate. I can cancel if that’s what you want.”

  She reached for his lapel, adjusting the single white rosebud pinned there. Brody had bought her an enormous, expensive bouquet of matching roses with freesias and eucalypti. “I’ve never been to Key West.”

  “Neither have I. We can explore together.”

  “And share a bed?” Those cat eyes stared at him blandly.

  “It is a honeymoon,” he pointed out. “And it’s our wedding day.”

  Sexual tension shimmered between them. For a moment he flashed on an image of him lifting her satiny skirt and taking her up against the wall. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Yes or no, Catie girl. What’s it going to be?”

  He saw the muscles in her throat work as she swallowed. This close to her, he could see the deep valley between her breasts.

  “Take me to Key West, Brody. I want to be alone with you before you go back to Scotland.”

  Fourteen

  Cate felt like a fairy-tale princess if one overlooked the fact that she was six months pregnant. Isobel had hugged her and cried as they left the courthouse. Both Brody and his grandmother had insisted that Cate continue to wear her wedding dress and carry her bouquet. There was no hiding the fact that she was a very unusual bride.

  During the brief drive to the Asheville airport, Brody behaved himself. When he held her and kissed her after the ceremony, she had felt the evidence of his arousal. Knowing he still wanted her went a long way toward soothing her doubts. Perhaps Brody was right when he said that many couples began a life together with much less in common.

  She had dreaded the usual airport ordeals, but her fears were groundless. Apparently, Brody’s money made a host of hurdles disappear. In no time at all, they boarded the sleek private jet and strapped themselves into large, comfy seats. Although there was no flight attendant, the small, luxurious plane was stocked with every conceivable amenity.

  While the pilot and copilot ran through the pre-flight checklist, Brody offered Cate a flute of sparkling cider. “To my blushing bride,” he said, touching his glass lightly to hers.

  He was incredibly handsome in his tailored suit that fit his masculine, athletic frame perfectly.

  Cate drank thirstily. It had been hot in the courthouse. She felt limp and rumpled. Because she had been too nervous to eat before the ceremony, now she was starving. “Are those sandwiches?” she asked, trying not to let Brody see how totally freaked out she was.

  His grin was indulgent. “Aye.” He opened the container and offered it to her. “We’ll have a special dinner tonight, but this should hold us until then.”

  Cate was glad of the meal for more reasons than one. Eating gave her a way to ignore Brody to some extent. Only a narrow aisle separated their seats. The whole cabin was small, and Brody was a large man. His presence made her shaky. Or maybe she was getting airsick.

  At this point in their relationship, her feelings for him were a weird mélange of excitement and dread.

  Fortunately, by the time she finished eating, there was plenty to occupy her attention outside her small window. The pilot had flown south and east, and now their route hugged the coastline. She spotted miles of ocean sparkling far below.

  Brody startled her when he touched her shoulder. “How are you feeling, Cate?”

  She turned her head reluctantly. This man was her husband. Her husband. “Um, fine, I suppose.”

  His grin was lopsided. “Hardly a glowing affirmation on your wedding day.” He caressed her elbow, his warm fingers sending gooseflesh down her spine and everywhere else.

  Out of nowhere, stupid tears threatened again. “Stop it, Brody. Don’t pretend. Playacting isn’t necessary. I already feel like a fraud. You’ll only make it worse.”

  His lighthearted smile was instantly replaced by a scowl. Blue eyes turned icy, and his jaw tightened. “Make no mistake, Catie girl. This marriage is real. Ye may not have had ten bridesmaids and a string quartet, but you are my wife. For better or worse.” The utter determination in his gravelly voice sent a frisson of unease through her belly.

  “And what if it’s for worse? What then?” Despite her best efforts, tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks.

  Brody’s expression har
dened. He released her. “You know the options. We stay married for the bairn, or we get divorced.”

  “I don’t know why you made us do this,” she cried.

  He stared at her, his expression glacial. “I never forced you, Cate. That’s not fair.”

  She swallowed hard. He was entitled to his anger. Gripping the armrests, she sniffed and then wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I apologize. You’re right, of course. It’s been a difficult few weeks. At the risk of sounding like a cliché, these stupid pregnancy hormones are making me a little crazy.”

  He nodded, his gaze hooded. “Why don’t you rest? I’ll wake you up when we land.”

  * * *

  The closer they came to Key West, the more Brody fumed and brooded. He had only himself to blame for this colossal mess. He’d pushed her too hard. And the hell of it was, he was not at all sure he had done the right thing. Not when it made Cate so skittish.

  She had been more comfortable with him back in October when they barely knew each other.

  Now those wary cat eyes constantly watched him. What was she thinking? How was he supposed to guess? She kept her emotions so damned guarded all the time. Why couldn’t she relax and trust him? Was that so much to ask?

  He studied her while she slept. Her hair was caught up today in a fancy concoction that was nothing more than a challenge to a hungry male. Already he imagined removing each pin until the entire mass of soft, silky waves tumbled into his hands.

  When she rode him, that curtain of hair would fall across her full breasts. The image in his brain sent a signal to his groin, increasing his discomfort. In his gut, he believed that sex was the place they connected. Maybe if he kept Cate in bed for the next four days they would find enough common ground to survive this marriage.

  She slept deeply, her head tilted to one side. It was no wonder he had fallen instantly in lust with her last October. She was exquisite. Creamy skin. Classic features. Only now did he acknowledge the stubborn tilt to her chin. It should have been a tip-off.