She’d forgotten what impressive men her brothers were. He stood at least half a foot over six feet tall—a couple of inches taller than Lachlan, who was himself an unusually tall man. Like Lachlan, Rory was broad-shouldered and exceedingly well muscled. His hair was dark golden brown, his eyes an unusually striking blue, and his perfectly chiseled features well tanned. The combination was striking, and something was oddly familiar. It took her a moment to realize why. His eyes were the exact same color as hers. The obvious blood connection moved her more than she would have thought possible.
Realizing she was staring, she shifted her gaze back to Lachlan, who seemed amused by her study of her brother.
She grinned sheepishly and, remembering her duty, greeted one of the most powerful men in Scotland, the Earl of Argyll. “Cousin, I hope your journey was a pleasant one.”
“Uneventful, at least. We had to travel with uncomfortable speed to arrive in the time allotted by Coll’s messenger.” Seeing Flora’s contrite expression, he added, “Not that I mind.” He gave her a sharp look. “I’d begun to think you would never wed.”
Rory stepped forward to greet her with an unexpected hug. “It is good to see you, Flora. It’s been too long.”
Not used to such brotherly displays of affection, Flora held herself awkwardly for a moment before she allowed herself to relax. It felt strange…but nice. When he released her, she was able to say with all sincerity, “It has indeed, brother.”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your mother, lass.”
Flora felt the familiar wave of sadness, stayed by the sudden comforting press of Lachlan’s hand at her waist. “Thank you,” she said. “I miss her greatly.”
Rory glanced meaningfully at Lachlan’s hand. “Coll was just explaining how this all came about. I admit it was a bit of a surprise. I was under the impression from the missive you sent refusing my invitation to Dunvegan that you were with Duart.”
Luckily, she and Lachlan had anticipated this question and were prepared. Indicating for the men to sit, Flora took the seat beside Lachlan. Folding her hands in her lap, she turned to her brother and tried to stay calm under his intense scrutiny. Something she’d had plenty of practice with the past few weeks, thanks to Lachlan.
“On my way to see Hector, we suffered a carriage accident on the road near Falkirk.” She left out the fact that she’d been eloping with Lord Murray and that the accident was a result of being waylaid by kidnappers.
“I happened to be returning from Edinburgh,” Lachlan continued. “And was able to offer Mistress MacLeod assistance.”
“How fortunate that you were there to help,” Argyll said. “Brigands and thieves have made the roads so dangerous, who knows what might have befallen you, Flora.”
She looked at her cousin quizzically. It wasn’t like him to be so accommodating. She’d expected some rather pointed questions from her demanding cousin.
Rory studied her so intently, she felt a strange urge to squirm. Then he turned his scrutiny on Lachlan. “Fortunate indeed.” It was clear from his tone that he was skeptical. He looked directly at Lachlan. “Why did you not return my sister to Edinburgh?”
“I was needed here.”
“She should have been returned to her family as soon as was possible,” Rory pointed out, his voice holding an ominous edge. “Even if you could not do so yourself, you should have sent for me. Immediately.”
Lachlan met his gaze. “I discovered I liked having Mistress MacLeod here—with me.”
Rory’s eyes flared, and Flora could see his hand tighten on the wooden arm of the chair. Lachlan noticed but didn’t seem to show any indication of backing down. The tension between the two men was palpable. Realizing she’d better do something before this deteriorated further, she stepped in. “It was my wish as well, brother. Please, don’t be angry. Can’t you see that it has all turned out for the best?”
Rory broke his glare at Lachlan long enough to look at her and see that she was in earnest.
“Are you sure that this is what you want, Flora? You wish to marry Coll? He has not coerced you—”
“No,” Flora said firmly, putting a restraining hand on Lachlan, sensing his anger. “I came to this decision on my own. I assure you, Rory, I wish to marry him.” She smiled at Lachlan. “More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”
Lachlan took her hand and held it in his, an almost symbolic gesture. “You’ve heard it. We have agreed to marry. It is done.”
Flora looked at him questioningly, noting the odd turn of phrase.
“Not if I withhold my permission,” Rory said.
“Are you doing so?” Lachlan challenged.
“Of course he isn’t,” Argyll said. “He’s already agreed.”
But Rory looked as though he were having second thoughts. What would she do if he withheld his permission? She had to make him see.
“Please, brother,” Flora said softly. “I love him.”
Rory looked into her eyes. Flora waited, holding her breath. Finally, a wide smile spread across his handsome face. “Ah, then how can I object? It is your decision.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Congratulations, little sister.”
Once the situation was under control and the tension between the two men had dissipated, Flora excused herself, leaving the men to their whisky. She needed to check on Mary and Gilly and make sure everything was ready for tomorrow.
The meeting had gone much better than she’d expected, she thought with not a small amount of relief. Rory had been suspicious. Rightfully so, she admitted. What had been more surprising was her cousin’s reaction—she’d expected more resistance from him. He must be more anxious to see her wed than she’d realized.
She didn’t have to look long, finding the girls in the kitchens’ vaults beneath the great hall. Gilly was giggling with one of the young serving girls, and Mary was giving last minute instructions to the cook. Her eyes were bright and her face unusually animated. It was the happiest she’d seen her in some time, Flora realized.
“Is everything ready?” she asked.
Both girls turned to her at once.
“Flora!” Gilly said. “You look beautiful. Wherever did you get that lovely gown?”
“Your brother sent for my clothes.”
“He did?” Gilly said, obviously surprised. “What have you done to him? Gowns are the last thing he thinks about. You should see his face when I tell him my dresses are too short or out-of-date.”
Flora laughed. “I couldn’t believe it myself. But that’s not why I’m here. I have a surprise for both of you.”
Gilly’s eyes lit up. “What kind of surprise?”
“Gilly,” Mary said patiently, “it wouldn’t be a surprise if she told us.”
Gilly shot Mary a look of sisterly annoyance. Flora bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud. Instead she said, “You’ll have to go to your chamber and find out.” She’d never realized how many gowns and shoes she had until confronted with the sight of all her trunks stacked about in her small tower room. After living so many weeks with a limited—to put it mildly—wardrobe, such superfluity embarrassed her. So she’d gone through her gowns and chosen a number that would be perfect for Gilly and Mary. When she returned to Edinburgh, she would have an entire new wardrobe made for each of them.
Gilly took off running at once, and Flora and Mary watched her disappear up the stairs with a smile.
“Gilly has never been one for patience,” Mary said.
“I can see that,” Flora replied. “Though I have to admit, I’m much like her.” Her gaze fell on Mary’s happy face. “It’s good to see you smile again, Mary.”
Mary lowered her eyes and blushed. “I have good reason.”
“You do?”
Mary nodded. Flora could see she was struggling to contain her excitement. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you until tomorrow…”
Flora held her breath, hoping. “Tell me what?”
Mary met her gaze, and Flora could
see tears of happiness shining back at her. “My brother has changed his mind. He’s agreed to let Allan court me, and if we both still feel the same in a year, he will give his permission for us to marry.”
Flora wrapped her arms around the younger girl in a big hug. “Oh, Mary, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Mary laughed. “And I have you to thank for it.”
Flora shook her head. “No. Your brother would have changed his mind eventually—once he realized your feelings were in earnest. He would never force you into a marriage you didn’t want. He loves you.”
Mary looked at her skeptically. “He was quite determined. He loves us, but the good of the clan comes first. I know you spoke to him and urged him to reconsider, he said as much to me.”
“He did?”
“Yes. And don’t you see, when you agreed to marry him and he gained your family connections, garnering an alliance with my marriage became much less important.”
“Well, however it came about, I’m so happy for you. You look radiant. Allan won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” She grinned. “Especially when he sees what I’ve left you. Now hurry, up to your room, there isn’t much time left to change.”
Mary’s eyes widened with comprehension. She gave Flora another quick hug before following her sister up the stairs with only a slightly more dignified speed.
Flora was so happy, she thought she could burst. After tomorrow, it would be perfect.
Lachlan felt the tension dissipate with Rory’s agreement. After the declaration he’d made with Flora and with what he had planned tonight, he didn’t need it, but for Flora’s sake he was glad. It would make tomorrow much more pleasant.
Marriage law in Scotland was open to interpretation, to say the least. Although the kirk frowned on irregular marriage and tried to discourage them by levying fines and the like, it did not take much to make a valid claim of marriage. A statement of intent to marry followed by consummation would suffice. And Lachlan intended to make sure he had such a claim, not wanting to take a chance that Rory would change his mind.
Clearly, Rory didn’t believe their story of a chance meeting, and Lachlan expected to be under some intense questioning as soon as Flora left the room—which she did not long after to attend to the evening meal.
He wasn’t disappointed. The door had barely closed before Rory turned on him. “Now you’ll tell me what really happened.”
He considered lying, but he respected his old friend too much to do so—even if it meant facing the wrong end of Rory’s fabled claymore. He wouldn’t tell him about the bargain he’d made with Argyll, but he would tell him enough of the truth to forestall any more questions.
He gave Argyll a quick glance before turning back to Rory. “It wasn’t an accident. My men stopped her carriage.”
All signs of conviviality vanished. There was only so far he could stretch the bonds of friendship, and he’d just hit the limits.
“You abducted my sister?”
There was no good answer to that question, so he stayed silent.
Rory’s jaw hardened, holding back his fury by a very thin thread. “Why?” he asked.
Lachlan met Rory’s angry gaze, knowing that it was only their long friendship that had prevented him from challenging him first and asking questions second. “I wanted her.”
“If you forced her, you are a dead man.” The cold fury in Rory’s voice resonated in the small room.
“You know me better than that.”
“I thought so. Why not come to me? You know I would have pressed your suit.”
“That is the very reason I did not. I’d heard she was strong-willed and opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. I thought the direct approach would be more effective.”
Rory must have acknowledged the truth to that, because he did not argue. Instead he said, “How did you know where she would be?”
Lachlan explained about the elopement, leaving out how he’d come to be aware of it.
Rory swore. Like Argyll, he was no friend to Lord Murray. “The little minx.”
Argyll, who’d been conspicuously quiet and more than content to let Lachlan appease the MacLeod, finally spoke. “Coll’s method might have been rather primitive, but you cannot argue with the results. It is a good match, and clearly the lass wants him.”
Rory’s eyes narrowed at Argyll. He should have kept his mouth shut and let Lachlan handle it. The MacLeod suspected that something else was afoot.
“Only the fact that I am convinced my sister does wish to marry you of her own free will prevents me from questioning you further. But before I leave here, I will have the full story.”
Lachlan nodded. By then, it would be too late for it to matter.
Chapter 18
The day of her wedding dawned bright and sunny with nary a cloud on the horizon, but Flora woke feeling chilled. Out of habit, she reached for the solid warmth beside her but felt only empty space and cold bed linens. She experienced a sharp moment of panic before remembering. They’d made love last night, but in deference to the presence of her cousin and brother, Lachlan had returned to his own room. It was the first time they hadn’t spent the entire night together since she’d agreed to marry him. It was strange to realize how much she missed him and how alone she felt without him.
He’d been so tender last night, drawing out every moment of pleasure. He’d cradled her against his body as he moved inside her, looking into her eyes with an intensity that made her heart squeeze.
After today, they would be bound together forever. Excitement for the day to come made her eager to begin. She tossed aside her coverlet, she slipped from bed and scampered to the window—immediately regretting her lack of footwear as her bare feet hit the cold wooden planks.
Bright sunlight spilled through the glass, filling the room with a gentle heat that warmed the chill from her skin. From the height of the sun on the horizon, she realized that she’d slept later than she intended. The short ceremony would take place at midday, followed by a feast that would last long into the night.
She didn’t have much time to get ready. Knowing that Morag would be up soon to help her dress, she started toward the stack of half-emptied trunks that still littered the room, intent on finding the silk stockings she’d misplaced in yesterday’s frenzy of sorting through her clothes for Mary and Gilly.
She smiled, thinking how splendid the girls had looked last night. Lachlan had been moved by her gift to his sisters, but she’d never forget the look on Allan’s face when he saw Mary. A year would not come soon enough for those two.
The evening meal had gone well enough, though Lachlan seemed distracted. She hoped her brother and cousin had not questioned him too harshly. He didn’t relish lying to them, she knew, but would do what was necessary. It was one of the things she admired about him: He always kept sight of the goal and would do what he had to do to achieve it.
As she walked toward her trunks, her foot scraped against something that crinkled. Looking down, she noticed a folded piece of parchment on the floor near the door.
She wrinkled her brows. Where had that come from? Curiosity roused, she bent to pick it up and instantly recognized the seal—the Maclean of Duart. Hector. What did he want? Knowing there was only one way to find out, she broke the wax and read.
I apologize if my rescue attempt frightened you. My only thought was your safety. I know what Coll is planning, and you must not marry him. He is deceiving you. My men will be watching the castle gates should you have need of them.
Your brother, Hector
She scanned the letter again, not knowing quite what to make of it. Obviously, the enmity between Lachlan and Hector was strong. It saddened her to think that by marrying Lachlan, she would most likely lose a chance at getting to know one of her brothers. She didn’t give credence to his vague warnings, but something did disturb her. How had this letter been slipped under her door? Did Lachlan have a spy in his midst?
Flora glanced outside again to check the time and made a decision. It was growing late, but this couldn’t wait. If she left right now, she just might catch him. He and Rory were supposed to be signing the contracts this morning. Quickly, she donned Mary’s old dress, as it was the easiest thing to put on, and went in search of her soon-to-be husband.
Lachlan breathed a sigh of relief as Rory MacLeod signed his name on the roll of parchment beside his. It was done. The contracts had been signed, and after what had happened last night, the ceremony was a mere formality. Though Flora might not know it, by Scottish law and tradition, they were already married.
Not only had he assured his brother’s freedom, he’d become a very wealthy man in the process. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do, but his pleasure was tempered by the knowledge that Flora would be hurt by her cousin’s involvement in their marriage.
The moment of reckoning was drawing near. Tonight after the celebration, he would explain everything—though he knew that making her understand wouldn’t be easy…or pleasant.
After offering his congratulations, Rory excused himself to attend to some matters before the ceremony and feast got under way, leaving Lachlan alone with Argyll.
It was just the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Without preamble he said, “Where’s my brother?”
Argyll’s mouth curved slightly. “I imagine the same place he’s been for the last two months.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed. “Today is my wedding day.”
Argyll took a leisurely sip of claret. “So it is.”
Knowing Argyll was toying with him, Lachlan held his anger in check. He would never give Argyll the satisfaction—it would only make him smell blood. But the earl had a well-earned reputation for wiliness. God’s blood, I’ll kill him if he tries to wheedle his way out of our bargain. Lachlan studied the man opposite him. A Highlander, but you would never know it. Argyll dressed and spoke like a Lowlander, with his refined manners and fine silk slops and doublet. But he was no delicate courtier—not like Lord Murray. Argyll hadn’t gotten where he was without considerable strength and acumen.
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