The Scottish Lord’s Secret Bride

by Raven McAllan

  She sniffed somewhat inelegantly. ‘You told me I was too young to make such a momentous decision. That I needed to learn the ways of the world. You intimated I was too young to know my own mind.’ She shook her head and dashed her hand over her eyes. ‘Ha, but evidently not too young to sleep with you. No.’ This time she held her hand in the air. ‘One moment, I err. There was not a lot of sleep involved was there. Let us call a spade a spade. To f…fuck,’ she stumbled over the word, ‘with you.’

  ‘If you felt like that why did you ignore my letters?’ Fraser demanded. ‘I waited and waited for your reply.’

  Morven harrumphed and stamped her slipper-shod foot on his boot-clad one. As a pain it hardly registered but he understood she meant it to indicate her annoyance. Why? What right had she to be annoyed? That surely was his privilege?

  ‘Oh do not try that old chestnut, Fraser.’ In her agitation it seemed she had forgotten his title and reverted to the way they had spoken before. ‘I got no letters.’

  What?

  ‘Morven, I assure you I sent one.’ Surely his serious tone would intimate how sincere he was? ‘In fact just to be on the safe side I sent two,’ Fraser continued, as he remembered how he’d laboured over those letters to show how serious he was. ‘One with Lachy McRae to Welland and one by the mail to London. Both before I left for Barbados. I even told you where I had left money for your journey.’

  Morven paled and swayed. Fraser grasped her arm as she leaned into him and looked up at him, her eyes large and worried in her pale face. ‘I got nothing, Fraser, I promise you. Not one word.’

  They stared at each other and he was sure her annoyance and despair was mirrored in his own expression. Why were those missives not received?

  ‘I cried. I wanted no one and nothing except you. Lord, I even railed at the fate that had ensured I was not with child. It would have been hard, but I would have had part of you. As it was I had almost nothing.’ She put her hand to her neck and then let it fall to her side. He contemplated what made her clutch her throat in such a way. Was that a silver chain he could see under the lace of her gown?

  ‘Then it makes me wonder, who interfered?’ Fraser said slowly. There was silence for three heartbeats. ‘And why.’

  ‘Mama,’ they both said at the same time.

  ‘How dare they!’ Morven exclaimed, her worry replaced by anger. The eyes that a few moments earlier had appeared pale and anguished were now dark as coal and seemed to be spitting fire. ‘How could my mama do such a thing? Or yours. It was my life. Our life. Mama sent me up here and left me alone all those months, happily enough. Was there any concern on her behalf then? Oh no, not at all.’

  She shook her head and strands of hair the colour of midnight danced around her face. She blew out a puff of air to remove them from her cheeks and brushed those that hung over her eyes behind her ears with an impatient gesture. ‘Just off you go—Lady Napier is desirous of getting to know you better. You will enjoy yourself. And not once did she enquire if indeed I was happy. Out of sight out of mind, no doubt. One less to think about. Oh she… Argh…words fail me.’

  Fraser laughed. ‘Actually, they don’t,’ he pointed out. ‘You are ranting most eloquently.’

  Morven scowled. ‘Do not diminish this,’ she said fiercely. ‘I am not amused.’

  He held his hands in the air in supplication. ‘I’m not making light of anything, love, I assure you. I am as unamused as you are. However, I did see the contradiction in your speech.’

  ‘Yes, well, even so…’ She broke off and smiled ruefully. ‘I accept I am somewhat agitated and tend to rant on. But really, Fraser, it beggars belief. Why, when I went back like a dutiful daughter, did she stop me hearing from you? Lord, did she open the letters? What was she thinking?’

  ‘The same as mine perhaps?’ Fraser said wryly. ‘That they had other plans for us. As in, me to Barbados—alone—and you…?’

  Morven laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘Me to be the Duchess of Plumpton perhaps? However, I spoiled her plans. Marry Frederick Laker when I was in love with you?’

  She loved me? Maybe she still does.

  ‘You didn’t want to?’ he asked cautiously. ‘Marry someone else?’ It would not be the best plan to spin her around in a circle and kiss her senseless saying thank goodness. Not yet.

  ‘Not a chance. He is amiable to a fault and has no original thoughts. Plus what we had was…’ she hesitated, ran her tongue over her lips and swallowed ‘…special. So even though I thought you’d forgotten me, I declined.’

  All those years for what? Heartache and worry. Fraser kissed her cheek, and Morven sighed.

  ‘Where does that leave us now, I wonder?’

  ‘Well…’ Fraser hesitated. ‘I need to go to Stirling to discover that for sure.’

  ‘You do? Why, what do you need to find out?’

  ‘Whether we are really married or not.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘Pardon?’ Morven saw stars in front of her eyes and there was a horrible buzzing noise in her ears. Louder than a wasp that flew around her head it gave her a hazy, out of the world feeling. Had Scotland got a new insect she knew nothing of? One that addled her brains?

  ‘Did you…’ It was ridiculous. Her hearing had to be defective. Fraser couldn’t have said he needed to discover if they were husband and wife, surely? She shook her head to try and focus. It didn’t help. Her skin prickled and goosebumps appeared.

  Get a grip.

  ‘You…what?’ Lord she sounded a pitiful specimen. ‘I…’ Her ability to speak deserted her.

  ‘Put your head between your knees,’ Fraser said peremptorily as she experienced the sensation of being in his arms once more, and then deposited indoors, on one end of the soft-cushioned chaise next to the cushion she had so recently dropped. ‘I’ll get the brandy.’

  Bile rose in Morven’s throat and she swallowed and grimaced. ‘Not brandy, water please. Brandy will send me to be sick,’ she said as Fraser pressed her head down, his fingers cold on her nape. She gladly let him take charge. The way she felt at that moment, she would be hard-pressed to dictate anything. ‘I never drink brandy these days.’ Brandy had, she surmised, been her downfall. One glass at the games, when the whisky had run out, and she’d eagerly followed Fraser’s lead. Look where that had left her? Nowadays she rarely drank at all, unless you counted holding and twirling a half full wine glass at balls and soirees.

  Vaguely Morven heard the sound of liquid poured, and then a glass was pressed into her hand and said hand lifted to her mouth.

  ‘Drink this then. It’s only good, soft, Scottish water.’ Fraser didn’t let go of her hand or the glass as she let the welcome cool liquid slide down her dry throat. ‘Sip it slowly, don’t rush.’

  Morven had no intention of rushing. The longer she took to compose herself the longer she had to come to terms with his words and think of a reply.

  The seat of the chaise next to her dipped as Fraser sat and waited for her to look at him. Eventually, Morven decided she could shilly-shally no longer and held the empty glass out. ‘Thank you, I needed that. I’m sorry for my momentary weakness.’

  ‘Ah, love.’ Fraser took the glass and set it on the table. ‘Believe me, there is no need to apologise for anything. I imagine my news was not what you expected to hear.’ He leaned against the mantelpiece and looked down at her. Worry clouded his expression.

  ‘That, my lord, is the understatement of the year if not the decade,’ Morven said sarcastically. ‘And do not call me love.’ That sobriquet was more than one step too far at that moment. All those years ago she had thought it meant something, only to be disabused of that idea when she heard nothing from him.

  But he says he wrote. That thought made her move uneasily. Was she being too hard on him? Perhaps, but Morven didn’t want him to call her love unless it was heartfelt and meaningful. At the moment she wasn’t sure that was the case. How could it be after no contact for so long?

  ‘You a
re my love, whether you like it or not,’ Fraser said earnestly. ‘Get used to it.’

  ‘You are talking twaddle,’ Morven said crossly. ‘You don’t know me any more, if you ever did.’

  The look he gave her could only be described as devilish. ‘I will soon, one way or another.’

  The man had an answer for everything.

  ‘Oh stop it. Can you imagine the furore it would cause if you addressed me so in front of either of our parents?’ she retorted, waspishly. ‘Not to be thought of. They would have so many plots and machinations we wouldn’t know where we were.’

  ‘We can outwit them at any time. They’ll get used to it,’ he paused and said very emphatically, ‘love.’

  Morven was having none of it. How dare he assume such a thing? Very easily she suspected. Also she knew that if she did not strengthen her resolve it would happen just as he said. She must not be so lily-livered. ‘Also balderdash. Do you want to be forced to the altar?’

  ‘If we are married it won’t matter,’ Fraser pointed out sardonically. ‘What would be the point?’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘Which is why I need to go to the minister at the presbytery in Stirling and ask for advice. If I asked the local minister it would be all around Kintrain before you could say “amen”. Old Scott is not renowned for his discretion.’

  Morven scarcely heard him. Her mind was full of such scenarios of wedded, bedded, how her mama would react, how she herself would react, what on earth might be the truth that nothing registered except one thing. None of it made sense.

  ‘How can we be married?’ That was the most important point. ‘We didn’t exchange wedding vows in front of a cleric. No mamas wept into lacy handkerchiefs and no raucous males took bets on the birth of…ahhh…’ She broke off and bit her lip. That was going down a route she didn’t want to think about. ‘It, whatever it was, happened in a field at the games in between tossing the caber and the Highland fling.’ And it mattered to me. It had, she had thought on several occasions, been one of the most momentous happenings in her life. A golden moment of youth to look back on and savour. Even if for all these years she had decided it meant nothing to Fraser, it had still been something she cherished. Now though, she wondered exactly what it all meant.

  ‘No minister, I agree, but we did exchange vows,’ Fraser said, quietly. ‘Morven, I…’

  ‘Hold on.’ Her temper began to spike. ‘What vows? Marriage vows? We held hands and said…said…’ What exactly had they said? ‘We exchanged vows?’ Surely she would have remembered that, inferior brandy or not.

  Fraser smiled wryly. He seemed to do that a lot at the moment, and it was new to Morven. He was older, more serious, and she mourned the spark he seemed to have lost. Then he grinned. His eyes crinkled up at the corners and for one brief second she saw the man she had fallen in love with.

  ‘Vows?’ Morven prompted. ‘You, me and whoever?’

  ‘So it may seem.’

  Morven racked her brain, but other than enjoying the day, and holding hands, she only had the haziest of recollections of the exact proceedings of the day. ‘When do you mean? When we were at the games?’ After the brandy?

  He nodded. ‘Exactly then.’

  It didn’t make sense to Morven. ‘But that was fun surely?’ she asked in a puzzled voice. ‘That gypsy saying why not tell me your vows, and we did. Not to be taken seriously. It was all part of the atmosphere.’

  Fraser reddened. ‘So we thought.’ He didn’t look her in the eyes, but it seemed his gaze was fixed on the wall above her head.

  ‘Fraser?’ The strong, determined voice Morven had hoped for wavered and she bit her lip. That would never do. ‘Fraser Napier, what are you not telling me?’

  ‘Oh Lord.’ He pushed himself off the mantelpiece and gestured to the chair next to her. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Mind? Oh you sitting down? Of course not.’ She waited until he did so and resumed their previous conversation. ‘You were saying about vows.’

  ‘I’m an idiot.’

  Morven inclined her head and his breath came out in a long hiss. Well what did he expect? ‘I will reserve judgement until you tell me what, so far, you have been reluctant to share.’

  ‘That there was more to it than there seemed. I should have realised that. Hell, I’ve lived here all my life. I know the people, including the gypsies, and I know a fair bit about their lives, but please believe me, I also never thought it was more than a bit of fun.’ Fraser shook his head. ‘You know, let’s entertain the villagers who don’t want their fortunes told. Involve the Master of Kintrain. More fool me.’ He stroked her cheek. That tiny connection sent tingles down her spine, and Morven forced herself not to lean into his touch. She needed her wits about her, not addled by arousal.

  ‘However, fun or not,’ Fraser continued with a whimsical smile, ‘I should have paid more attention to what we did. I discovered later that in Scotland as long as you are of age and exchange vows in front of two witnesses it is considered to be a valid marriage. In honesty, I as laird in waiting should have known that.’ His disgusted tone told her what he thought of that omission to his education. ‘I thought it needed to be two witnesses chosen by the couple, not just any two people.’

  What? Morven’s jaw dropped and she pressed her fingers to her ears. He must be joking, surely? However, one look at Fraser’s set expression told her he was serious. She went over his words in her mind and grasped one salient point.

  ‘Oh… Well we have a reason this could not be valid,’ Morven said thankfully. If she ever got married it would be because she and the so far unknown man would love each other. Rules of the ton be blowed. Deliver the heir and play away was one trend she would have nothing to do with. ‘I was underage.’ Although she knew she had strong feelings for Fraser, whatever he protested, he needed to show his emotions were as engaged as hers.

  Fraser laughed. ‘Good try but not any use to us here. You were not underage in Scotland.’

  ‘But we didn’t have any witnesses,’ Morven said desperately. This was becoming more like a nightmare with every passing second. First the blow that he had written to her twice and she had received neither missive. Now she may or may not be wed. Did he want to be? Did she want to be? Not like this she didn’t. Could they get out of such an arrangement?

  ‘Fraser, you know we didn’t,’ she said in a rush, and ignored the tiny idea that told her that perhaps she might need to think very carefully over what she wanted with regards to getting out or staying in a marriage—if it was legal. ‘There was only that gypsy, and I don’t remember him saying he pronounced us man and wife or anything. He just muttered something under his breath and then told us to remember the day.’

  ‘I have a suspicion the muttering was the man and wife bit,’ Fraser said flatly. ‘The conniving devil. His wife, Beshlie, told me a week previous she knew what my future held. I dismissed it as a plea for more victuals and told her she didn’t have to pretend and I promised her a sheep without any mumbo jumbo. Beshlie laughed and said it was written in my palm. She wouldn’t say what the “it” was, just it was preordained and that was it, and to remember she had second sight. I heard when I got back from Barbados, that Tam Curtin, that’s his name, hopes all went well for us.’

  ‘You what?’ Morven stood up and faced him. This was a disaster. But you might want to think about it before you dismiss the idea out of hand. A thought hit her. ‘Oh Lord pray my mama doesn’t hear that snippet. She won’t know whether to crow or rant.’

  Fraser laughed as he pulled her down and onto his knee, and she wriggled. Was that his staff that teased her rear?

  ‘No, for the love of God, don’t jiggle about,’ he said in a strained voice. ‘Just sit as you used to for a second. No one can see us, and I need that contact.’

  ‘Anyone could enter and come across us,’ Morven pointed out prosaically and ignored the hard length trying to imprint itself onto her body. Otherwise she might roll over and accept the unspoken, and she assumed, unwitting, invitation
. ‘The door isn’t locked.’

  ‘It is you know. I locked it.’

  ‘Don’t sound so smug,’ she said crossly, although she couldn’t put any heat into her words. Five minutes of being so close to him and she was a hopeless case. ‘How did you lock it? I looked earlier and there is no key.’

  ‘I don’t need one.’ Fraser grinned and looked like the carefree man he had been the day they had spent at the games. ‘Tricks of a wild Highland youth.’

  She tried to raise one eyebrow in disbelief, failed miserably and giggled. What was the point of expending energy on staying annoyed? ‘Highland?’

  Fraser nodded and rubbed his chin over her cheek.

  ‘Ouch, stubble.’ Morven rubbed her cheek theatrically.

  ‘I’ll kiss it better.’

  He suited his actions to his words and his breath feathered over her skin before his lips touched the place he’d scraped.

  ‘I notice you didn’t question the wild bit.’ Fraser tightened his hold on her, and Morven relaxed until their bodies were plastered together.

  ‘Naturally.’ Morven slid her arm out of his embrace and patted the top of his head. ‘The wildness I can well believe. Therefore?’

  ‘The castle straddles the line between the Highlands and the rest of the country. Papa was a Highlander, Mama a southerner. I therefore have the best and worst of both peoples in my make-up.’

  Morven nodded. ‘I’d forgotten you told me that. Well then. Continue.’ She winced at her peremptory tone, but accepted it stemmed from nervousness, and hoped he would realise and accept it as such. ‘Our alleged nuptials.’

  ‘Witnesses,’ Fraser said slowly. ‘We think we didn’t have any, but in hindsight, I seem to remember seeing a couple of other people nearby, although I have no idea who. My eyes were on you. They were, I assume, waiting to do just as we did.’

  Morven’s eyes were wide and puzzled. ‘But surely they don’t count? They weren’t there for us.’