Cross the Ocean

by Holly Bush

  “I’m the butler, sir. Not a valet.”

  Fred eyed him as Jenkins stared back. “Goody for you. Where’s this whiskey you’re talking about, Burroughs?”

  Elizabeth escorted Gertrude to her old room. Elizabeth had a hundred questions, but Gert was sound asleep before she could ask. She joined Anthony and Gert’s uncle in the study.

  “So Blake didn’t get the letter I sent?” Anthony asked.

  “Only letter I know about is the one from the Scot,” Fred said.

  “But you did say Blake left a day ahead of you,” Elizabeth asked as she seated herself.

  Fred grimaced. “His sense of direction ain’t too keen, though. Let’s hope Will leads the way.”

  Anthony tapped his mouth and stared out the window in thought. “If Blake received McDonald’s letter and not mine, I believe he would have gone straight to McDonald’s home before coming here.”

  “Might a done that,” Fred agreed.

  Elizabeth’s eyes darted. “This is a terrible situation.” She stared at her husband.

  “Sanders’ll git here shortly,” Fred said. “How far out a the way is this castle of McDonald’s?”

  Anthony swallowed and stared at Fred. “I doubt in time.”

  “Melinda is to marry Connor McDougal, three days from now, at Blake’s home,” Elizabeth said softly.

  Fred waved his hand. “Tell ‘em to hold off till her father gets here. Couple of days, a week at most ain’t gonna make no never mind. Sanders had hisself in a righteous tizzy. He’s the papa. He ought to at least meet the boy ‘fore the deed’s done.”

  “I think the wedding should proceed as planned,” Anthony said.

  “What’s the rush?” Fred asked. No one answered his query. His eyes opened wide. “Yer not telling me you let another innocent slip through yer fingers?”

  Anthony looked away. Elizabeth explained. “Melinda has indicated the wedding should be done without delay. Either that or she’ll run away.”

  “Can’t none a you boys keep yer parts in yer pants till the preacher gets here? Hell’s fire,” Fred said.

  Anthony leaned forward to lean on his knees. “We aren’t sure if the ah… the ah.”

  “The seed’s been planted?” Fred asked.

  “She won’t tell us for sure,” Elizabeth hurried to say. “She’s using our ignorance to get what she wants, especially before her father arrives. And she wants Connor McDougal.”

  Fred couldn’t stop himself. He laughed. “Oh, Sanders. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when the shoe’s on the other foot. He’ll be hoppin’ mad, that’s fer sure.”

  “That brings us to another question. We saw clearly Gertrude is with child. How are things with her and Blake?” Anthony asked.

  Fred sat back in his chair and wiped his brow. “Right hard to say. Now before Sanders got to the ranch, my Gert was a mess. Ranting and cryin’ about the silliest things. Drove me and the hands near crazy. Then my Indian friend, White Cloud, found Sanders and Benson before they could find us and hog-tied and delivered them to the ranch.” Fred looked up and smiled. “Fine sight, I thought. White Cloud knew it was our fight. Knew me and the boys were a waiting to kill him. Sanders marched right through us, blustering and shouting. Said he didn’t come all the way without talking to her. Will had punched his Daddy a good one, and Sanders just stood there staring at Gert, with blood running down his face. Fine sight, I’d say.”

  “William hit Blake?” Anthony asked.

  Fred nodded. “Might a cracked his jaw. He clicked when he talked from then on. But ole Gert, she just stood there staring at him like she ain’t never seen nothin’ so wonderful in all her life. Told him she was worried and she hated him. But never stopped staring.”

  Anthony shook his head. Elizabeth smiled.

  “Him and his boy seemed to come to friendly after that. He goes by Will now. They had a long talk. Sanders was nearly torn in two fer leaving Gert and getting home to his daughter.” Fred sighed and frowned. “Then Gert goes and tells Sanders she’s marrying Luke Matson. One of my hands at the ranch. Sanders nearly croaked when she said it. Took off before sunrise after scaring the shit outta Matson. Don’t think that boy’ll ever be the same.”

  “He left me a letter,” Gert said from the doorway.

  Elizabeth hurried to Gert’s side and helped her sit down. “I know how exhausting those last weeks are. And with you traveling yet. You need your rest.”

  “I couldn’t sleep long. I’ll be fine, Elizabeth.” Gert dropped her head. “Especially after I talk to Blake.”

  “We think he went to Scotland. He didn’t receive my letter,” Anthony said.

  Elizabeth explained the situation at Blake’s home.

  “Blake was in a fine fit when he left. Worrying so about Melinda. But if what she’s hinting at is true, they need to marry right away. What does her mother say?” Gert asked.

  “Ann is content with it all. She feels Melinda has found her soul mate,” Elizabeth said.

  “I hope she gets what she wants,” Gert said.

  “Knowing Melinda, she will,” Anthony added.

  “It’s a love match, I believe,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Certainly not who her mother or father envisioned for her, but a love match still the same.”

  “Then she should fight for him,” Gert said.

  “Is that what you’re doing?” Elizabeth asked. The men stood and stepped out of the room and Elizabeth waited till she and Gert were alone. “Are you fighting for Blake?”

  Gert turned her head and pushed out her chin under trembling lips. “I deserve him. I love him. And he told me he loves me in his letter.”

  “Of course, you deserve him, Gertrude. Who ever said you didn’t?” Elizabeth asked softly.

  My father, Gert thought. “I won’t let Blake keep a mistress. I won’t stand for it.”

  “I don’t think he will. It sounds to me as though Blake has come to realize some things. Important things.”

  “We’ll see. I’m worried how he’ll react when he sees me. Chasing him back home when he’s got so much on his mind with his children.”

  “You have to trust him, Gert. I wouldn’t have said the word trust in the same sentence with Blake’s name a few months ago. But you have to listen to your heart. You know, Gert, deep down inside if he’s telling you the truth. What is your heart telling you?” Elizabeth asked.

  And that was the crux of the problem. Her heart was screaming to love him and trust him. Her mind was building a wall against more hurt. But if she didn’t take this chance on Blake, she would spend the rest of her life with regret. Wondering if he had, in fact, changed. If the love he proclaimed he felt for her was enough to make him stare into her eyes alone. Fear of regret was one of the reasons she’d boarded a ship to find him. She had best battle that fear. Take a chance on the only man to stir her insides. The only man she’d ever wanted to talk to, to share dreams with, to make love to.

  “I want to talk to him so badly, Elizabeth. There’s so much I want to say. My heart’s brought me this far. I won’t give up now.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean McDonald is from home? Where in the hell is he?” Blake shouted in the rain. The nearly one hundred-year-old housekeeper would not let Will and Blake into McDonald’s castle. Burly Scotsman stood on each side of Blake while he ranted and raved over thunder.

  “Don’t trust no Sassenach with knowing where my laird is. Bad enough he done and married one,” the gnarled woman said.

  “I’m your laird’s son by marriage,” Will said. “I want to know this minute where my mother has gone. Speak, woman.”

  Blake stepped back and watched Will take over. He glared in superiority over his son’s shoulder.

  “You the fool lad went off to America?” the big man beside Blake asked.

  Will nodded.

  “Let us by, Ernestine,” the man said. Blake and Will followed into the foyer of the castle, shaking water from their hair and coats. “I’m t
he McDonald’s cousin. Fitzroy McDonald. I’m in charge here while he’s gone.”

  “Then pray tell me,” Blake said, tired and exasperated, “where is my daughter Melinda and her mother?”

  Fitzroy McDonald slapped Blake on the back and guided him to a room filled with the soft glow of a fire. “Sit down, Sanders. You’ll need a nip of something to hear this.”

  It took all of Fitzroy McDonald’s arguments and Will’s pleas for a night in a bed to convince Blake to rest their horses and themselves.

  “Those clothes you are wearing are soaked through, and your mounts near exhaustion. Won’t do your Melinda any good for you to break your neck on the trip. What about that outfit of yours? Is this what they wear in America?” Fitzroy said and leaned forward to study Blake’s Levi’s and camel jacket. And the gun belt tied down around his thigh.

  “You’re wearing a skirt. No need to question my attire,” Blake said and leaned back in his chair.

  Fitzroy blustered and Will spoke. “This is typical American garb. Works quite nicely when breaking broncos.”

  Three other men slipped into the room to stand behind Fitzroy. “Tell us your tales of America.”

  Will’s face lit up and he proceeded to entertain the Scotsmen. Blake stared glumly at the fire, as the words Will spoke conjured up Gertrude’s face. Her sunsets. Her horses. Her round stomach. Luke Matson. And now his sweet, innocent Melinda was sullied by a brawny man such as these men listening to Will with rapt attention. He was too late. Fitzroy had told them Melinda did not say she was expecting but that every look that passed between the two indicated they had been intimate. He had been away chasing unattainable dreams while Melinda was seduced under her mother’s nose. Blake was broken. The woman he loved loved another and the daughter he loved slept with a Scotsman. He missed Gertrude. Blake stared into the fire, hearing the hum of Will’s stories and fell asleep.

  Blake and Will were on their horses mid-morning.

  “We could have left earlier, Will,” Blake said as they trotted away from McDonald’s home. “You should have woken me.”

  Will shrugged. “You’re tired, Father. You need your rest.” He turned and stared at Blake. “You called out for Miss Finch while you slept.”

  Here was another mystery of life unfolding that Blake would’ve preferred to not see. His son was caring for him. Soon his children would be spooning gruel into his toothless mouth.

  “No doubt I was cursing the day I met the woman,” Blake said.

  “Uncle Fred said she loved you, and she admitted it,” Will said.

  “What are you talking about?” Blake said as he kneed his horse to a faster pace.

  “The day Miss Finch said she was to marry Luke Matson. I left the kitchen and saw you.” Will turned a frightened face his father’s way. “I could have sworn you were crying, so I leaned back near the window. That’s when I heard Miss Finch and Mr. Hastings talking.”

  Blake blew a breath. “I was blubbering like Donald when Mrs. Wickham smacks his bottom. She said she loved me?”

  “No, sir. Not in those words, but Mr. Hastings said she did and she agreed.”

  If what Will heard were true, maybe there was hope for him and Gertrude. Ah, no use wishing for what won’t be. She is married to Luke Matson by now. He would be the one to talk to her and hold Gertrude’s child. The anger bubbling in Blake’s inside made his mouth twitch. The thought of another man holding and kissing her, teaching his son to ride in not so many years was more than he could take. Blake found himself furious. He was angry and jealous and could not shake it. He should have stayed and fought for what was his. Gertrude was his, just as surely as the babe she carried was his son. And he had let her go. Everything in his life had come easily until Gertrude. And the one thing that required effort, forced his mind to admit emotions, required humility and strength and blared his weaknesses, was the one thing he should have fought for with his dying breath. He had allowed his love for Gertrude to be defeated.

  * * *

  Ann McDonald insisted Gert and Uncle Fred stay at Blake’s home with Elizabeth and Anthony for Melinda’s wedding. Gert wondered how she’d feel around Blake’s former wife, but she admitted to herself the woman was charming. Ann had hugged her, with tears in her eyes and thanked Gert for taking care of William. Angus McDonald was cordial and took Uncle Fred to see Blake’s stables. Gert was tired most of the time, and her back hurt so bad she’d thought she would die. Elizabeth and Ann exchanged glances and told Gert her time was coming and soon.

  Melinda Sanders and Connor McDougal stared into each other’s eyes with rarely a thought or a glance at anyone else. The young Scotsman bowed low over Gert’s hand.

  “’Tis my pleasure, Miss Finch, to make your acquaintance,” Conner said. His large arm wound itself about Melinda’s waist.

  Melinda hugged Gert, and a serene smile lit her face. “I’m to be married tomorrow, Miss Finch. It seems so long ago we all rode to London for my come-out.”

  Gert couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “I still think you’re a bit young to know your mind, Melinda. But he’s handsome enough, that’s for sure.”

  Melinda tilted her eyes up at Connor. “The handsomest man in the world.”

  Connor tilted the girl’s chin. “And the prettiest lass.”

  Melinda’s eyes rolled dreamily. She spoke to Gert without turning her face from her beloved. “Age doesn’t matter so much, Miss Finch. I know in my heart Connor is the man for me, now and forever.”

  It was all Gert could do to not cry. The young couple before her reminded Gert of a fairy princess and her prince. Their love reminded her of Blake.

  “Your father is worried sick over you,” Gert said.

  Melinda’s gaze dropped. “I’ll admit I’ll be glad if we’re married before Father gets here. I couldn’t take hearing him shout about Connor’s family and my title and duty.”

  “You may be surprised, Melinda. Your father is a different man than the one that left not so long ago.”

  “I wish I could believe that,” the girl said softly, echoing Gert’s own fears with her words.

  The preparations continued for Melinda’s wedding. Blake’s forty-bedroom home was filled to capacity. The ballroom was decorated. Melinda’s dress nipped and tucked while Gert sat, anchored by her middle, and played with Elizabeth’s daughter, Sarah. Gert was having trouble even getting her breath her stomach was so large. She waddled and fought Ann and Elizabeth over an outfit.

  “Pregnant woman do not attend balls and such here in London. I’ll stay in my room or go to the nursery and play with Sarah,” Gert pleaded.

  They ignored her and the seamstress added a bolt of material, Gert figured, to a ready-made gown to cover her burgeoning stomach. The fabric was a fine gold color and made her hair look darker. Gert pinched her cheeks and noticed her eyes did look greener against the hue of the fabric. She may as well look nice, she conceded. If she didn’t have her baby in the middle of dinner, she could at least watch the dancers, and tap her foot to the music. Ann had a full orchestra contracted for the wedding supper to be accompanied by bagpipes from Connor’s clan. The wedding should prove to be the grandest thing Gert had ever attended. Uncle Fred, Anthony and even Angus McDonald fussed over her, always asking if she needed anything. Even as she stared at the door of Blake’s home, one of them would pat her arm, help her to her feet, and tell her Blake wasn’t here yet.

  Nearly two hundred people crammed the chapel on Blake’s grounds, some standing outside near open windows. Melinda looked like a fairy princess in a gossamer ivory gown. Her husband stared at her with such intensity; Gert feared Melinda’s flowers would wilt. The two embraced in a heated, lengthy kiss interrupted by Angus McDonald’s cough. And still Blake had not arrived. His daughter had married without him, and Gert knew Blake would be crushed. Anthony and Angus McDonald had walked Melinda down the aisle in Blake’s stead. It would have been Blake’s right to give his daughter away. But Gert could not fault everyone’s actions
. The wedding needed done and done now.

  The wedding meal revealed a full complement of titled English peerage and Scottish royalty. A rich contingent of plaids adorned lord’s waists and draped their wives shoulders. Bright waistcoats and embroidered silk dresses denoted some of England’s finest families. Gertrude watched the goings on with interest. She was certain only Ann McDonald’s charm as a hostess and her mother, Lady Katherine’s glare, kept swords from being drawn. Each group made subtle comments about the other’s strange dress or traditions. But Melinda’s mother fluttered from group to group, allaying tempers and smoothing ruffles until she had, to Gert’s amazement, convinced each and every person that they were the most important guest at the wedding.

  Donald Sanders and the Scottish guests his age, with Mrs. Wickham’s grandson, Malcolm, were busy climbing to the tree house and sailing boats. Gert watched out a long window and thought back to the first time Blake had kissed her while the boys climbed that ladder. Even now, the memory sent a shiver down her spine. Uncle Fred wandered around the mansion picking up priceless works of art and shaking his head. But she knew he was having a grand time. He and Angus McDonald had been holed up with Blake’s grooms and trainers for two days. He begrudgingly admitted Sanders knew horseflesh. Quite a concession from her uncle.

  The guests had been led to Blake’s grand ballroom, and Gert watched from a chair near the door to the servant’s entrance as Melinda and Connor waltzed for the first time as man and wife. Melinda had been handed through divine interference or fate or love from the arms of her father to the arms of the man she would spend her life with. To everyone’s surprise, Melinda had announced she had no intention of living in England. Her husband’s land was in Scotland, and she was eager to take her place as mistress of his home. Ann had tried to convince Melinda to live in one of the many homes belonging to the Wexford family, that certainly her father would present them one as a wedding gift. Servants were established and routine was in order that would ease Melinda’s change in role from daughter to wife. The girl would have none of it. Melinda assured her mother she would do fine with a small staff, and would oversee household duties herself. Melinda admitted she had much to learn about Connor’s family and history, and if she were to be the wife he deserved, she had best learn it from the McDougal clan. Her husband said she was stubborn and a perfect wife for him. He would do whatever she wished, but couldn’t be happier Melinda wanted to live at his home.