“Miss, everything is fine. You look plenty fine for dinner.”
Victoria tossed her head in indignation and rustled her skirts as she breezed past the older lady.
“My father expects perfection, you know.”
Abigail smiled humorlessly and nodded as she straightened the dress around Victoria’s full bosom and slim waist, “Aye that he does miss.”
Victoria sighed dramatically, as only a tormented young woman can, and she swished her way out the door and down the massive stone staircase into the dining room.
The table was already set by the kitchen staff, and her parents awaited her arrival before eating. Her father scowled in her direction but said nothing about her late arrival. Her mother shook her head almost imperceptibly but also kept her mouth shut.
Victoria had not realized how hungry she was until the scents from the kitchen and the table tickled her nose. The vegetable soup, homemade bread, and various accompaniments all smelled divine and she eagerly pulled her chair up. Considering her petite figure, it was amazing how much food she could actually consume.
The soup warmed her from the inside and took the chill out of the fall air. She tried to be ladylike in her dining manners, as her mother, Lydia, had carefully taught her, but everything looks so good it was hard to resist trying the smoked ham and the cheese and the pickles and the apples. Even the bread smeared with peach chutney was delicious.
“Victoria,” her mother chastened, “you keep eating like that and you will get to be as large as one of those brutish and unrefined Scot women. They are not ladies such as us.”
“But Mother,” Victoria mumbled around a mouthful of food, “I’m hungry.”
“Victoria! Please do not talk with your mouthful! That is truly barbaric!”
She stared sullenly at her plate and finished everything she had taken. Despite her mother’s strong correction of her table manners and her etiquette, she knew her father’s words would be harsher if she wasted the food he worked so hard to provide. After dinner, the kitchen help cleared the table while the small family moved into the drawing room to sit by the fire.
They resided in a modestly sized but luxuriously furnished estate home, made of stones gathered from the fields nearby and furnished with the finest possible items from London as well as more exotic locations that her father traded with. The three of them hardly had to lift a finger around the house and grounds due to the constant vigilance of the help they employed.
The yellow and orange flames licked at the blackened stones of the hearth and Victoria curled up in one of the chairs, spread a quilt over her lap, and started to practice her reading. She knew, because her parents always told her, that she was fortunate in her lifestyle. Not many women were given the gift of literacy but they thought it would fetch a more desirable husband for her if she could prove their family’s proper breeding and higher education.
She had been a wild child when she was younger, and her parents had tried everything to tame her. They were afraid that they would be saddled with an untamed daughter forever. Slowly, as the training and maturity caught up with her, she had calmed down. But every so often, her mother had to repress a smirk when she caught Victoria sticking her tongue out behind her father’s back, or when she would sneak back in from the fields with her lips stained red from tasting the fresh wild raspberries that grew by the pond.
One of the kitchen staff delivered a large mug of ale to her father and a small glass of sherry to her mother. She looked up, hopeful and expectant, but was only given a cup of tea. She screwed her lips into a sneer but accepted it anyway.
Her porcelain cheeks appeared flushed from the flickering light of the fire, and her rosy pink lips moved slightly as she practiced the large words in her book. Her delicate finger slid along the page so that she did not lose her place. Her mother smiled softly as she regarded her daughter. When she was not being intentionally difficult, she was really a sweet and beautiful young woman. Both Andrew and Lydia hoped for the best possible union when they married her off. Of course, each of them had their own definitions of what would be considered the “best” union.
Chapter Two
The Scottish winds blew down from the hills and ruffled the head of dark curls. Dylan brushed a stray curl from his eyes and tried to refocus his deep blue eyes. The target was being difficult, but he was determined to hit it. He took a deep breath, aimed his bow carefully, and let the arrow fly. With a satisfying thunk, it finally found the apple on his friend’s head.
With a crow of delighted victory, he tossed down the bow and loped across the field to claim his prize. His friend shook his head and bent over to pick up the apple and hand it to Dylan.
“You are going to kill me one of these days,” he muttered.
“I have a steady hand, my friend, and practice will help keep it that way.”
He withdrew the arrow and took a chunk out of the apple with a smile.
“Let’s go find some lunch. I don’t think this apple will hold us over.”
They strode back to the castle, clapping each other on the shoulder. It was a bright autumn day and the sun felt good on their shoulders as they passed through the vegetable garden. The rest of the group was already gathered inside and waiting impatiently at the large wooden table in the dining hall.
“About time you boys showed up! We were starving to death!”
Dylan shook his dark head and laughed at the rotund speaker, “You are in no danger of that.”
The group broke into hoots of laughter as the cook started to bring out the food. It was a simple but generous meal of smoked turkey on homemade bread with pickled carrots from the garden and more fresh apples. All of the men ate heartily, and washed it down with mugs of cider.
“What’s the plan for the afternoon?”
Dylan leaned back in his chair and scratched his reddish brown beard as he thought.
“We need to head into town soon, for supplies. Winter will be upon us before we know it. But I hate to waste such a beautiful day for a supply run. Besides, it is probably better that we set out in the morning sometime so that we are home before dark. I guess we can always go check that back field. When’s the last time we checked the flock?”
“Been a few days I think. Those sheep do have a way of wandering off,” one of the men mused.
“You mean, wandering off into someone else’s dinner table?”
“Something like that.”
Dylan grinned, “It’s hard to maintain this much land and property.”
He nodded to several of the men and bid them to check on that field. It was almost time to shear the sheep, and start working the wool for selling purposes.
“I’ve got a business arrangement that I need to see to but that meeting isn’t until tomorrow. I think I’ll take a couple of you, and go check on the food stores so we can start making a list of supplies. I have to head into town tomorrow for that meeting, so I’ll take a cart and a couple of you so that we can just do it all at once.”
They all nodded and pushed back from the table. One group headed to the field on foot and the other headed towards the barn.
The food stores seemed ample enough, but the clan was large and would need a lot of sustenance through the upcoming winter. Dylan, as the only son of the head of the clan, had been left in charge of the family when his father died. He had shouldered the responsibility well, and the rest of the family seemed agreeable when the authority had landed with him.
His long legs took huge strides as they approached the barn, and his broad shoulders seemed to fill the doorway as he strolled inside. They had been collecting the proceeds of the gardens through the spring and summer, and the fishing off the coast had been fruitful that season. The potatoes would keep for quite a while, most of the vegetables had been pickled for preservation, and the fish was packed in salt for curing. The chickens had been laying well through the warm months, and having them in the barn gave the family a decent chance of eggs through the winter. They would
add some basics from the stores in town such as rice and coffee. The winter meals would not be quite as interesting as those from the growing season, however it should be enough to see them through.
Dylan was an unusual landowner, since he tried his best to look out for the peasants that surrounded his estate. He did not offer much from their own stores, but he tried to make sure they had enough of their own food to survive. He rarely took their food but sometimes requested their assistance in maintaining his own land.
Everyone finished their tasks for the day, and after a supper that closely resembled their lunch, the men shared a jug of cider before bedding down for the evening.
The next day, Dylan headed out to town with a few of his clansmen so that they could make the meeting and get supplies. He declined to mention that the meeting was to arrange a wife for himself. It would end up being an excellent business pairing for trading with the English, and he hoped that the daughter was at least pleasant to look at.
Chapter Three
Andrew set out that same morning, for the same town. He and Lydia had briefly discussed the arrangement but even if Lydia had disagreed with the idea, Andrew was going to follow through. He did not like the idea of marrying his daughter off to some brutish and barbaric Scotsman, but the trading potential was more than he could resist. The Scot wool would fetch a nice price at the market and his grain was much heartier than what they could grow up there.
With Victoria’s penchant for tantrums and disobedience, both Andrew and Lydia agreed that it would be best not to mention the arrangement until it was a done deal. They both knew that she had been looking forward to a cultured husband, preferably in London, with the finest furnishings and parties that England had to offer. Neither of them was ready to face her reaction when they told her she was going to be marrying a Scotsman in the north. But he knew that none of the men in his circles would have much to do with his flighty and unpredictable daughter.
Andrew, and his private guard, arrived in town about an hour before the meeting was to happen. He intended to arrive first and settled into a comfortable chair in the pub. His breakfast had worn off, so he ordered lunch and dug heartily into the beef and barley soup that the servant delivered. As he finished, he hoped it would not be considered rude to have already eaten. If the other man indicated he wanted food, Andrew figured he could always order something else.
Andrew looked up with a start to see the man standing over him. He was enormous, with a full beard that obscured what looked like a strong jawline. His teeth gleamed brightly when he smiled, and Andrew stood to shake the man’s hand. Through the window he could see several others that looked as though they could be related.
“I understand I come with good references,” the Scot boomed.
“Yes sir, I hope I do as well.”
“For business, yes. For the rest of the deal, I’ve heard mixed reviews.”
Andrew shook his head, “That girl will be the death of me yet.”
Dylan laughed, “I can break a horse, I can train this daughter of yours.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Andrew muttered as he shook his head.
“Shall we eat while we talk?” Dylan offered.
“Certainly,” Andrew replied.
They ordered up more soup, and the servant was smart enough not to react when Andrew placed the request. At Dylan’s request, the server also delivered two large mugs of ale.
They settled into their chairs and their meal while they hashed out the details of the business portion of their arrangement. Andrew knew that the business deal was going to net him a tidy sum, and he hoped that it would do the same for the Scotsman. He was not sure what would happen should the grain turn sour. By the time the mugs and bowls were empty, it was time for the other portion of the agreement.
Andrew sighed and rubbed his temples as he thought about the entire marriage arrangement. This Scotsman looked as though he would snap him in half should Victoria turn out to be a bigger pain in the ass than he was prepared to deal with. But the trade negotiation hinged on the promised wife, and he needed the business side to work. Plus, Victoria was not getting any younger and none of the appropriate men in their area would have anything to do with the hot-headed blonde woman.
They shook on the deal and parted ways. Andrew dreaded dinner that evening, when he would have to tell Victoria about her upcoming wedding. She had been raised with the understanding that her marriage would be arranged, but he knew she never dreamed of moving so far from home to live with her Scot husband.
Andrew nodded to Lydia when he arrived home, “It is done.”
Lydia’s lips turned up in an echo of a smile, but her eyes showed no humor. “You will have to tell her, I will have nothing to do with that, and I take no responsibility for her reaction.”
At the dinner table, Andrew broke the news. Victoria shook her blonde head at Andrew and looked down at her plate petulantly. She seethed with a combination of anger and confusion and disgust. She could hardly believe what her father had done. He had ruined her life. When he had told her, she made sure, at the top of her lungs, to tell him of that fact but he could not be swayed in his decision.
That night, as Abigail helped her get ready for bed, the girl’s anger had dissolved into depression. Abigail tried to soothe her but there was no peace to be had. Abigail herself was a little horrified at the idea of her tiny charge being manhandled and controlled by a boorish Scotsman, but what could she do. She hoped that she would be allowed to travel with the girl, but it was not the time to ask.
Chapter Four
Victoria had to travel within the next few weeks if the group was going to safely get home before any winter weather snuck in. She was greatly relieved to find out that not only was Abigail going to travel with them, but she would be staying in Scotland with her even after the wedding. Abigail was grateful as well; she had no family to speak of and would no doubt lose her job once Victoria was out of the house. It was now up to the Scotsman whether she would be retained.
Victoria’s trousseau was completed, including an ivory lace wedding dress and matching slippers. She pouted silently throughout the entire preparation, and the family bore it grimly. Abigail tried to reassure her that it was all for the best, but Victoria was inconsolable.
Finally, the carriage and additional carts were loaded with blankets and food for the journey. The ladies were layered in their warmest clothing and bundled into the carriage for protection from the elements. The men, including Andrew, would ride on horseback for most of the trip. They took with them two extra horses, should any of the animals get injured or exhausted on the trip. Andrew, Lydia, Victoria, Abigail, and several private guards set out north with the intention of returning in a couple of weeks.
As the caravan pulled off of the estate grounds, Victoria looked around sadly. She did not know when she would see her home again, and it was possible she would never again step foot on the place that raised her. Instead, she thought bitterly, I am being shipped off like a cow to slaughter by my own father.
Lydia could see the unhappiness on her daughter’s face, and she patted her hand to reassure her as best she could.
“I know, m’dear, this will be hard. I was terrified when my parents sent me to your father. It did not end up so badly. I’m sure your father knows what he is doing.”
“Of course, Mother. He knows exactly what he is doing. He is getting a trade partner and all it cost him was his only child.”
Victoria turned away and stared out the window as the pond with the raspberries drifted past her view. Not only was she bidding her home and family goodbye, but she was also going to have to endure a rather painful journey to destinations unknown. Abigail patted her knee but she did not acknowledge the older woman.
The English countryside faded into the Scottish hills and she tried not to stare at the bedraggled peasant farmers and their mud huts.
On the other side of the journey, Dylan made his own preparations. The clansmen had been surprised b
y his announcement of the impending wedding, but were not in much position to argue. It seems that Dylan had made a wise business decision, and he was going to get a wife as a bonus. They knew that he would not, could not, stay unmarried forever, but the idea of mingling their bloodline with that of an Englishwoman was unnerving.
It was not that the lines had never been sullied like that; it was just rarely optional. It was not an uncommon practice for English marauders to attack a Scottish wedding and have their way with the bride on her wedding night. It was nearly unheard of for a Scotsman to take an English bride voluntarily.
Dylan’s female servants had prepared the master suite so that it was more appropriate to receive the new woman. The house had long been a male domain, since Dylan’s mother had died in childbirth and his father never remarried. He had given them nearly carte blanche to do what they wanted, and they were excited to have a woman to care for. They giggled together at the whispers of babies in the near future.
An extra trip into town had been made, to stock up for a wedding feast. The bride would be arriving with her parents and one attendant, and the clan wanted to make sure they made a good impression. Dylan and his group knew very well what their reputation must be, and it would be good to set those English on their heels for once.
The day before the predicted arrival, the food was finished and the ale was tested. Repeatedly. The grounds were cleaned as well as the castle.
He had not mentioned it to anyone, but Dylan found himself getting more and more nervous as the hours crept by. He was not inexperienced with women, but he was very inexperienced in keeping one happy for more than one evening. This lady was going to spend every night with him for the rest of their lives and that idea was daunting to say the least. He had not had to answer to anyone in a long time.
Finally, the morning came after a fitful night of very little sleep. He stood in front of the polished mirror of their bedroom and tried to trim his beard and tame his hair. One of the house servants brought him his clothing and a brand-new knee-length leather coat.
The Captive Bride (Scottish Highlander Romance) Page 11