She gripped the wool fabric of her cloak with her gloved hands. Please, Lord. My child needs a father. And I need Jamie.
He was almost in sight. The gelding’s black flanks and Jamie’s voluminous blue greatcoat darted among the trees, teasing her eye. She started toward the house, hurrying along the walk as quickly as her heavy cloak and heavier womb would allow.
She could see Jamie now. His head was held high. His hat was in his hand, waving. His voice carried over the wind. “Leana! Leana!”
Grasping her skirts, she began running toward him, calling his name, tears choking her voice. Oh, my dear husband!
Jamie dismounted before Hastings had come to a full stop and covered the distance between them. Before she could catch her breath, he stole it from her and swept her into his arms. “Leana! My love, my bride.”
She clung to his neck. “Can it be true? Has the kirk session agreed?”
His words were muffled against her cloak, but she heard every one. “You are mine, Leana, and I am yours. Always.”
My Jamie. Truly mine. She stanched her tears against his shoulder and waited for the earth to stop spinning. Or was that him, swinging her round in a circle?
“Jamie, please!” she managed to say, laughing. “Kindly put me down, dear man, or the child will come too soon.”
He lowered her at once, stepping back with a look of concern. “Och, lass! How could I be so careless?”
Leana pressed her hand to her heart, which was beating a merry pace. “No need to apologize.” She looked into his eyes, wanting to assure him. “I have never felt more cared for in all of my days.”
“Ah.” His worried expression vanished, and something else took its place. A certain light in his eyes, a sly curve to his generous mouth. A look she remembered well and had feared she might never see again. “ ’Tis my job to care for you, lass.” Jamie pulled her closer. “ ’Tis voice was both tender and rough. “ ’Tis my privilege to provide for you, to see to your comfort. To love you as your husband.”
His gaze landed on her mouth. Since proposing, Jamie had kissed her hand, her cheek, her brow. But he had not kissed her lips, not since that evening long ago in the bothy at Auchengray when they were still husband and wife.
He slowly leaned down, then paused, as if awaiting her permission.
Leana closed her eyes and lifted her mouth, granting it.
Their lips touched. Warmth seeped through her, as if she were standing before a stack of glowing peat. His mouth fitted perfectly to hers. Familiar and forgotten sensations sang through her limbs.
Yet it was the kiss of a gentleman, not a lover. Of a betrothed, not a bridegroom. She understood and was not disappointed. On the contrary, she was thrilled. To be desired and yet honored was the greatest gift of all.
When their lips parted, he smiled down at her. “Passion must wait, lass, until we are wed.”
She glanced down at their bairn. “A bit longer than that, I’m afraid.”
His deep laugh made her shiver beneath her warm cloak. “I can be a patient man, Leana, when ’tis required. Though consider this fair warning: Once we are wed, I will kiss you however I please.”
“Aye.” She hid her smile in the double collar of his greatcoat. Please.
Leana was waiting when Jamie returned from kirk the next Sabbath afternoon, still harboring a vague fear someone might have protested their union when the banns were read.
“The parishioners raised their collective eyebrows,” Jamie reported moments after walking through Glentrool’s door, “but none raised their hands. Two more Sundays, and all will be settled. Come the twenty-third of November, you will be my wife.”
“Then let me practice my wifely duties.” Leana led him from the entrance hall into the library, where she had a blazing fire in the hearth and a pot of hot chocolate on his desk, whisked from the kitchen the moment she heard his voice on the lawn. The day was raw with a biting wind from the north. Leana warmed his icy cheeks with her palms, taking the cold into her hands even as she delighted in the rough feel of his beard against her skin.
He smiled down at her, still wearing his greatcoat. “Two weeks and two days, my love.” Jamie had chosen a Tuesday so their wedding guests would not be required to journey on the Sabbath, no doubt thinking of Evan and Judith coming from Sorbie. Since Leana could not travel to the kirk, Reverend Moodie would come to Glentrool to perform the marriage service and bring the bride stool with him.
Leana reversed her hands so the warmer backs now pressed against his face. “I have started your waddin sark.” A brides tasks included sewing her betrothed a shirt for their wedding day. She’d fashioned Jamie’s shirt from a bolt of fine cambric unearthed from his mother’s sewing kist. “I’ve also cut out my blue gown,” she told him. “Though once the child is born, I’ll need to restyle it.”
“Blue, is it?” Jamie’s smile broadened.
They both knew the auld rhyme. If blue, ’tis love true. “You may recognize the fabric when you see it. Rose bought it for me in Gatehouse of Fleet.” Leana paused, letting a ripple of sorrow wash over her. She could speak of Rose more easily now but never without missing her. “Later my sister confessed she’d used some of our father’s silver to buy my fabric.”
“ ’Tis only fitting.” Jamie lifted her hands from his face and kissed each one in turn. “The bride’s father is responsible for providing his daughter’s wedding gown. Good for Rose.”
Leana did not intend to use a tailor but would sew her gown herself with loving stitches and fond memories of the day she and Rose had shopped in the village. Though blue was an especially fine color for a wedding gown, Leana had chosen it primarily to include her sister in some way. Were theirs a June wedding, she would have filled the house with roses in her sister’s memory. But there were no blooms to be found in November gardens. Only holly and fir branches to brighten the rooms and add a sylvan scent.
Leana helped Jamie off with his coat and seated him at his desk. “Enjoy your chocolate while it’s hot. Our cold Sabbath meal awaits us on the sideboard in the dining room whene’er you choose.”
Instead, he slipped his arm round her waist and drew her beside him, resting his hand tentatively on their child, whose actions at the moment were so marked that even Jamie couldn’t miss seeing them. Once such attentions would have embarrassed her beyond bearing. But this was Jamie, the husband who’d rushed into Ian’s birthing room moments after their son was born and knew all there was to know about her body. If feeling his child kick against his hand gave Jamie peace of mind, even pleasure, she would not deny him.
Looking down at the wonder on his face brought a lump to her throat. Jamie was anxious to see this child safely delivered. “I am afraid one of the wedding customs will have to be put aside,” she said, lightly stroking his hair. “I cannot flit for seven days before the wedding.” Like Rose did to Aunt Meg’s.
His brow darkened. “I do not intend to let you out of my sight. Your confinement has begun, lass.”
“I pray I’ll still be permitted to write letters,” she teased him. “I’ve already sent posts to Neda at Kingsgrange and Aunt Meg at Burnside.”
“Have you indeed?” Jamie pressed one hand into the small of her back, rubbing circles in the very spot she needed it most. “I have written a few letters myself. Including one to my Uncle Lachlan.”
Her bairn kicked especially hard, as if equally surprised at the news. On Jeanie Wilson’s last visit, the midwife had told Leana the child would arrive before St. Andrew’s Day. ’Twill not be a December bairn, mem. I can tell ye that. Leana felt the child turning yet again.
Unaware of her distractions, Jamie continued, “When we parted ways at Gatehouse, I made a pledge to your father: ‘I will have no wife but your daughter.’ ”
“Oh …” Leana understood. He meant Rose.
“Yet I did not mention his daughter by name. The Almighty stilled my tongue.” He stood and guided her toward their supper. “He kenned what the future held, Leana, e
ven when we could not.”
Before he opened the door into the hall, Jamie touched his lips to hers once more. A longer kiss, brimming with promise. “The best is yet to come, my bonny bride.”
Ninety
And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him.
GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON
Jamie was stationed on the lawn to welcome his arriving guests yet could not resist glancing up at the sitting room window. Leana was just down the hall, he knew, being dressed by Eliza. He had not spoken with her all morning. A wedding custom, strictly enforced. Ivy had stood guard at the bottom of the stair, cautioning him, “Ye canna see the bride, Mr. McKie. ’Tis not done.”
There was some benefit to be found: If he could not go up the stair, Leana could not come down. When the gardener from Bargaly House arrived earlier with the roses Jamie had purchased, the flowers were arranged throughout the first floor rooms without Leana appearing and spoiling his surprise.
The expense was considerable; the look on her face would be worth every shilling.
Vases of roses in every hue—pale pink, creamy white, dusty rose, amber yellow, purplish red—filled the house with color, defying the gray November skies. Leana had mentioned in passing how she wished they might have roses for the wedding. Now they did—every stem in Bargaly’s hothouse. Dozens upon dozens, with every thorn removed at his request.
“Leuk, Ian!” Annabel strolled up, his son in her capable hands. “ ’Tis yer faither, all dressed for the waddin.”
Jamie straightened the lad’s wrinkled coat, another of Leana’s creations, and smoothed back the boy’s wayward hair. “I should have sent my valet to your room, young man.” He smiled at Annabel, lest she take offense. She’d done her best; Ian was simply his father’s son, easily rumpled. “Do not stray far, lass. Leana will want her son where she can see him.”
“Oo aye, she said the verra same thing.” Annabel stepped aside as another contingent of guests rode up, attended by two lads from the stables. Every pair of hands at Glentrool was hard at work this day.
At least the weather was cooperative. The sky was the color of a newly minted shilling, a single wash of silver high above them. Cold but dry, the air bore no threat of rain or snow, a boon for those coming some distance.
“Brother!”
Jamie looked up to find Evan dismounting, his face ruddier than ever from the long ride north. The two men clasped hands, then embraced, slapping each others backs. Jamie still marveled at their reconciliation. How pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.
“Sorry to have left Judith at home, but she’s not in a traveling way just now.” Evan’s grin was anything but subtle. “I’ll be a father again come May. And you will have your second child … ah …”
“Any second,” Jamie finished for him. Only yestreen Leana had cautioned him that the babe could come sooner than they’d expected. Not December, but late November. He did not voice his deepest fears or let her see them in his eyes. Keep her safe, Lord.
Jamie drew his thoughts back to the present and the blithe occasion at hand. “I’m glad you’ve come, Evan.” He gestured toward the front door. “You’ll find a seat waiting for you in the drawing room.” The brothers parted with a pledge to speak at length before day’s end.
Jamie scanned the road, watching for two invited guests in particular. They should have reached Monnigaff yestreen by way of mail coach on the route from Carlisle to Portpatrick. He’d sent sufficient silver for their passage, as well as a letter to their employer, requesting they be released from their duties for a week and enclosing enough silver to ease their employer’s loss of their services. Now he could only wait and watch for them.
It was noon when Reverend Moodie appeared, his horse pulling a small cart with the bride stool. He pretended to scowl, with little success. “You’ll be charged for this, you ken.”
Jamie laughed as he reached in his purse for the necessary coins.
“To be honest, I’m ashamed to take it,” the reverend admitted, even as he pocketed the silver. “We received a most generous offering in our collection box a few month’s ago.” Reverend Moodie eyed him with amusement. “Indeed, that sack of gold showed up the very Sunday you arrived in Monnigaff, Mr. McKie.”
“What a strange coincidence,” Jamie murmured, directing two servants to unload the small pew used only for weddings. “You will find all in readiness for you, sir. Kindly follow the bride stool into the drawing room.”
The flow of guests increased as one o’ the clock drew nigh. Apparently no one in the parish intended to miss such a scandalous event, however much they might disapprove.
Finally Jamie saw them. His long-awaited guests walking toward him on the hard-packed dirt road. A lanky man and a copper-headed woman. Dressed in their best Sabbath clothes. Grinning like brownies.
“Duncan!” he called out, not caring how undignified he looked hastening across the lawn to greet a pair of servants. “Neda, welcome!” He embraced each one in turn, his throat squeezed tight as a fist.
Duncan’s eyes were bright with tears as he handed his handkerchief to Neda, who dabbed at her cheeks. “Ye were kind tae send the silver, Mr. McKie. The laird was most impressed.”
“It was good of the man to let you come. I ken you’ll be missed at Kingsgrange.” Jamie threw his arms round their shoulders and led them toward the loch. “As we’ve not much time, my plan is thus: Wait on the pier and watch for Leana to join me at the door. Then you shall stroll up and surprise her, aye?”
When they were settled on a stone bench, Neda’s blithe expression grew more sober. “Mr. McKie, ’tis not the day for sad thochts, but I canna neglect me duties. Our hearts were sair at the news of Rose’s passing. She was a dear lass, and we ken ye baith luved her verra much.”
“Aye.” Jamie’s gaze met hers, grateful for her sympathy. “We will always love our Rose.”
“It maun be said, what ye’re doin’ is richt.” Duncan gripped his arm. “Dinna let some foolish soul tell ye itherwise. Leana is the wife God meant ye tae have.”
Jamie laughed in spite of the tightness in his chest. “You and my father share the same opinion.” He consulted his watch, then glanced over his shoulder. “When you see her, come along without delay.”
Jamie left them with some reluctance, though they would have plenty of time later for visiting. All was in readiness now; he needed only a bride.
No sooner had he reached the door than the bridal party strolled round the corner of the house, their laughter preceding them. Holding up Leana’s hem, the maids cleared her path of late-arriving guests and delivered her to Jamie’s side.
“Leana, my love.” He held out his hands to receive his bride.
Her hair was unbound, a halo of gold round her shining face, draped in a lacy kell. Her gown was the color of bluebells in May. A fine choice. Rose. And her eyes were filled with a love he would spend the rest of his life trying to deserve.
Leana smiled up at him as she took his offered hand. “Jamie, how fine you look.”
“I am glad my attire pleases you, lass.” He’d not given his costume a moment’s consideration, though his valet had fussed over him for an hour. “The shirt you’ve made for me is the finest in my clothes press. However, not one pair of eyes will notice it once they see the woman on my arm.” He leaned closer, inhaling her scent. “You are the most beautiful lass in all of Scotland. And I, its luckiest man.”
She blushed like the bride she was, the very shade of the roses in the entrance hall.
At his request, the maids had taken her out the back door so she would not see the roses until they entered the house. Soon, but not yet. The Hastingses were his first surprise.
He spied them coming from behind her and grinned. “Leana, I’ve taken the liberty of spending some of the estate’s good silver on bringing two guests I thought you might welcome to Glentrool.”
Just before Leana t
urned round, Jamie watched the truth dawn in her eyes like the sun breaking over the horizon.
“Neda!”
Ninety-One
And when my lips meet thine
Thy very soul is wedded unto mine.
HJALMAR HJORTH BOYESEN
Leana threw herself into Neda’s embrace without a thought for her carefully pressed wedding gown or her neatly pinned kell. “I cannot believe you are here!”
“Ye have yer guid husband tae thank.” Neda hugged her for a moment, then held her at arms length. “Come, let us see yer loosome goun.”
Leana brushed away her tears, knowing it was not her gown Neda wanted to see but her bairn. “Isn’t she a beauty?”
“A fair sight for sair eyes. Not lang in comin’, I’d say.” Neda smoothed her hands over Leana’s imported lace kell, a gift from Jamie, and shook out the wrinkles in Leana’s full sleeves. “Ye did leave somethin unstitched ’til ye were dressed, did ye not?”
Leana smiled at the reminder. It was unlucky for a bride’s gown to be completely finished until the day she wore it. “Fear not. I stitched on a button this morning.”
“I’m afraid thar’s nae hope for ye, lad,” Duncan told Jamie. “For ’tis unchancie for a man tae marry a woman wi’ a bairn.” When Jamie started to protest, Duncan added, “Except whan the bairn is his, o’ course.”
The four of them laughed, though Leana could not imagine any heart lighter than her own. To have Jamie as her bridegroom and his child due in mere days and Neda on hand for her wedding! “Have you seen Ian?” Leana waved over Annabel, who was standing nearby as promised. “Hasn’t he grown, though?”
Neda and Duncan made a proper fuss over the lad until a stern voice demanded their attention.
“Mr. McKie.” Reverend Moodie stood at the door, his arms folded across his chest. “Were you planning on marrying today or not?”
“Most assuredly.” Jamie sent Duncan, Neda, and Annabel in ahead of them and called the piper to his task. Since there would be no procession from house to kirk, the piper would stroll round the mains three times like a clock while Leana and Jamie made their entrance. The young piper tucked his tartan bag under his arm, filling the bag with air. After much grunting and squeaking, the chanter finally settled on a happy note, and the lad walked off in rhythm with his music, the sound carrying across the loch and echoing off Mulldonach.
Whence Came a Prince Page 55