As he stood there surveying the area, his bright green eyes taking in the sight, his massive shoulders an outline against the deep blue sky, he looked much like how she imagined a Scottish warrior from the medieval ages looked. All he was missing was a sporran, broadsword, and his kilt.
The fluttering began in her lower parts as she studied him. Strong chin, high cheekbones, straight nose. With his feet planted apart, his hands fisted on his hips, he was every Scottish combatant from the beginning of time. He turned to her and flashed the grin that never failed to melt her insides.
“Aye, one of my favorite spots.” He took a step down a rocky path toward the sea, then turned and extended his hand. “Come with me, darlin’. Ye need to get closer to the water.”
“Is it safe?”
“I would never let anything happen to ye, lass.” Her heart skipped a beat as he towered over her, watching her with those deep green eyes that had the power to take her breath away. There was so much in his expression that convinced her that this was the right man, at the right time, in the right place. The man she’d waited for. She loved The MacBride, and whatever problems they might face in the future, hopefully they would do it together.
Then like a cloud passing over the sun, she realized no matter how optimistic her thoughts, a niggling of doubt always arose. She was English, Liam was Scottish, and his mother heartily disapproved of any match between them. Could she put aside her own prejudices and raise a child in the Scottish ways? Would they fight the war between England and Scotland in their own bedchamber?
Gripping her hand tightly, he led her down the path to a small beach a short distance from the rugged rocks. Her shoes sank into the wet sand, making a sucking sound when she walked. But it was worth the discomfort to feel the spray of water on her face and inhale the salt and brine.
She gripped the ribbons of her bonnet as she fought the wind to keep it on her head, and her pelisse around her body. The harshness of the ocean as the waves pounded the rocks heightened her senses, bringing with it an excitement she’d never felt before. She stopped for a moment to watch nature’s breathtaking show. Without a word, Liam bent and scooped her into his arms.
“What are you doing?” She laughed at the combination of salt, sand, and sunshine. And the man who held her in his powerful arms. No, nothing could go wrong with Liam by her side.
“Yer such a wee little thing, I’m afraid the wind will carry ye away from me. I’m going to deliver ye to that rock yonder.” He gestured with his chin to a large boulder that looked like a seat had been carved out in the middle of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. Peace settled over her. This was right.
Once he had her firmly on the rock, he grinned and pulled something from his pocket. What was this man up to now? Liam cleared his throat, and all of a sudden his expression grew thoughtful and—scared? Her heart filled at the vulnerable look on his face.
Staring directly at her, he took her hand in his and went down on one knee. He kissed her fingertips and said, “Lass, I’ve asked ye this a few times before, but now I’m wanting an answer. I love ye, Lady Sybil, and wish more than anything in the world to have ye for my wife. Unless I’ve lost all my ability to judge people, I think ye care for me, too. So, one more time. Will ye marry me?”
Her throat thickened, and her eyes filled with tears. How could she have ever thought this man was a barbarian? The love and hope on his face filled her with such love for him in return that she couldn’t even form the word he so wanted to hear. Instead, she merely nodded her acceptance, two tears tracking down her cheeks.
Liam carefully slid a ruby and diamond ring onto her finger. “’Twas my grandmother’s. It came to me after she died.”
Sybil studied the beautiful ring through watery eyes. “It is exquisite.”
Standing, he pulled her to her feet and cupped her cheeks. Tha gaol agam ort,” he whispered before he slowly bent his head and took her lips in a soft, gentle kiss.
The wind buffeted them as they stood on the rock, the beauty of the Highlands on one side, the rough angry sea on the other. A fine mist of cold salt water sprayed them, but Sybil was warmed from her toes to her head by her betrothed’s kiss. “What did you say? Was that Gaelic?”
He ran his finger down her cheek. “Yes. I said ‘I love you.’”
“I love you, too.”
“Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin.”
She gave him a questioning glance.
“That means I love you, too, in Gaelic.”
“Oh. Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin” She stumbled slightly, but it came out at least similar to what he’d said.
“Verra good, my lady. I’ll make a Scottish lass out of ye yet.”
“And is that so important?”
“’Twould help.” He grinned and winked at her.
She raised her chin. “Indeed?”
“Ach, I’m teasing ye.”
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. “I think we should get married tomorrow.”
“What?” She leaned back so she could look into his eyes. “Tomorrow?”
“Aye. Now that I have yer consent, I don’t want to give ye time to change yer mind.”
“I won’t change my mind.” She shook her head. “But I want a proper wedding. I need my family to be here.”
He sighed and tucked a loose curl back into her bonnet. “Aye. I ken you would.”
The wind had picked up, chilling them both. Sybil shivered and burrowed into Liam’s warmth. She inhaled the familiar and comforting scents of Liam. Her man. She smiled into the wool of his jacket.
“Come, lass. Yer getting chilled.” He hopped down from the rock and reached up for her. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he swung her down, kissing her as she slid down his body. “Ach, lass. We need to find a fast way for yer family to travel here. I want ye in my bed, where I can keep ye verra warm.”
Sybil flushed at the fond memories of how Liam kept her warm. It would be interesting to make love in a bed, since both times had been on the library floor.
Holding hands, they climbed up the slight incline until they were blocked from the sea by the hill they’d crested on their way to the water. Away from the ocean the wind subsided, making the walk back warmer and quite pleasant.
“I will tell my mum and sisters at dinner that ye accepted my proposal.”
One final hurdle to climb, it seemed. How would her future mother-in-law take this news? Until now it seemed she’d had no use for her, and all of Sybil’s attempts to make the woman warm toward her had failed. But she would not allow Lady MacBride to ruin her happiness.
She glanced up at Liam to find him staring at her. “What?”
“I’m thinking of how I can sneak into yer bedchamber tonight.”
“Liam, no! That’s improper.”
His eyebrows rose. “The library floor is more proper?”
“No. We cannot continue that until we’re married.”
“Ach, lass. If ye think I can stay away from ye now that I ken ye are mine, yer sadly mistaken.”
…
Dinner was a quiet affair. Once Liam made his announcement, both of his sisters squealed with delight, jumping up in a most unladylike manner, each giving Sybil a sisterly hug. His mum remained silent, not making any comments.
“When is the wedding?” Catriona bounced up and down on her seat, her bright eyes full of excitement.
“Lady Sybil must write to her family first, and we need to give them time to travel here.”
“Actually, Liam,” Sybil said, “Now that I’ve thought about this, my sister Abigail just had twins in February.” She began counting on her fingers. “My brother and his wife also had a baby girl in February, and my sister Marion was expecting her baby around now. She most likely has a newborn child herself.”
“Ach, lass. Yer family is exploding.”
“Indeed. But only my sister, Sarah will be able to travel any distance. I would never want my wedding to not i
nclude her.”
“We can travel to England and marry there.”
“No, Liam,” Alanna said. “You must marry here so our clan can witness their laird’s marriage. ’Tis tradition, right, Mum?”
All eyes swung to the one person who had left herself out of the conversation. “It matters naught. ’Tis the laird’s choice. Let my laird decide what he wants to do. ’Tis his decision.” Feigning indifference, she returned to her meal.
“I have a suggestion. Why don’t we marry here and then travel to England to visit with yer family?” Anything to get Sybil right where he wanted her as soon as possible. In his bed and in his arms.
Sybil seemed to consider the idea. “That might be the best solution.”
“Aye. Then ’tis settled. We will have the wedding in three weeks.” He peered at mum who continued to pretend the conversation was not taking place. “Can I ask ye to help with the wedding?”
She placed her fork neatly at the side of her plate. “Of course, my laird.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “I will go immediately to the kitchen and work out the menu with Mrs. MacDougal, my laird.” With a slight nod she turned and left the room.
Liam dropped his head into his hands and groaned.
Chapter Seventeen
Two weeks passed in a flurry of wedding preparations. To Liam’s amazement his mum actually did help quite a bit with the arrangements. While not actually being pleasant, nevertheless, she did what needed to be done to make sure all would run smoothly on his wedding day.
His wedding day. It couldn’t come soon enough. True to her word, Sybil had barred him from her bedchamber and refused to remain in the library after his sisters had retired for the evening. His frustration grew each day. This time next week he would be a married man and more than happy to retire to their bedchamber each night right from the dinner table as his mum continued to do.
While the women fussed about the wedding, he’d spent his time getting estate matters in order so he and Sybil could take sufficient time to travel to England and spend time with her kin. He hoped her family didn’t hold the same disdain for the Scots as his mum did for the English. However, based on what she’d told him of them, he doubted he would be met with anything but acceptance.
A scratch at his office door drew his attention from his musings about the very wicked things he intended to do with his bride very soon. “Yes. Come.”
His mum stood at the doorway, a look of pleasure on her face such as he hadn’t seen in a while. In fact, not since Sybil had arrived. She moved forward, her hands behind her back. An unexplained nugget of fear settled in his stomach. What was the woman up to now?
“I wanted to speak with ye about yer wedding plans.”
Liam nodded to the chair in front of his desk.
His mum settled herself, drawing out a piece of foolscap from behind her back and rested it in her lap. “Everything is ready.”
“I am glad to hear it.” He tensed further. Something was wrong. Verra wrong. He knew his mum well. If she was this happy, it didn’t bode well for him.
She smiled brightly. “There will need to be one change, however.”
Liam shifted in his seat, trying to relax his muscles. “What are ye up to woman? I don’t like the look on yer face, and you obviously have something yer dying to tell me. So stop playing games and speak.”
“It seems the change will be yer bride.” The joy on her face as she took the foolscap from her lap and placed it onto his desk knotted his stomach. She was entirely too happy.
With shaky hands he picked up the paper and skimmed the words. ’Twas a letter from The McLaughlin assuring Lady MacBride that he was thrilled to once again join his daughter, Anise, and Laird MacBride. He and the lass were on their way to Bedlay Castle.
He tossed the paper aside with a sense of relief. They’d already gone over this. “Nay. I instructed you to write to the man and tell him I would not renew the betrothal agreement.”
She sat forward. “What do ye mean, nay? The honor of our entire clan rests with you fulfilling the betrothal agreement.” She gestured with her chin toward the letter.
Liam ran his fingers through his hair. “There is no agreement, and I will not abide ye taking these matters into yer own hands and refusing to honor what yer laird ordered. I have made my choice, and ’tis not Anise McLaughlin. I will write to him and explain I am already betrothed and will marry within a week’s time.”
“And make a liar out of yer mum? I told him ye were in the market for a bride.”
“How many times do ye need to hear me say ye have no right to interfere with my life?”
Lady MacBride stabbed the paper on his desk with her finger. “Ye canna stop him from coming. Laird McLaughlin and yer bride are on their way here.”
Jumping up from his chair, Liam shouted, “My bride is right here at Bedlay. If ye refuse to send a messenger to intercept them, then I shall move up my wedding to the morn, and ye can greet the man by yerself with the news that me and my bride are on our honeymoon.”
His mum sneered. “’Twas bad enough when ye decided to betrothe yerself to a Sassenach, but I will not sit by and watch ye dishonor yer clan by embarrassing me and then tossing everything Scottish in ye to the wind. ’Tis an awkward spot ye put me in with The McLaughlin.”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “Ye got yerself into this mess. Ye can get yerself out of it.”
His mother’s shoulders slumped. “Ach lad. Yer not giving this enough thought. If ye have yer way, ye’ll be raising a passel of English brats. Anise McLaughlin is a good, Scottish lass. She will give ye strong lads.”
He hit his chest with his thumb. “Nay. My bairns will be Scottish, naught English.” Any lads and lasses of his would be Scottish in name and heritage. He’d make certain they understood that their sweet mother notwithstanding, the English were a nasty lot who had persecuted the Scots for decades.
“Half English!” she shouted.
“Nay! Scottish.” He leaned forward. “My love for the English is no more than yers.” He pounded his fist on the desk. “My bairns will be Scottish. Do ye hear me woman? Naught English. They will be raised in the Scottish tradition and never be called Sassenach!”
…
Sybil stopped abruptly at the door to the library. Recently returning from her walk in the garden with Catriona and Alanna, she’d been drawn to the library door by the sound of Lady MacBride’s voice raised in anger. Hating that she was eavesdropping, nevertheless she didn’t make her presence known.
Anise McLaughlin?
All the blood drained from Sybil’s face as she heard Liam’s declaration. She pushed open the door with her fingertips. Liam and his mother glared at each other, both in a combative stance.
“Liam?” Her voice rasped.
Flushed-face, his head jerked toward the door as he regarded her. His eyes grew wide. “Ach lass. I dinna ken you were there.”
She raised her chin. “Apparently not. However, it would have been hard not to hear you, anyway. I am sure my brother, the very English Duke of Manchester heard you all the way in London.”
Lady MacBride’s lip curled as she strolled toward Sybil. “Now ye know what yer betrothed thinks of yer English, Lady Sybil.” She swept from the room, holding her skirts close as if to avoid touching her.
Liam held out his hand. “Lass, I was angry. The woman does that to me. I dinna mean it.”
“Yes, you did.” She moved farther into the room, her fists at her side, her chin quivering with emotion. “And, my laird, do you think I would be happy to raise my English children as Scottish? Do you think you are the only one with pride?”
How dare he impugn the English? Here he was professing love for her when all the time he hated everything that represented what she was. Her heritage was as important to her as his was to him. She should have known that his heart was so full of his clan, his mother, and his way of life, that there was no room for her. Or for any children they might have had who would be half E
nglish.
He moved around the desk and stood in front of her. “I think we both need to calm down.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. “No. It appears your mum has already selected a woman for you who will give ye strong lads. We have made a grave mistake.” As if seeing clearly for the first time in weeks, she realized his disdain for her when they’d first met made his profession of love all lies. How could she have believed he had actually put aside his dislike and distrust of an entire nation of people? For her?
She’d been a fool. Closing her eyes briefly at the pain of her dreams shattering, she turned and headed for the door.
“Sybil.”
She shook her head, and held up her hand when he started toward her. “I will have Bessie pack my belongings. If you will notify your driver to prepare your carriage, I should like to leave as soon as I am ready. Then you can prepare for your wedding to the Scottish woman.” She raised her chin. “You do remember you promised my brother you would provide transportation home when I was ready to leave?”
He rested his hands on his hips and peered at her through shuttered eyes. “Aye. I remember. But I think ye should give yerself time to calm down so we can discuss this.”
She smiled sadly, her eyes burning from where the tears had gathered. “There is nothing to discuss. I believe everything worth saying has been stated. Quite clearly and at the top of your lungs.” She hurried from the room, the knot in her throat choking her.
Once she entered her bedchamber, she walked to the window, looking out at the beautiful Scottish Highlands. Finally the tears spilled from her eyes and dripped from her chin to land on the window sill. It had all been a dream. She didn’t belong here, and Liam had just confirmed it. Apparently Lady MacBride had done an excellent job of tainting Liam’s view of everything and everyone English.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to erase the chill that had settled on her. Never in her life had she been so miserable. She’d finally found the man she’d been holding out for; someone to love, who loved her in return. Unfortunately, there was the little matter of a deep seated prejudice against her and her people.
The Highlander's Choice (Entangled Scandalous) (Marriage Mart Mayhem) Page 16