by Gill, Tamara
“Good luck, brother.”
He ignored her parting comment that he would need it.
Chapter 15
London
* * *
Sophie wrung her hands before her as she paced in her bedroom. Today she would marry Mr. Mathew Fitzgerald, a childhood friend from Sandbach who was training to be a barrister, and a man who did not evoke one ounce of desire in her, no matter how much he tried with his kisses.
He had come up to Town, wanting to visit Stephen whom he’d not seen for some years and they had been thrown together. Heartsick and missing Brice, Sophie had perhaps shown more notice than she really felt toward the gentleman, and within a month he’d proposed and shockingly she’d said yes.
“Why did I do such a thing?” she said aloud in her room to no one. She was alone, wanting to have the few hours before she gave herself to a man who was suffocating in his attention toward her, that had only become worse after she’d agreed to be his wife. “This is a disaster.”
Her vision blurred and she swiped up her handkerchief from her dressing table, dabbing at her cheeks. Damn Brice and damn Clan Brodie and everyone who thought that the laird of Mackintosh would make a great match to a woman whose only asset was that she was Scottish.
They certainly did not love each other, but then he’d never told her that he loved her either so her point was moot.
She missed him.
Sophie slumped on the bed, fighting the need to curl into a ball and never go anywhere ever again. She’d written to Elizabeth, part in hope that she would give news of her impending nuptials to Brice. But today was her wedding day, and she’d not heard back from Elizabeth or seen her fiery-red Scot since the day she left.
He did not care.
She supposed Brice would be married now to Elspeth. She ought to thank Elizabeth for not telling her such news for to read it in black and white that Brice would never be hers would’ve been a heartbreak she could not have faced.
But she did have to face it. He was gone and she was about to marry a man who loved her, or at least, liked her very much.
A commotion downstairs sounded and she stood, going to the door and opening it. Yelling sounded from the foyer and Sophie stilled when the very distinct and very demanding Scottish burr reached her ears.
Brice!
She shut her mouth with a snap, unsure whether she should go and see what he wanted or hide. What was he doing here? Did he come to wish her well, to apologize and show that marriage to other people was the right course? Was Elspeth with him?
Her fingers clenched the handle, but her feet refused to move. Not that they had to for Brice appeared at the top of the stairs and, looking about to see which way to go, spied her.
“Sophie,” he said, the sound of her name on his lips was like a balm over a festering wound.
“Brice. What are you doing here?” she asked, coming out into the corridor to meet him. He took her hands, glancing behind him. Her brother-in-law came into view at the top of the stairs, yelling out to Brice.
Brice wrenched her back into her room, the snick of the lock putting an end to Luke interrupting them.
“Sophie, let me in and I’ll escort Laird Mackintosh outside.”
“I’d like to see him try,” Brice said, his voice brooking no argument.
Sophie sighed. “It’s okay, my lord. I will speak to Laird Mackintosh. I will be down shortly.”
There was a small delay before the muffled sound of Luke’s voice met her ears. “Very well. I’ll be in the library with Louise when you’re ready.”
She turned back to Brice, unable to stop herself from taking in all his grandeur. He looked travel-weary, his clothes dusty and rumpled. His hair was longer and he’d not bothered to tie it back and so it sat upon his shoulders, the red, fiery locks making her want to run her hands through it, pull him toward her and kiss him.
She’d missed him so much.
Sophie stepped back, needing space to think straight. He had a way of discombobulating her. “Why are you here, Brice? Should you not be in Scotland with your wife?”
He reared back at her words. “I dinna have a wife, lass, not yet at least. Did Elizabeth not tell ye what happened after ye left?”
He wasn’t married? Hope and despair ran through her at the declaration. He wasn’t married, but she was to be soon and so it was too late.
Wasn’t it?
“Elizabeth never mentioned you at all.” Not that she’d wanted to hear of his marriage, of where they had traveled for their honeymoon. Just the thought of Brice lying with another woman made her head ache. For weeks after leaving Scotland she’d had nightmares of such a scene, of him kissing Elspeth and consummating the marriage. Of stealing kisses such as he had with her, but instead of Sophie in the dreams, it had been Elspeth, her mother’s mocking voice whispering in her ear that she was nothing but common English nonsense.
“I dinna marry Elspeth. In fact, I asked them to leave the same day ye departed for London.” He reached for her and she edged away. If he touched her, she’d be lost and she had Mathew to marry. A good man who was right now getting ready in another part of the marquess’s home. Brice and his distraction were not needed.
“I should have come after ye, to tell ye how sorry I am. I’ll admit, I should never had dallied with ye, stolen kisses that were not for me, but the day that I found ye on the tower I’d made up my mind to marry ye, lass. I want ye to marry me still.” His eyes beseeched her and her heart beat loud in her ears. “I love ye, Sassenach. You’re the only lass I want beside me for the rest of my days, however many that will be.”
Sophie swiped at her cheek, biting the inside of her lip to distract herself from all the wonderful things he was saying. “You should have told me what your family expected of you. Had you just said that it wasn’t what you wanted, all those stolen kisses would not have felt like lies.”
“I’m sorry, lass. I was stupid.”
“You were, but then you are a man…”
He grinned, that devilishly handsome smile, and she knew the fight was lost. She loved him. Loved him still. Senseless, obstinate Scot that he was. “I never said I was an angel, lass, but one kiss from ye, one look, and there was no way that I was going to let ye go. Tell me ye’ll marry me.” He stepped before her, and this time she didn’t step away when he reached to hold her.
She sighed at being back in his arms. It was like coming home. Perfect and right in every way. “I’m marrying Mr. Fitzgerald today,” she stated, wanting him to grovel for just a little longer.
“No ye are not. Ye’re going to marry me instead. Say yes.”
Sophie raised her brow. “We have a whole wedding planned today. Guests will be arriving soon. Why, Mathew is only a few doors away getting ready.” She gestured to herself. “If you haven’t noticed I’m in a wedding gown.”
He glanced down at the blue silk gown with overlaying lace and his gaze darkened. “Say yes, Sophie, to my question. I’ll not be taking no for an answer. Ye know ye love me as much as I love ye. If ye marry whatever his name is ye’ll regret it and I’ll have to force ye to have a lifelong affair with me. Now, ye dinna want to do that, do ye?”
No she did not want to do that, and although she would hurt Mathew she knew that to marry him would hurt him more in the long term. “You love me, do you?”
His lips twitched and she reached up, wrapping her arms about his neck, needing to touch him, to be reassured that he was here, alive and well and for her. “Ye know I do. I would never have taken ye to my bed had I not meant for ye to be my wife. I was a fool not to follow ye to London, but I thought that I had lost ye. I convinced myself that the time we’d spent together had been too short for ye to fall in love with me as much as I was in love with ye.”
She shook her head, weary of it all and a little sad that they’d wasted so many months wallowing in their own grief of losing each other. “How very wrong you were.” Sophie could no longer wait, she leaned forward and brushed her lips again
st his. His hands tightened about her back and she settled against him. “I missed you too. So very much.”
“And?” he asked, meeting her gaze. “Is there anything else that ye need to be telling me?”
She chuckled, supposing there was. “I love you too. I think a little part of me fell for you the moment you scooped me up in your arms on that hillside in Moy.”
“Ye were very sweet in my arms, lass. I knew right then that I was in trouble and then when ye arrived at my home, I could not see straight for wanting ye. ’Tis not something I’d ever experienced before, but now that I have, ’tis a need that I’m not willing to live without.”
“Neither am I,” she said, kissing him fully. They came together, the kiss turning molten, and after months of being apart there would be no separating them again. Her responsibilities, her wedding flew from her thoughts as only Brice occupied her mind. They tumbled onto the bed and his deft fingers made fast work of her gown, sliding it up her hips to pool at her waist.
Sophie welcomed him, wanting him more with every minute of every day. He sat back and ripped off her pantalettes, her stockings, leaving her bare to his inspection. He watched her, his gaze dark and brimming with need and love.
She should have recognized it before she fled from Scotland for the way he was looking at her now was the same as he’d looked at her the day she had given herself to him. She’d given him her heart that day and it would seem so had he.
He kissed her, drugging her with his touch and she could not get enough. She wanted more, so much more. Sophie pushed on his shoulder until he understood and rolled onto his back. He brought her with him, and she straddled him.
She gingerly moved to take Brice into her, not sure if being with him in this way was even possible.
He shut his eyes, a whisper of a moan slipping past his lips. “That’s it, lass. Take everything from me.”
Sophie leaned against his chest and moved again until she found a sweet rhythm. He felt larger this way, filling and inflaming her beyond anything she’d thought possible. She would never get tired of this for it was simply heaven and to have Brice’s heart made it even more perfect.
Somewhere, deep inside, he teased her closer to the peak she longed to experience again. He sat up, holding her shoulders and helping her come down on him harder. “Brice,” she gasped as her body shattered around him, spiking tremor after tremor of sweet release to course through her body. She rode him, took what he gave her and kissed him as he spent within her.
Their coming together was quick and frenzied and for a few minutes they stayed as they were, waiting for their breaths and hearts to settle.
“Ye’ll marry me and no one else, lass. Are we in agreement?”
She nodded, unable to form words right at that moment. She ran her hands over his cheeks, enjoying the coarse stubble that peppered his jaw. “I have to tell Mathew that I’ll not be marrying him. Will ye come with me?”
His jaw hardened and his gaze cooled a little at the mention of her betrothed. “Aye. I’ll come with ye. I’ll not be letting ye out of my sight again.”
Sophie grinned at his protectiveness or jealousy, both she would presume. “Good, because I’ll not be letting you out of my sight either.”
She started when a loud, insistent knock banged on her door. “Sophie, what the hell is going on in there?” her betrothed yelled, banging again and rattling the handle.
Brice glared at the door. “Come, lass, no time like the present to tell everyone under this roof that ye’re mine and I’m yers and nothing, not even a Mr. whatever his name is from wherever will change that fact.”
Chapter 16
Brice stood at the side of the ballroom as his bride danced with her brother. The Marquess Graham and Louise stood next to him, talking of their impending trip to Scotland to see them once the Season ended.
They were leaving for home tomorrow and he could not wait to have Sophie back in Scotland. The only sadness to this day was that his sister had not been here to see him marry the woman he loved. But Elizabeth had practically pushed him out the door to go get her back, and so he knew she’d forgive him eventually.
“My sister is glowing, Brice. You make her happy.” Louise glanced at him, smiling, and he smiled back, pleased to know he had the marquess’s and marchioness’s approval. After his hasty arrival last month, and his declaration on the day of Sophie’s wedding that she’d not be marrying anyone other than him, he was glad he’d not done too much damage to his relationship with Sophie’s family. Once they saw how happy she was, they had relented and forgiven him and then proceeded with untold enthusiasm to help organize a new wedding. One each party involved was passionate about.
“I try, my lady,” he said, knowing that he’d try damn hard. At times he thought that maybe he was too eager to please, and yet he would not change. He loved her, so very much, and wanted nothing but her happiness.
The minuet came to an end and Sophie walked back over to them on her brother’s arm, their laughter and her pleasure at being in their company making his lips twitch. His heart clenched and he marveled at the fact that he could adore someone as much as he adored Sophie.
His wife…
“My waltz, I believe,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. Her gaze met his and he read the need, the devotion he saw there. He knew the look well as he sported it always when about her.
She chuckled, taking his arm. “That would be my pleasure, husband.”
He guided her onto the dance floor, pulling her into his arms closer than he ought. Not that he cared what the matrons of the ton thought of his actions. He’d hold her as close as he damn well pleased and tonight especially. It was their wedding ball that they’d wanted to hold instead of a breakfast.
“Happy?” he asked, pulling her into a spin as the music started and the dance commenced.
“Always,” she said, her hand lightly playing with the tartan over his shoulder. “You look so handsome today. My very own highlander.”
He stopped dancing, and, leaning down, kissed her fully, not stopping even when startled gasps and muffled laughter sounded from about the room. “And you, my dearest wife, are my very own Sassenach.”
She grinned up at him, laughter in her eyes. “Not a Sassenach anymore. I’m a Scot now. Forever.”
Aye, forevermore…
Epilogue
Sophie made it to the top of the hillside that she’d tumbled on two years past. She stared out over Moy and the highlands, including their own home Moy Castle, which she could just make out in the distance. “I have made it,” she declared. “Two years after trying to climb this mountain, I have conquered it.”
Brice came up behind her, pulling her against his chest. She wiggled into his hold, liking his warmth and strength at her back. “I would debate the term mountain, but even so, try not to fall over, lass. I’ll be loath to carry ye back down again.”
She turned, slapping his arm. “Tease. You enjoyed every minute of it the last time.”
He grinned. “Aye, I did. In fact, it drove me mad that ye were in my arms, but ye weren’t mine. Ye have a very delectable bottom, did ye know?”
“I know. You tell me often.” She linked her arm in his and pulled him over to a small outcrop of rocks, before taking a seat. “I wanted to come here because this is the first place we met.”
He joined her, sitting down and taking her hand, idly playing with her fingers. “Aye, it was. I canna thank your brother-in-law’s carriage enough that the wheel decided to come off and strand ye here. Had it not, we would never have met.”
“Hmm,” Sophie said. “I think we’re destined to meet our soul mates, and that no matter what, fate will play a hand and join the couples somehow. That carriage wheel was always going to come off here and we were always going to meet and you were always going to fall madly in love with me.”
“I canna disagree with that last statement. ’Tis very true.” He leaned over, kissing her quickly.
Sophie clasped h
er stomach, nerves flittering in her belly. “I wanted to bring you here today because there is something I want to tell you.”
He glanced at her, a small frown marring his brow. “Are ye alright, lass? Is there something bothering ye?”
“No, nothing like that,” she said, waving his concerns away. “I wanted to be here when I told you that I’m going to have your baby. You’re going to be a father.”
Brice stared at Sophie, words failing him. After two years of marriage he’d started to worry that a bairn of their own was not going to happen, and he’d accepted that fact. He loved Sophie more than anything in the world, including a child that did not exist and he’d never fret over something that he could not control.
Her words sent his mind reeling and the ground shifted under his feet a moment. “Ye are?” he managed to croak out, a lump wedged firmly in his throat.
“I am.” She nodded. “The doctor confirmed it for me when I went to town yesterday and so today you find us here, where we met and where two will soon be three.”
He clasped her face, kissing her and pulling her into a fierce hug. “Oh Sophie, I dinna know what to say, other than I’m shocked, ecstatic.” He pulled back, wiping the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
“You’re happy then?” she asked.
He laughed, hugging her yet again. “God damn it, aye. I love ye, lass,” he said, kissing her. She chuckled when he didn’t stop.
“I love you too,” she said, squealing when he stood quickly and swooped her up in his arms. “What are you doing?”
He started for the path and the way back down toward the village. “Carrying ye. I’ll not have my pregnant wife overexerting herself and so I’ll carry ye back down.”
She threw him a bemused look. “If you wish. I enjoyed my little ride in your arms last time we were here. I’m more than willing to do it again.”