He frowned and glanced at Mrs. O’Neal, who had come back in to get ready to mop up the blood. “Poor girl is in shock,” Mrs. O’Neal said quietly. “Look at her eyes.”
Iain sighed as he noticed the glassy sheen in her eyes. Then his brothers Matthew and Nigel walked in. Even though he never took his gaze away from Emily he explained what had happened.
“Man was mad as a hatter,” Iain said as they began to carry the man out, careful to keep out of Emily’s line of sight. “He even killed his own parents. Said they were stupid because they did not use the duke to make any gains. Actually, I think he killed his mother because she had the audacity to scream at him, her own son. And I didnae even hear all he said. God alone kens what else he confessed to.”
Once his brothers had gotten rid of the body he pulled Emily to her feet and took her out the back door to walk around to the front and get to the stairs. He was pondering Mrs. O’Neal’s whispered advice to try to break through Emily’s shock but had come up with no idea of how by the time he got her into his bedroom. He suddenly grinned as he wondered why he had taken her there. Aside from the fact that he was ready to get out of the sickroom. He wondered if he was thinking making love to her would pull her out of her shock. Since that could well include her starting to cry he decided against it. He urged her to lie on the bed, propping up the pillows at her back.
“Ye need to have some water, I think, love.” He moved to pour her a glass.
Emily sighed. “You always call me love. You really should not. Gives a girl hope, you know, that she might really be your love. I know I am not. I am just the girl you like to, like to, um, shag.” She nodded. “That is the word. Shag.”
Iain hurried back with the water and made her drink it, fighting to control his laughter, mostly brought on by surprise. “That is not all you are to me, Emily.” He hoped she could hear and understand him because he did not like her thinking that. “I have been wooing you. A man doesnae woo a lass when she is just convenient for lovemaking.”
“Oh, yes, the wooing.”
“Aye. I brought ye flowers and candy.”
“Mrs. O’Neal and the children really liked the candy.” The numbness was fading and Emily tried to hold on to it; she did not really want to remember what she had seen and heard.
“Ye gave them the candy?”
“Shared it. They were all sitting there with their big begging eyes. I do not know how they knew I had candy but suddenly they were all there. I feel odd, Iain.”
“Ye are in shock, love.”
“There. You did it again.”
“Emily, you are my love and if my wooing didnae make ye see that, I was doing a worse job than I thought I was.” He gently stroked her cheek. “Come back to me and we can talk sense and I ken ye will remember what I say then.”
“He was so insane, Iain. It was frightening to be in a room with someone so barking mad. He needed to be chained up. He killed his parents and he wanted to kill Neddy. Saw no wrong in it. He even planned to kill my grandfather. He did not kill Constance though, even though he thought she was stupid and talked of how, in the hour he spent with her, he envisioned shooting her in her never-closed mouth even though he was feeling very pleased with himself and kindly toward her at the time. Who thinks like that?”
Her voice rose on the last question and he held her close. “A lunatic. You probably will never know how many he killed. Dinnae fret over it. He is gone now and we dinnae need to worry about his mad plans.”
“But he was my relation. Blood relation. What if that sickness is in me?”
“Never. It doesnae run through families like red hair. There would be signs. There is nothing in ye or little Neddy to show it. And sometimes it is just the one. Just some twist that happened. Maybe in the womb. I have seen both. I am nay worried about it. Maybe it came from the side that is no blood relation to ye.”
“You mean it could have come from his mother’s side not the duke’s.”
“Aye.” He felt a wetness on his shirt that told him the tears had come. “The man is dead. Ye dinnae need to worry about him anymore.”
“You will tell me if you ever see a hint of it?”
“Aye, but I dinnae think I ever will.”
“Because I am your love,” she whispered.
“Exactly. The wooing was so ye would be of a mind to heed me when I spoke of it.”
“So ye want to continue to woo me.”
“Do I have to?”
“Not really.”
He tilted her face up to his and kissed her, then looked down at her and knew what he was about to say was as true and heartfelt as anything he had ever said in his life. “I do love ye, Lady Emily.”
“Oh.” She knew she was crying again. “I love you, too. And you do not need to call me ‘Lady.’ It is my grandfather who is the duke.”
“Which meant your father was the marquise. I think that makes ye a lady.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Used to be. Nay anymore. If nothing else, ye showed me there are good and bad. Ashamed that I ever compared ye to Lady Vera even once.”
“Lady Vera? Lady Vera Compton?”
He tensed. “Do ye ken the woman?”
“Only of her. The duke disowned her. It was quite the scandal. She was only a distant relation but he disclaimed any connection to her and her family. Was she the one who lost you your home?”
“I guess George’s friend at Harvard was right. The gentry is an incestuous bunch. Do ye all ken each other?”
“I do not. Never saw the need. My father had to and complained long and sometimes loudly about it. Refused to take us with them to some house parties. Something about them not being suitable for children. Yet if I mentioned that any of the people my age had been there he would go all stern and say their parents never had any sense. When I was older I decided it was because of drunkenness and maybe something lewd.”
“Quite likely. So why did your grandfather disown her and her family?”
“He said they had no feeling, or even the slightest hint of courtesy, for the ones who worked their lands and made them rich. To my grandfather that is one of the worst sins of the gentry. He says our class is wonderful at spending the money but neither thinks nor acts like they know it comes from the work of others. He is called a radical, I fear. Well, I do not care, but it occasionally causes the rest of his relations an uncomfortable confrontation.”
“And I suspicion your father was much like him.”
“Yes. But he did play the game much better than my grandfather.”
Iain laughed. “Older men can get away with being more blunt-speaking. People who dinnae like what they have to say can just tell themselves he is getting crotchety in his old age.”
Emily smiled, realizing it was his anger at the gentry that had caused him to go hot and cold in the beginning but that he was well and truly past that. “That is exactly what my grandfather says. He also says he has done enough in the past to please most everyone and earn honors and medals and they just do not have the spine to tell him to shut it.”
“I think I could get to like your grandfather.” He kissed her. “Do ye wish to go home?”
“It would be nice at some time if only to see my grandfather and some friends. Go to my cottage at the shore. But no, I miss some things and probably always will but I realized the other day, some of the things I can make here. I actually liked the cabin and all that we did to make it a better place to live. I truly felt a part of it whereas the manor is pretty much perfect and has been for over a hundred years. All I would do is move in. And I do not believe you would be happy to leave this place and live over there so what would be there for me?”
“I would go if that is what ye really desired.” Even though the words were hard to get out he knew he meant them.
“But why?”
“Weel, a mon should stay with his wife, shouldnae he?” He had to bite back a laugh at how wide her eyes grew. “Lass, I told ye I love ye.” Then he g
rinned. “And if we are wed, I can shag ye whenever I want and not worry about Mrs. O’Neal lecturing my ear off. Dinnae ye wish to wed me?” he asked quietly, suddenly feeling uncertain and hating it.
Emily hugged him, pressing her face against his throat. “Oh, yes, I do. I do. When?”
“Soon as possible. Suspect it will be a few weeks as I cannae see Mrs. O’Neal standing for us just running off to a preacher and getting it done. She will be wanting a proper wedding.”
“I think I do, too.”
“Good. Need to get to all that shagging.”
She slapped his arm. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Got the word from ye,” he said, and watched her blush. “Ye were still stuck in shock and ye told me I only called ye ‘love’ because I was shagging you.” He grinned when she groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I would like to ken where ye heard that word and why ye ken what it means.”
“I never said that.”
“Sorry, but ye did.” He laughed when she swatted his arm again. “Violent woman.”
“I think if ye can be calling her a violent woman in that tone she is over her shock and you can get your behind out of there,” came Mrs. O’Neal’s voice through the door.
Iain sighed. “I guess there will be no celebration of our engagement,” he whispered, and stood up.
Walking to the door, Iain opened it and frowned at the woman standing there frowning back at him with her arms crossed over her chest. “We are getting married.”
“When did you decide that?”
“Just now. Ye are interrupting our celebration.” He started to close the door but was not surprised when she stuck her arm out to stop him; he had seen the glint in her eyes.
“Well then, come on, missy, we have some planning to do.”
Emily got up and went to the door. She glanced at Iain and he grinned. Even though she tried to get Mrs. O’Neal out the door as fast as possible she knew it would never be in time.
“Weel, lass, guess the shagging will have to wait until after the wedding,” Iain said, then yelled when Mrs. O’Neal swatted him on the arm. “Damn woman, that hurt.”
“Good. Come along, dearie.”
Emily fell into step behind the woman and glanced back at Iain still rubbing his arm. She grinned and waved. Her good humor faded when they entered the kitchen. Mrs. O’Neal sat her down at the table and Emily did her best to not look at the spot where Albert had died. Then the woman slapped a piece of paper and writing tools in front of her. It was a rather large sheet of paper and Emily had the feeling Iain was right. It could be a long while before the shagging could be indulged in.
It was time for the meal by the time Emily was done writing and she gazed in amazement at all that Mrs. O’Neal thought needed doing. They were going to be busy if they were going to have a wedding in just a few weeks. She was freed from worry about that when the brothers all arrived and tried to give her kisses of welcome only to start a tussle with Iain until Mrs. O’Neal intervened with her wooden spoon and good aim. Emily laughed and realized she was going to be joining a good strong family. Happy in a way she had not been in a long time, she settled in to enjoy the meal.
Chapter Twenty
Emily could not believe it was her wedding day. Even with Maggie, Mabel, Mrs. O’Neal, and Charlotte all crowded into her room it was hard to believe it. They were now all gathered around her making sure her wedding dress was fitted and hanging on her just right. Mrs. O’Neal and Mabel had made it for her and she had been stunned speechless then cried. Mrs. O’Neal had even lent her her veil, a beautiful work of lace done by her mother for her own wedding.
“Damn, woman, you are looking very good,” said Maggie, even as she stood back and rubbed at her rounded belly.
“Thank you. When are you due, anyway?”
“Two months from now.”
“And your husband let you come?”
“Came with me, and the kids, didn’t he? Man’s always afraid if I go somewhere without him someone will snatch me away from him.” She grinned and then turned to Mrs. O’Neal. “And thank you for letting them in your house. We’ve been doing our best to keep them quiet.”
Emily studied Maggie as the woman talked with Mrs. O’Neal. Her husband might not be as crazy as Maggie could make him sound. Even pregnant with her tenth child the woman was quite stunning. She had a beautiful color of blue for her eyes, nearly purple, and long reddish-blond hair that was so thick and wavy one could not help wondering why it did not weigh her down. Despite all the children and being nearly thirty-five, the woman had a figure that was the type to draw a man’s eyes. When she was not pregnant, anyway. Emily had always wondered if it was one reason her husband kept her pregnant, and then she had seen they could still be madly in love with so many children, as well as with each child. They adored each one and she suspected Maggie would happily keep having them until she grew too old or was advised to stop by a doctor.
Emily looked at Charlotte, who listened to the women talk of kids with a soft smile on her face. She was carrying but had not yet announced it to anyone, including her husband. To Emily’s amazement she discovered Mabel was married to the man who ran the tavern and had six children of her own. She began to wonder if Iain expected her to perform so well and was not sure if she was pleased with the idea or terrified. Considering she had been ill in the morning for the last three days, if she discovered it was not from nerves, she may be getting an answer to that question fairly soon.
Wanting her sister to be there, Emily pulled the locket out from under the gown and settled it on her chest as Maggie stepped up and slipped her arms through Emily’s. “That is pretty.”
“It was Annabel’s. I thought it would help me, since she cannot be here, to feel her close.”
“I am sure it will. She and her beautiful man are watching. I feel it in my bones.”
“Oh, I hope so. She used to nag me to find a man.”
“Be hard to find a real man over there amongst the gentry.”
“There are a few.” She smiled when Maggie grimaced.
“Got yourself one now. Are ye going to go back to England?”
“I do not think so. I rather like this place and Iain would never be happy away from all his brothers and stuck with people he cannot fully trust and would probably be disrespectful because he is not one of them. I would not much like that, either.”
“Nope. Me and Beech moved here because the place we lived in treated him like trash. His family was dirt-scratching poor.”
“May I ask a question?”
“Sure. I don’t want to answer and I won’t.”
“Fair enough. Why do you call your husband Beech?”
“It is his name. Mother named them all after trees she saw through the windows of the house. Some were named after plants too. She couldn’t go outside. Her da died of a beesting and she was terrified she might be the same way. So she stayed in all the time. Husband’s name is Beech. Just plain old Beech.”
“It is actually a nice name.” She frowned. “Though thinking on the different trees some would not be so nice to be named after.” She smiled when Maggie laughed.
“One reason we left. Once folk learned she named the kids after plants and that she was terrified of the outdoors he was always getting in fights with ones who called his mother crazy. Poor woman was just scared, not crazy.”
“No. I have seen crazy.”
“He’s dead now,” said Maggie, knowing exactly who Emily referred to. “Paid in blood for the evil he did, as was right.”
Emily took a deep breath and let it out slowly to banish the memories. There was a knock at the door and all the women stared at it. A second knock came but it was a lot lower down on the wood. It was much too low for a grown man.
“I open this door,” yelled Mabel, “and I better not see no men or I’ll shoot ’em.”
The sound of people running back down the stairs made Emily smile. The MacEnroys did not react well to being told
“no” and this was their third try to get in.
“They don’t stand up to Mabel, do they?” said Maggie.
“I suspect that is because if Mabel says she will shoot you, she will,” said Charlotte. “And she never misses.” Charlotte looked at Emily. “I assume she only intended to wound.”
Emily shrugged. “I would assume that, too. This is a wedding, after all.”
Mabel opened the door and looked down. Neddy stood there in his best clothes, clutching the rings and staring wide-eyed at Mabel. Then he looked around, spotted Emily, and ran to her. She put her arm around his shoulders. At least he was not scowling at her as he had been since the day he understood she was to marry Iain. He glared at Iain a lot as well, which just made the man laugh.
“Time to go,” Neddy said. “I got your rings.” He held out his hand, opened it, and pointed to the largest of the two rings. “His ring.” He pointed to the smaller one. “Your ring. See? I ’membered.”
“Yes, very good. I am ready to go now.” She caught him glancing at Maggie, who had moved to her side.
“What that?” he asked, and pointed at her belly.
“A baby,” Maggie replied, and smiled.
“You eated a baby?”
It was hard but Emily swallowed the urge to laugh when she saw his horrified look, and Maggie was not helping by laughing so hard right next to her. Poor Neddy was suffering from a lot of upsetting news lately. No matter what she and Iain said the boy was convinced he was losing her.
“No, honey-pie,” Maggie said, her voice still quivering with amusement. “This is where a mommy carries the baby.” She took his empty hand and placed it against her belly. “It is growing there and, when it is done growing, it will come out.”
Neddy frowned at her stomach. Emily smiled at the fierce look of concentration the boy wore. Then his eyes suddenly grew huge and he yanked his hand back. Emily moved fast to pick him up before he raced out of the room. If he decided to hide, she would need to find another ring bearer.
“It moved. It trying to get out,” he said, his soft but hurried words revealing his fears.
The Scotsman Who Saved Me Page 24