“Exactly how much of you did he see?” Georgina teased.
The blush spreading across Fiona’s face told her everything.
“I thought you lassies weren’t supposed to be shy about these things! Georgina exclaimed.
“I’m not shy!” Fiona retorted in haste. Then calmly she continued, “It’s just rather a different thing when it’s a man that I've been in love with for many years. It isnae the same thing at all as when it's just some git with nice arms.”
“Oh, well, forgive me for misunderstanding!” Georgina laughed.
They spent another hour talking about their hopes and dreams and the men they wanted to share them with. For Georgina, the month could not pass quickly enough.
Chapter 36
It was a week after Marcas was made Laird and he announced that a wedding would be happening soon. By now, the whole clan was well aware of the fact that his bride-to-be was English and the story of her rescue from Morgan Bolton was well-purported.
Georgina was considered one of their own and she didn’t wish it to be any other way.
Following a week later, Fiona and Alpin announced their decision to wed as well.
“I ken it seems right quick, but we’ve been in love for years and neither of us had the bawsack to confess it!” Fiona had declared.
The day before Georgina and Marcas were set to wed, he told her that he had a surprise.
“Oh? And what might that be?” she asked.
“Why dinnae ye join me in the library?” he suggested.
Georgina eyed Marcas with playful suspicion. He turned to ascend the stairs to the library and she followed, uncertain of what he was soon to reveal.
Just outside the door, he stopped and looked at her with joy in his face.
“Now, petal, ye have tae remember tae keep yer hands off me. See, ye’re going tae love me so much after this that it’s going to be damn near impossible not to jump me bones right there and then,” he teased.
Georgina gave him a look of playful attitude at his arrogance.
“Will you please just give me my present already?” she asked with mock petulance.
Marcas opened the door and allowed her to step through first. There, amidst the book-lined walls, stood her father.
“Papa!” she gasped, running to him with open arms.
“My dear child! How are you? It is so wonderful to see you,” he said with joy. “I received a letter from the Laird telling me of your engagement. I had to come. I must stay with you until after the wedding.”
“Truly, father?” she asked, needing confirmation that he was really there.
“My dear, I am here, and I shall not leave until I have seen you wed. Indeed, your betrothed has told me a great deal of the goings-on of the past few months and it confirmed many suspicions I was beginning to have about Bolton. I am amazed that you escaped such a fate that I had delivered you into. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Father, there is nothing to forgive! You thought it was best for me. And now, here you are! You are willing to celebrate with me and be a part of my joy in Scotland with my husband. It is more than I could have hoped for,” she told him.
“I am overjoyed to hear that, my dear!”
“Come, sit. It must have been a tiring journey. I am still completely amazed, father! I cannot believe that you are here with me now. When did you make this decision?” she asked.
“Each letter you wrote me weakened my resolve between what I deemed best for you and what seemed most to make you happy, my dear. But it was the letter from the new Laird that helped me to determine that I had to come as quickly as possible. I could not abandon you,” he replied.
Father and daughter spent the rest of the day together, learning about all the events they had each faced in the previous months.
From Georgina’s joys and pains, to her father’s sadness at losing his only daughter, they realized the mutual hurt their decisions had caused and determined never to be the cause of such pain for one another again. In addition to their newfound respect, her father determined to come visit them at least four times a year and to always be present during the big events.
Marcas engaged with them after some time, wanting the two to reconnect but also desiring to know the man who would soon become family. The unity between them was present and invigorating. Marcas saw a chance for real peace between his clan and the English. The same peace his father had worked so hard for.
They stayed up well into the night before Georgina’s father reminded them they needed rest before the events of the following day. No one wanted to be tired for their own wedding.
He bid them goodnight and exited the sitting room they had been entertaining in.
Marcas moved himself to sit right beside Georgina.
“It’s true, ye ken. We had best get some rest tonight. Because ye ken for sure that tomorrow night there’ll be no resting,” he teased.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt about that!”
“It was a lovely honor to learn so much of yer faither. He’s a good man. And I think he will be an avenue of peace. Ye ken how I desire peace,” Marcas said.
“I’m sure it would be a true joy for him to be a part of that,” Georgina confirmed.
“So, I expect I’ll be getting no more than a couple kisses from ye this evening?” Marcas asked, his mind returning to his body and what he longed for.
“Well, perhaps that isn’t all. But you can be sure that you will not be getting me into bed this evening,” Georgina replied, leaning in close and giving him a long, eager kiss.
Marcas felt his erection instantly and Georgina moved her hand to rest on it, though not doing anything more.
“Goodnight,” she said quickly and stood to leave.
“Ach, lass, ye’re awfully cruel!” he cried out.
“Indeed, I am, but tomorrow is going to be a long and exciting day. You can wait,” she teased again.
“So, all I get is a kiss and a touch?” he asked.
Georgina smiled and told him to wait.
Marcas sat, unsure what her plan was, but she returned after ten minutes wearing her robe.
“Ah, so I get a kiss, a touch, and…?”
Quickly, she opened the robe to reveal her full figure. He gazed on her for a moment before she, just as rapidly, closed it and ran out the door and into her bed for the night.
Morning came, and Fiona barged into Georgina’s room to wake her.
She was too late. Georgina had already bathed and brushed her hair. She was ready to dress and Fiona helped her with all the things left she needed to do.
“Here, I ken ye’ve brushed it but ye have tae wear yer hair up today,” Fiona ordered.
“As you wish…”
“I wish.”
It was not long before Georgina was ready.
In fact, she had been ready since the moment she spotted a man with fiery red hair at an English wedding months before.
Epilogue
Two months later
Joy overwhelmed Georgina’s heart. It was done. Marcas had been her husband for two months and nothing could change that now.
In the previous days, they had celebrated their marriage and had become extremely loved by their own clan as well as those surrounding. For Fiona, it was a sign that she was where she had always belonged.
The mourning for their lost, under Conall’s Lairdship, would never fully depart but it did not taint his good name. He was remembered for his excellence, his strength and his bravery in battle.
Georgina loved every minute of her life, and Marcas had made it exciting and thrilling as ever. He always knew how to surprise her, and now, Georgina watched him as he drove the horses onward to the place he had been wanting to take her.
He looked strong and determined, and Georgina smiled at the set of his jaw. Here, it seemed to her, he felt free. He felt brave.
Sitting behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist, she had to twist herself to gain this sight, but it was worth it for the sho
rt glimpses she had.
Marcas was hers and she was his.
Finally, she felt him slow the horse. They had arrived.
“Here we are lass,” Marcas said with a grin.
Before them, Georgina saw only trees in a thick forest.
“Where is ‘here’?” she asked with trepidation. Marcas’ smile was full, showing straight, white teeth.
“Here, petal, is a surprise,” he replied.
Taking her hand in his, Marcas led Georgina into the trees. But it was not for long.
Georgina saw the unexpected gateway to a clearing. It seemed a magical place. Gentle waterfalls filled pools, reflecting countless colors around them.
“We call them the fairy pools,” Marcas explained.
“I’ve no doubt why,” she replied with a gasp.
Marcas looked at her face to register her expression. The look of awe told him everything.
“Ye were the loveliest bride me eyes have ever seen, and I love ye more every day since,” he remarked, unable to pull his gaze away from his wife.
Georgina turned to him and laced the fingers of both her hands in his.
“And you are the strongest, bravest, manliest man mine have ever seen and my love for you will continue to grow day after day.”
Marcas wrapped his arms around Georgina and kept her in an embrace.
“Would ye care to swim?” he asked. A smile spread across her face as she began to undress before him as if it were a show. Marcas watched her, in awe of the vision. His eyes were fixed with fascination.
Once fully exposed, Georgina slowly waded into one of the pools. Marcas eagerly removed his kilt in response, revealing his desire for his wife.
He followed her in and held her in the cool water. Their lips met, and Georgina felt him pressing against her.
“My goodness, my Laird. You are quite the man even in these cold waters,” Georgina said and laughed.
Marcas beamed with pride.
“Aye right, lass. And if ye want it, I can show ye just how much of a man I am here and noo,” he replied.
Georgina responded by shifting her body to accommodate him.
After leaving the fairy pools, Marcas set up shelter just outside the clearing. They would sleep there that night and then return to Carnarvan in the morning. He wished he could have her to himself for weeks, but being Laird meant his duties were at home.
Besides, the wedding of Fiona and Alpin was only a short week away and he knew he could not be gone for that, no matter how desperately he wished to stay only with Georgina.
“Lass, I promise ye we will come here any time ye wish,” Marcas said suddenly, lying on the pile of tartans that he had used for their bed.
“Then I am afraid we must never leave for I cannot imagine ever wanting to be anywhere else!” Georgina replied.
Marcas laughed.
“I dinnae blame ye. It is quite beautiful, and I do love it as well. But ye ken, as Laird, I dinnae have the luxury of disappearing and all that,” he said.
“I know but it doesn’t mean I can’t beg you,” Georgina said.
“If ye’re going to beg me for anything, this isnae what I have in mind,” he teased.
“My goodness, Laird Marcas! Can your brain find anything else to think of or is that it’s only path?” she asked.
“Aye, right, me lass. When ye are around, that is just about the only thing it can consider,” he replied.
They laughed together and snuggled closer, engaging in a thrilling kiss. Georgina could not get enough of his teasing.
After they returned to Carnarvan, Georgina helped Fiona put the finishing touches to her dress. She had wanted something especially stunning to wear when she married Alpin, so they worked together to embroider thistle along the bottom.
The thistle was everything they wanted to represent their clan. It was beautiful, unique and appeared fine and delicate, but once one got close enough they realized the way it could protect.
For Fiona, it was the type of wife and mother she wanted to be, willing to prick anyone who might try to mess with her family. Georgina laughed at the analogy but realized that it was true. Nothing mattered so long as her family was protected.
On the day of Alpin and Fiona's wedding, the clan gathered and was filled with joy. They had lost and mourned a Laird who had not been in power for long, but they gained a new Laird, one they trusted even more.
Then their Laird gained a wife and now his sister, a husband. Their legacy finally had a chance to thrive and continue.
For Marcas and Fiona, the many losses in their family had been distressing and painful but now their families would grow and flourish, and it was a new beginning for them all.
The End?
Extended Epilogue
Eager to learn how Georgina’s and Marcas’ relationship evolved? Then enjoy this complimentary short story featuring the beloved couple.
Simply TAP HERE to read it now for FREE! or use this link: http://lydiakendall.com/0mvh directly in your browser.
I guarantee you, that you won’t be disappointed ♥
But before you go, turn the page for an extra sexy and wild Scottish treat from me…
More sexy historical romance
Turn on to the next page to read the first chapters of The Highlander's Enigmatic Bride, one of my best stories so far!
The Highlander's Enigmatic Bride
Chapter 1
1783, England
They said, “James, you’re a bloody fool for befriending the Scots.”
They said, “Any Englishman knows you can’t trust them buggers.”
The townsfolk concurred: their fallen hero —loved and adored by all who knew him — had been betrayed.
“I heard he saved the life of that dreadful Edan.”
“And he never saw it coming.”
“How could he know the very life he saved would be the hand to end his.”
"May the Good Lord bless his soul, and may He be with the Browns who bear this pain."
And now, the Duke of Gordon watched his son’s body being lowered in the ground. His one remaining eye filled with salty tears he kept hidden from the mourners. His daughter, Isabel placed her hand gently on his arm.
“I know, father,” she hushed so no one would hear.
He placed his large, soft hand on top of hers and gave a squeeze.
One by one the black-clad attendees drifted to their homes before the English spring rains began to fall. But for Isabel and her father, the gloom was setting in.
James, his father, and his Uncle Ezra had been traveling the highlands. They were crossing their territory and found themselves ambushed by the Clan Mccallion. It was bad enough for him to lose his eye in the melee, but to lose his son was too great a price to pay. The Duke of Gordon was returning home — a broken man — to bury his son. Ezra tried to recount the story but found himself overcome with emotion and unable to finish the tale.
Isabel Brown will never forgive this heinous act of violence — and she will never forget! This was to be a one woman’s WAR against the clan Mccallion.
Upon returning to the grand house, Isabel entered her chambers with a stern determination to remain strong for her father. Although the sadness nearly broke her, she was stoic. She would be strong and brave. She missed James already; after all, he had been more than a brother to her. He had been a dear friend. Their childhood was punctuated by the knowledge of the battles fought with the Jacobites, but ultimately, they had been happy.
“My lady, begging your pardon, but may I help you dress for dinner?” Her servant, Charlotte, offered. Isabel couldn’t think of eating when she felt such pain. Yet, she knew she would be expected at the grieving table where her father and uncle would dine with friends and extended family in mourning.
“Indeed, I suppose I must.” From her rained-on funeral gown and into a fresh cascade of black taffeta, Isabel emerged. She glanced in the looking-glass at her reflection. The black was a stark contrast to her white blonde
hair, now pulled back into a bun to hide beneath more black fabric, and her green eyes shone from her pale face. She looked too thin in her grief, yet the eyes of her brother still shone back at her. Despite his large frame and his father’s masculine nose and chin, people always knew they were siblings by the eyes they had received from their mother before her early death, which came before Isabel’s memories began.
The Highlander's Secret Maiden: A Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 27