Maggie threw down her veil to give him an exuberant hug. “Oh, Robert, you darling. Are you giving us your blessing?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “You’re as incorrigible as your sister. Still, if you are going to marry a Scotsman at least he is a person of position.” He looked up at Connor. “However, as far as abductions go—”
Connor grimaced. “I know. Very gauche. I remember now what was bothering me about the west wing as an abduction route. The former occupants turned their own cannons on the turret rather than surrender to the British. They planned to blow the stairs to bits.”
Furtive footsteps crept through the doorway toward them. Three curious female faces peered into the torchlit shadows. “I forgot to tell you about the west turret staircase, Buchanan,” the duchess said sheepishly. “Despite this oversight, everything obviously went well with the abduction.”
Connor drew Maggie back against his chest, laughing in triumph. “Everything is fine, Morna. Please don’t shoot anyone.”
The wedding was performed at midnight by the village justice of the peace. The sleepy magistrate blinked in the candlelight and yawned through the ceremony. He wore a kilt over his nightshirt and apologized for forgetting his spectacles.
Robert acted as best man and even managed to strike up a friendship with the duchess, who accepted an invitation to visit the chateau sometime next spring.
Claude served Highland whisky and Maggie’s collapsed mushroom soufflé.
Ardath served as maid of honor and was on her best behavior.
Connor wore a hunting coat and several fresh bruises from his fall down the staircase. He supposed he should be grateful he hadn’t killed himself. His eyes were riveted to his bride during the impromptu reception that followed. For once his celebrated eloquence failed him. He’d always assumed that this sort of personal happiness was an illusion that people chased but never found.
But suddenly his life was complete. He couldn’t imagine a future without Maggie. With her, he felt capable of conquering the entire world, which was a good thing since he would soon be returning to a murder trial and this tangled mess with Sheena. He would have loved to press charges against her husband, but as he’d told Maggie earlier, a woman can’t be abducted if she goes willingly with her abductor. His feelings were still hurt. He wasn’t sure he could forgive his sister.
Connor knew the fine points of the law. He had quite a few things left to learn about love, though, and after all these years, he still found himself unsettled by the women in his life.
“I have brought you a birthday present, Connor,” Ardath announced as the tired but cheerful party began to disperse.
He slipped his arm around Maggie’s waist, impatiently controlling the urge to drag her out of the room. Nobody was going to stop him from taking his bride to bed. “My birthday was in August.”
“In that case, it’s a wedding present.” She motioned to Morna and Rebecca, who dragged a large rectangular object out from behind the sofa.
The present turned out to be a beautifully woven tapestry of the lion dancing with his princess at their wedding; it was the last in the sought-after series. Robert removed a monocle from his pocket to examine it and declared it genuine. His scarred face looked soft and faintly sad in the candlelight.
“I wish you a lifetime of peace together, and I envy you for finding each other.” He kissed Maggie gently on the forehead. “You have my heartfelt blessing. Be happy, ma petite.”
The tapestry was hung in a place of honor in the bedroom of Connor’s Edinburgh town house, where an angel had taken on the devil and come away with quite a lot more than she’d bargained for. In fact, they both had.
The priceless tapestry looked down on the two figures lost in each other on the bed below. Tangled sheets. A masculine growl of aggression. A woman’s sigh of delight. The Lord Advocate of Scotland making love to his abducted bride, so engrossed in pleasuring her that they would be late to host the party that was already in progress.
He didn’t care.
He strained over her, his head thrown back in fierce absorption. He lost track of time when he was with her. She made him forget that a world beyond her mischievous smile had ever existed.
He collapsed on the bed with a loud groan of satisfaction. Maggie smiled, tingling all over, and prodded his foot with her big toe. “I hope no one heard that. Don’t fall asleep again, your worship. We have to get dressed. Everyone in Edinburgh is here.”
“Give me five minutes.”
“Connor, you’ve been saying that all day.”
“Have a heart.” He grinned, his hand stealing up her rib cage to her breast. “The Balfour case is opening tomorrow. According to rumor, my ‘activities’ the night before determine my degree of success.”
Maggie studied him for a moment. “If one were to go by your ‘activities’ you should win every case for the next seven years.”
He winked at her. “Shall we try for a nice even eight?” They were quiet for a moment. They both knew that this might be the last night for a long time when Connor would be free to enjoy himself.
“Two reliable witnesses have finally come forth to testify against Lord Montgomery,” he said in a subdued voice.
Maggie released a sigh. “Who?”
“Montgomery’s former secretary and a prominent apothecary who remembers seeing him walking past his shop shortly after the time of the murders.”
“What about the men who attacked Donaldson?” Maggie asked worriedly.
Connor laughed. “The Chief found them—let’s just say that Arthur used his own, not entirely legal, methods to make them admit they worked for Montgomery.”
“I think Thomas works too hard,” Maggie said.
Connor only smiled. The minute Donaldson began to recover he had tracked down the letters that proved Montgomery was being blackmailed for his past sins. As a reward for all his dedicated work, Connor had appointed his protégé to the prestigious Faculty of Advocates.
Connor himself could hardly wait to confront Montgomery in court. The newspapers predicted that the newly appointed Lord Advocate would stalk justice like a lion in the jungle.
It was true. The scent of victory tantalized him. He would win this case as a tribute to his wife.
He had just trapped her beneath him again and was kissing her senseless when Ardath knocked quietly at the door.
“I know you’re both in there,” she said. “Nobody is going to believe that tired cravat story again, Connor. Tear yourself away from your lovely wife and hie it downstairs before I run out of excuses. There is a limit to even my charm.” Her voice faltered. “Donaldson is here with his mother, he looks well, and Sheena just arrived, as big as a barn and weeping like a waterfall. Be kind to her, won’t you?”
Connor fell back on his forearm. “The hell I will.”
Maggie scooted to the edge of the bed before he could stop her. “You’ll have to forgive her eventually. After all, you’re going to be an uncle to her child. Who are you to deprive our baby of its little cousin as a playmate?”
His eyes met hers in the mirror, shocked, hopeful. “Our baby?”
“Yes. Sometime at the end of the summer.”
He grinned arrogantly. “That must mean that you conceived—”
“The very first time we made love.” She pursed her lips at his wicked expression, but she was delighted by his reaction. “There is no need to look so smug. It was bound to happen. Men sire offspring every day.”
He dragged her back into the bed and possessively lifted her into his arms. “Not with my wife they don’t. Are you going to get dressed, or shall I explain to our guests that Lady Buchanan is indisposed?”
“Who will rescue you from Philomena Elliot if I don’t?” she asked with a grin. “The poor woman all but published your engagement to her in the papers.”
“I should bring libel charges.” He reached behind him for her petticoats and drawers, forcing himself not to touch her. “Stop torturing me with your
body. In fact, if you don’t get dressed right now, the party will have to be canceled, and I mean it.”
Sighing, she dressed in an apple-green silk gown and followed him across the room, pausing halfway to glance around. Several loud taps sounded at the balcony door. “Connor,” she said in a low voice.
“What is it?”
“There’s someone rapping at the balcony door.”
“I can hear that, Maggie. I was hoping we could ignore it.”
“Well, I think you should see who it is. It might be important.”
He frowned and moved around her to open the door. Frosty winter air crept into the room. Connor couldn’t say the intruder’s identity came as much of a surprise. “What do you want, Arthur?”
The Chief grinned and leaned around Connor to wave at Maggie. “I’ve brought ye a wedding present, lad. Sorry it’s a bit late, but I had a job putting it all together.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” Maggie said, waving back. Connor pulled Arthur into the room. “I hope to God no one saw you. Didn’t it occur to you to knock at the front door like a normal person?”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that, lad,” Arthur said with a deep sigh. “You and I both have our images to uphold.”
Maggie came up behind Connor. “I love presents. What did you bring us?”
“Just a wee gift to welcome ye home.” Arthur opened his heavy black coat to reveal an entire silver service stuffed into the coat’s satin lining. “It might come in handy, Maggie, now that ye’re the Lord Advocate’s wife and have to act as hostess at these fancy parties.”
“Arthur, you are the kindest man.”
“No, he isn’t,” Connor exclaimed, studying the platter Arthur had just unloaded onto the bed. “These are my initials. This is the service I ordered from the silversmith last month that was stolen from his shop.”
Maggie smiled. “It’s amazing how things work out, isn’t it?”
Arthur placed a gravy boat in Connor’s hand. “I’ll be off now, lad, before I’m caught fraternizing with the enemy. Remember what I said about taking care of Maggie. I’d hate to make yer life hell.”
Then he was gone.
Connor quickly closed the balcony door and ushered Maggie across the room. “Giving me my own stolen silver as a wedding present. The gall of it.”
“Connor.”
“Now what is it, Maggie?”
“The strangest thing.” She drew him back toward the bed, her face lifted in wonder to the wall. “It’s the tapestry. Did you notice that the lion is laughing now? I’m sure he was scowling before.”
He gave her an indulgent look. “Whatever you say, my pregnant little wife. Come on. We’re late.”
He guided her gently ahead of him, stopping in the hall when he noticed the figure staring up at them from the bottom of the stairs. He still hadn’t decided how to deal, with her.
Sheena.
She watched him with shame and hope and a little-girl-lost look in her eyes. Then Henry, her husband, came up behind her, placing his hand protectively on her shoulder. Connor felt a strange rush of anger and admiration that they thought their love powerful enough to fight him.
“Good evening, your worship,” Henry said with an uncertain smile.
Maggie glanced up at Connor plaintively. “For me,” she whispered.
He sighed. “Good evening, Sheena. Henry. I’m glad you both could come. I—” He glanced at Maggie. “I was wondering whether you would like to live at Kilcurrie until you’re on your feet.”
Donaldson and his mother appeared behind Sheena. Maggie hurried down to join the group, throwing her husband a look of gratitude that melted his heart. But he didn’t follow her, glancing back at his bedchamber door. So much had happened since that first night.
Something drew him back into the room. Frowning, he walked past the bed and stepped closer to the wall. By damn, it hadn’t been Maggie’s imagination.
The lion was laughing.
But that wasn’t what impressed Connor at all.
The amazing thing was that he understood exactly why the big beast looked so pleased with himself. He felt the same wicked exhilaration.
He and the tapestry lion shared a secret. They had been tamed by an innocent lady. They had won the love of a woman whom they surely did not deserve.
But, being beasts, they would claim that love anyway.
They would guard their women with their fives, and the many offspring that came of their mating. Possessive husbands, proud and protective papas to their cubs.
After all, the golden threads of the medieval tapestry promised a happy ending to their tale and a love that would endure forever. Their fate had been woven centuries ago, waiting for the perfect moment to unfold.
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