“You think I don’t have regrets, gel?” he’d said gruffly. “I do.”
“Then I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all three of us, but mostly for Mother. She won’t get a second chance to find happiness, but you and I will.”
“Not if you marry that Scotsman, you won’t,” he’d predicted.
“I mean to prove you wrong in that.”
46
I mean to prove you wrong in that.
Kimberly had been doing so all day. She’d been happy all day—after she’d left the earl for the last time and put that visit out of her mind. But for some reason, tonight, she was assailed with doubts again.
They had stopped for the night, not at a coaching inn, as she had assumed they would, but at one of the St. Jameses’ properties that had been prepared especially for their wedding night, compliments of the duke and duchess. Lachlan was as surprised as she was. But their driver and the outriders had had their instructions. And the staff of the large cottage had been notified in advance.
Kimberly was led straight up to the master chamber, where a hot bath had been drawn for her in the separate bathing chamber. Two maids assisted Jean in getting her quickly into it. And when she came back into the main chamber, she discovered a dining table with soft candlelight had been set up there while she bathed, with some delicious aromas coming from a serving cart beside it.
And then yet another surprise. Draped on the large bed with its blue satin sheets already turned down was a new negligee and robe, compliments of Mrs. Canterby, no doubt, at Megan’s behest. Of gossamer silk in a blue-green that had a jewel tone to it when it caught the light, it was not something that Kimberly would ever have chosen for herself. Thin straps that held up a deeply scooped neckline, a waistline that clung to her belly and hips, then flared only slightly on its way down her legs.
Having donned it, she was so shocked by the amount of skin the cleavage displayed, she reached immediately for the robe to cover it up—only to find the robe wasn’t like any robe she knew. There were long sleeves, and an abundance of material at her back that would float behind her when she walked, but not a speck of material in the front to wrap around her. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There was a two-inch border of gathered black lace along the edges that ran behind her neck, just covered the straps of the gown, ran along the sides of her breasts and on down to her feet.
It was half a robe, was what it was, sort of like an over-the-shoulder cape with attached sleeves. It was designed as a complement to the gown, not as a means to hide it. And Kimberly was appalled that she was expected to dine with Lachlan tonight while wearing it.
She was shaking her head, completely balking at the idea, when one of the maids remarked, “I hope you like it, Lady Kimberly. Her Grace the duchess will be so disappointed if you don’t.”
Kimberly could have murdered the girl. Of course, now she had to wear the ensemble. She couldn’t even claim she was too cold to wear it, the crackling fire in the room had it so toasty warm.
Jean, bless her, suggested she might like to wear her cameo with it. Yes, anything to cover a little more skin, even a very little more. But it still wasn’t enough, her breasts were still bursting out of that low cleavage, and she felt more naked than if she wasn’t wearing anything at all. And she had every intention of finding something else to wear, just as soon as Megan’s servants left the room, and would have—if Lachlan didn’t arrive first.
The cameo failed as an added cover. All it did was serve to draw Lachlan’s eyes straight to her cleavage, and she went up in flames of embarrassment, because he seemed shocked too, or at least so surprised that his remark about the enticing smells of food as he walked into the room was cut off abruptly. Nor did he discreetly look away. He simply stared at her breasts, and stared, until one of the maids cleared her throat, and then he blushed as well.
But his charm surfaced, and he immediately set out to put them both at ease, remarking on the journey so far, discussing the route they would take the next day, mentioning the cottage and how he was no longer going to be surprised by the duke’s generosity. He even confessed that Devlin had amazed him by apologizing because he hadn’t believed Lachlan’s story about his stolen inheritance.
Before Kimberly realized that she’d been so distracted she’d forgotten about her revealing cleavage, they were halfway through their dinner, and the maids had quietly departed. And that was when the doubts came to plague her.
Was it presumptuous of her to assume they would have a wedding night? Just because they were sharing a meal in the bedchamber didn’t mean they’d be sharing the bed there as well. Lachlan had done his duty by marrying her. What if he had no intention of playing the husband thereafter? What if he expected a marriage just like her parents’ dismal union? She’d have a hard time pretending she had a perfect marriage in that case, now wouldn’t she?
She was startled out of her thoughts when Lachlan suddenly stood up, tossed his napkin aside, and came around the table to take her hand.
“What—” was all she got out before he was dragging her toward the bed, and stopping there, his hands coming to her cheeks, he gave her such a scorching kiss that her knees buckled and she sagged against him.
He groaned and said against her lips, “I dinna know how I restrained myself as long as I did. I wanted tae toss those blasted maids out the door. I wanted tae crawl across the table and eat you, no’ the blasted food. If you ever wear a gown like this again, I willna be responsible for what I do. Do you ken, Kimber? I dinna need tae be provoked, when I’m already wanting you all the time.”
He sounded angry, and yet his hands were extremely gentle as they caressed their way down her neck and catching on her robe, dragged it off her shoulders and down her arms. And there was such heat in his eyes as they fastened on her gown without its lacy frame.
“I had plans for tonight, darlin’. I was going tae love you so slowly, was going tae make you need me as much as I’ve needed you these many weeks. I was going tae make you beg me tae take you—but now I’m begging.”
He dropped to his knees before her, his arms wrapping around her legs, his mouth pressing into her belly. She caught her breath. She could barely stand.
“Begging…for…what?” she managed to ask, she wasn’t sure how.
“For your forgiveness, because I mun have you now—right now. I swear it feels like I’ll be dying if I wait another minute.”
Her hands came to the top of his head as she replied in a soft whisper, “I’ve no desire to be a widow so soon, Lachlan MacGregor.”
He looked up at her, and then his smile came, so beautiful, so heart-moving. But he wasn’t joking about his need for haste. He stood up, lifted her, and was on top of her on the bed almost all in one motion. And she barely had time to blink before his tongue plunged deeply into her mouth, and his manhood thrust even more deeply into her welcoming warmth.
He groaned again, that she was so ready for him, but why wouldn’t she be? His mention of needing her had sent heat coursing through her. But then she’d known she’d be a sucker for those words if she ever heard them from him. And it only took seconds for her to feel the same tearing need as he drove into her again and again, so that she was there, meeting him on each thrust, and joining him when he soared over the edge on a pulsing wave of bliss.
It took a while for her heartbeat to return to normal, as well as her breathing. She held him close as she recovered, her hands gently caressing him, marveling at the uniqueness of lovemaking, and how powerful were its urges under the right provocation. Lachlan MacGregor was all the provocation she’d ever need.
His face was still buried in her neck, his breathing still hard, when she heard his whisper, “Did I mention something about doing this slowly?”
“I believe you did.”
He leaned up to grin at her. “And something about begging?”
“No—you must have imagined that.”
He chuckled. She rolled her eyes at him. It was a very long night.
br /> 47
Kimberly had heard Kregora Castle mentioned more than once, but somehow she had imagined something not quite so massive and definitely not so old. Well, most castles did have their old parts, the looming circular tower, the surviving great hall, the small but sturdy chapel, yet they also had their modern additions that blended in so nicely that the original castle sections were hardly discernible among all the chimney tops and fancy gables and moldings of more recent architecture.
Kregora, however, was just the opposite. If there was anything modern behind its high stone walls, you couldn’t tell it as you approached. Turrets and crenellations were visible on two huge rectangular towers and—good God, even a drawbridge and portcullis. Could the thing possibly still work after hundreds of years?
After her initial surprise, though, Kimberly had to admit it was a very impressive edifice, sitting as it was on a high bluff of a large lake that wandered and curved through the countryside like a river. And just across the water, hills and mountains rose up to form a varied background for the castle, with the occasional small stone cottage here and there, and even another castle in the far distance, though one not nearly so large as Kregora.
This time of year there was no green to speak of, but those ice-topped mountains and hills were a grand sight on their own, truly magnificent. The entire scene took Kimberly’s breath away, it was so beautiful.
Lachlan had been watching for her reaction, and it was a bit apparent in her expression. He grinned, pleased, and said, “Welcome home, darlin’.”
“For all the stark barrenness of these Highlands of yours, it is rather lovely country, isn’t it?”
“You’ve noticed that, have you?” he replied with a good deal of pride.
“And your Kregora, too.”
“Aye, that she is.”
“But are there fireplaces in there? Warm bedding? Hot bricks?”
The last leg of the journey had been extremely cold, the farther north they traveled, so it was understandable that such things should be on her mind—even if she was teasing him.
And Lachlan laughed. “Dinna fash yourself, Kimber, I’ll be keeping you warm and comfy and the rats away.”
“That’s good to—rats?!”
“Och, well, mayhap only a few wee mice.”
Her eyes narrowed on him, afraid he wasn’t just teasing her back this time. Castles were known to harbor such creatures, after all. But then so did any place that wasn’t kept properly cleaned.
“Well, if you do have any mice running about, I promise you they’ll soon be looking for a new home,” she said with a determined glint in her eyes.
Lachlan smiled at the thought. Winnifred, to give her her due, had been an excellent housekeeper. She’d kept Kregora running smoothly without ever seeming to be active at it. Nessa, who had taken over the same responsibilities, would rather be out in the kennels playing with her favorite hounds, or out hunting grouse. The castle had deteriorated under her supervision, though she had too much pride to ever acknowledge that.
Thinking of his tomboyish cousin, Lachlan asked, “Did I tell you about Nessa?”
“Your cousin who fancies herself in love with you and thought you ought to have married her instead?” she replied. “That Nessa?”
Lachlan flushed with ire. “Which of those frog-kicking devils told you?”
She smiled at him. “Actually, they both did, and not together but separately, unaware they’d both had the same idea. I thought it was rather amusing when Gilleonan was telling me the exact same thing Ranald already did.”
“I would have been telling you myself,” he said in a low grumble.
“Yes, I can see that. But they both felt they were doing you a service, so you have no reason to be annoyed with them. They wanted me to be assured that you only have brotherly affections for the girl. They seemed to be worried that I might get jealous or some silly thing like that, if I didn’t understand the way of it.” And then she all but snorted. “As if I have a jealous nature.”
Lachlan grinned, remembering that day at an ice-skating pond when her nonexistent jealous nature had come galloping to the fore—just as his had. “Well, I’m hoping Nessa can set aside her stubbornness and come tae her senses about this after meeting you,” he said earnestly. “There’s no reason the tae o’ you canna be friends.”
Two women loving the same man, not very likely…
Kimberly went very still. Her eyes closed. No, she didn’t just have that thought. She was to have remained detached, to enjoy him, yes, to have fun with him, yes, to make him a good wife, yes, but to keep her heart her own. If she loved him, she’d be wanting his love in return, and forever, but she wasn’t going to be getting that.
It was a shame her mood had to be spoiled, just as they arrived at Castle Kregora, driving over the drawbridge. But she would work on regaining a proper perspective on the matter, so that she could exist here with some modicum of peaceful accord with her husband—and get back to pretending that all was just as she would want it to be.
The lord’s return had been anticipated for days, and word had been sent ahead again this morning as to their approximate time of arrival. So the large inner courtyard beyond the high outer walls was filled to capacity with MacGregors who had come from miles around to welcome Lachlan home—and to have a look at his English bride. They were a boisterous lot, some of the men in tartans despite the frigid weather, the blue, green, and black of the MacGregor in ample display on men, women, and children.
What with all the warm greetings and good wishes, it took them quite a while to finally make it through the doors to the great hall, or what Kimberly had assumed would be a great hall. But coming through those mammoth double doors, she was pleased to find that although Castle Kregora hadn’t been changed on the outside, it had definitely undergone complete remodeling on the inside.
What had once been a great hall had been divided into the rooms one would expect to find in most homes, a parlor, a normal-sized dining room, a billiards room, and a few other rooms she would get around to examining later, all with thick wooden walls. In fact, she was to find that every bit of stone inside the castle had been covered with wood for insulation, and some with wainscotting and wallpaper on top of that.
She had already discovered the perfect spot to put her mother’s grandfather clock, there in the wide entry hall. And a quick glance into the dining room they passed showed no china cabinet at all, so the chinoiserie, which should have been delivered already with the rest of her belongings, was actually needed.
“So this is her, then?”
Kimberly hadn’t seen the young woman come up behind them, but she had a feeling that sneering tone would belong to Nessa MacGregor, and as Lachlan made the introductions, she found she was right.
She was petite. Kimberly actually looked down on her by at least six inches. And she was strikingly beautiful, with long black hair in an unadorned single braid, and large, stormy grey eyes. She was also reed thin, and struck a regal pose, despite her diminutive height and size.
After the introduction, which she hadn’t acknowledged, and after no more than a brief, derisive glance in Kimberly’s direction, the girl said to Lachlan, “Well, she mun be rich as a queen, because she sure isna pretty. And she’s a blasted giant! What could you be thinking o’, Lach, tae be marrying such a homely looking lass as this?”
It was said loudly, for the benefit of one and all, and dozens of people had followed them into the hall and fell silent now. Kimberly had gasped, her cheeks glowing, never having experienced such direct malice from a woman before. Nessa smiled smugly.
At least she was smug until Lachlan growled, “You little witch. She has a unique beauty of her own, and you’re blind if you dinna see it. And she’s no giant. For me, her size canna be more perfect. If you dinna think so, ’tis because you’re no bigger than a child yourself.”
That struck a nerve apparently, and had Nessa shouting, “A child who came up wi’ the money you needed! You d
idna have tae go marrying no damned Sassenach just for her money!”
“As it happens, Nessa, I asked the lady tae marry me when I thought she was poor as a kirk mouse. Did it no’ occur tae you in your one-sided thinking that I might love her? And dinna be calling her a Sassenach again, when she’s got a father as Scottish as you and me.”
“Who?”
“Never mind who—”
“Aye, as I thought,” the girl interrupted with a smirk. “’Tis a lie tae try and make her acceptable here, which she’ll ne’er be.”
Lachlan’s scowl turned positively black at that accusation and he gritted out, “So now I’m a liar, am I? ’Tis Ian MacFearson if you mun know—” The collective gasp that followed had him glancing about the hall to add, “And I dinna want that spreading beyond Kregora. I’d as soon the legend doesna pay us a visit.”
There were many nods of agreement, and that last had apparently worked to silence Nessa as well. Lachlan was still furious that she’d managed to spoil his homecoming with her jealousy, and embarrass Kimberly, who was still tight-lipped and pink cheeked.
Kimberly was more than embarrassed, she was shocked. Jealousy was no excuse for that type of mean-spirited behavior, words meant to cut to the quick. The girl deserved a good slap. Had no one ever taught her better?
Apparently not, and Kimberly had little doubt that this wouldn’t be the end of her spite. Was she expected to put up with such verbal attacks every time she and Nessa came upon each other? Not bloody likely.
Lachlan had come to her defense. It wasn’t the first time, and it was apparently his nature to do so. But in this case, she was his wife. He could do no less in front of his kin. And he’d even lied, in reference to loving her. Well, actually, he hadn’t needed to. The way he’d put the question, it implied much, but didn’t admit a thing.
However, Nessa lived here. There would be times when Lachlan wouldn’t be available to intervene. And Kimberly had no idea how much abuse she could put up with before she fought back. She supposed she was going to find out.