Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jeane looked down at the letter she had written to Beatrice, sighing softly.
She had tried to explain everything, and she was sending identical letters to her other friends, Annabel and Agnes.
They had been quite a little gang when they were children, running around the woods and gathering flowers and herbs, making friends with the wildlife, getting their dresses and shoes dirty, and infuriating their parents.
Annabel was a happy spinster, and Agnes had not found her true love yet. Beatrice was the only one who had married out of the clan, to a man from the McArthur castle named Campbell.
They were deliriously happy, and Jeane could only hope that she would be just as happy with Fergus.
She took the letters to a messenger, and as he took off, Jeane watched, wishing that he could bring her friends back to her.
“What if they daenae come?” she asked Lottie as they stood in the fresh air.
Lottie was not just on the mend but almost entirely better, her breathing slow and even and without even a wheeze, just in time for summer.
“Of course, they’ll come,” Lottie assured her, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Ye went to Beatrice’s wedding, aye?”
“Aye,” she agreed. “I almost couldnae go… Me father was upset with me. I got in trouble for some stupid thing.”
“I’m glad he’s dead,” Lottie said bluntly, and Jeane leaned against her.
She could not say she exactly felt the same way, but close. She was glad her father could no longer interfere in her life, but she wished he had been a better father—a better man.
But she supposed that if he had been, she would never have met Fergus. Perhaps the way things went was the way they were always meant to go.
Aiden came up behind Lottie and placed a flower behind her ear. Lottie turned, grinning and wrapping her arms around his neck. Aiden had announced his intention to court Lottie in front of Fergus right after the attack.
Jeane imagined he had not wanted to take any chances of losing Lottie.
“What do ye two think ye’re doin’?” Fergus barked as he walked by, but they just kept looking at each other dreamily.
“The door isnae closed,” Lottie teased and kissed Aiden.
Aiden made a startled sound against her mouth and chastely kissed her back.
“Still doesnae mean we all need to see it,” Fergus said with a grimace, but Jeane could see the edge of a smile turning up one corner of his mouth.
The two lovebirds finally separated, Aiden heading to the training area while Lottie went back inside and up to her room, and Fergus and Jeane were left alone out in the gardens.
“What kind of flowers will ye want in yer hair?” Fergus asked.
“Ye want me to have flowers in me hair?”
“Of course. It’s tradition.”
“Aye,” Jeane said with a smile, looking up at him before nuzzling against his neck. “I suppose it is.”
“So what kind of flowers? Roses? Daisies? Dandelions?”
Jeane snorted. “We’ll have the whole church coughin’ up dandelion puffs.”
Fergus hummed, pressing his lips along her neck and making her shiver.
“Fergus,” she warned. “Nae before the weddin’.”
He groaned. “Nae even a kiss?”
Jeane smiled. “If it would be just a kiss, sure. But I ken what kind of man ye are, Fergus. If I give ye a kiss, ye’ll want more.”
The proof of that was the way his manhood was poking up against her hip as they stood there.
“I cannae wait until after the weddin’,” he pleaded, but Jeane just smiled.
“I think ye’ll live.”
“Ye daenae ken that. I could die of wantin’ ye.”
Jeane giggled and planted a chaste kiss on his mouth, then shivered slightly, pulling her shawl around herself.
Fergus tightened his arms around her, giving her body warmth.
“What’s wrong, little mouse?”
“Just thinkin’ about me father,” she admitted. She could not seem to help herself.
“Daenae waste yer tears on him,” Fergus said, brushing away moisture from her cheek.
“Ye’re right,” she agreed. “I shouldnae waste one second thinkin’ about him.”
She pushed thoughts of her father out of her mind and turned to Fergus. He leaned down to kiss her, but she darted away playfully, and he growled, following her inside.
Fergus thought he might have been losing his mind. He wanted Jeane so badly, and she would not even let him kiss her.
It was torture to hold her and not be able to do anything else, torture to walk her to her bedchambers every night and not even be allowed to brush his lips across her cheek.
Fergus wanted her so badly, wanted to touch her, make her come apart beneath him. He wanted her writhing under him, but he respected that she wanted to wait until after the hand-fasting ceremony.
It was just… difficult.
It was a dreary Sunday morning when Beatrice and Campbell arrived. They came in several carriages, wagons laden with wedding presents. They had gone all out, and Fergus was happy to meet them.
Campbell was a quiet one, but he seemed strong and completely enamored with the bright Beatrice. He stayed a step behind her at all times, as if he always wanted to be near her.
Fergus could understand the impulse. He wanted to touch Jeane always, but she would not sleep in his bedchambers the way he wanted. He supposed it was for the best. He was not sure he could control himself, and he never wanted to push her.
She teased him on purpose, it seemed, wearing these low-cut necklines that showed off her long throat and her ample cleavage.
He wanted her breasts in his hands, his thumbs sliding across her peaking nipples.
He ushered Laird and Lady McArthur into the sitting room, along with Agnes, a sweet, if shy girl, and Annabel, a strong-willed woman who seemed fiercely independent.
She reminded him of Jeane.
He knocked lightly on her chamber door, and when she did not answer, he knocked again before pushing the door open.
Jeane lay on top of the furs instead of under them, a habit she had that made Fergus smile. Often when he would wake her, she would be doing this, but usually, she was wearing more clothes.
This time, on the hot summer night, she must have shed her robe because now she was wearing a shift, and Fergus could see the peaks of her nipples through the fabric, could see how the material stretched tight over her arse and hips.
He groaned softly, and Jeane still did not stir.
She was a heavy sleeper these days since she finally felt safe within the castle.
“Little mouse,” he called, stepping closer and putting a hand on her hip.
Jeane stirred, turning over, and the shift was nearly translucent. Fergus turned his gaze away, his manhood stiffening under his kilt.
She was so gorgeous, with all that white-blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, but he could not have her. Not yet.
Jeane looked up at him with bleary brown eyes.
“Good mornin’, little mouse,” Fergus murmured, sitting down on the bed next to her, hand still on her hip.
She shifted closer to him. “Good mornin’,” she said with a yawn that nearly cracked her jaw.
“I have some good news,” Fergus said, excited to tell her that her friends had come for the wedding.
“Aye?” She sat up, rubbing her eyes.
Fergus smiled at her. “Yer friends have come.”
Jeane bolted straight up. “Me friends? Ye daenae mean—”
“Laird and Lady Campbell and Annabel.”
“Even Annabel?” she gushed, standing up. “Oh, what am I to wear? I havenae seen me friends in so long.”
“Wear that new red dress I bought ye,” he suggested, even though he knew it would be torture to see her in it. It fit her tightly across the hips and thighs with a plunging neckline.
Jeane looked at him. “Ye ken ye cannae watch me change.”
He grunted. “I’m to be yer husband.”
“But ye’re nae me husband yet,” she said in a teasing, lilting voice.
“I’ve already seen yer most private parts,” Fergus said in a low voice, stepping closer to her.
Jeane tsked. “Now, now, daenae start with yer dirty talk.”
“It’s nae dirty. Ye taste like heaven,” he insisted, and Jeane smirked up at him.
Jeane was enjoying this. Fergus could tell. He wanted to lean down and kiss that smirk, but she was already scolding him.
“I’ve had me fingers—” Fergus started, and then Jeane squeaked, blushing and pushing him out of her chambers.
“Out!” she insisted, and Fergus obeyed.
Fergus groaned, standing there outside Jeane’s door. He looked across the hall to see that Aiden was doing the same thing outside Lottie’s door.
“Ye better nae have been in there with the door closed,” Fergus warned.
Aiden’s face was flushed, and Fergus was pretty sure he was lying when he said, “Aye.”
But he could not prove it.
Jeane hurried into her red dress with some of the staff helping her button up the back.
She had Mary braid her hair, leaving a few tendrils loose. It had been years since she had seen the trio of girls who had made her childhood bearable, and she was uncommonly nervous.
She walked into the sitting room and saw Annabel standing there first. Jeane’s eyes instantly filled with tears as the raven-haired beauty hugged her tightly.
“I didnae bring a husband if that’s what ye’re wonderin’,” Annabel teased, and Jeane let out a watery laugh.
“I wouldnae imagine any less,” Jeane said with a big smile through her tears.
Annabel hugged her again before Agnes was at her side.
Jeane drew Agnes in.
“I’m so glad ye could make it.”
“Aye, me too. It’s been too long,” Agnes said.
Campbell stood in the doorway, and Jeane knew Beatrice was nearby, her dearest friend. She did not exactly play favorites, but Beatrice was the one she had spent the most time with.
Beatrice appeared, sobbing as she pulled Jeane into her arms.
“I missed ye so much,” Beatrice sniffled. “And ye didnae even write—”
“I ken. I’m sorry,” Jeane sobbed back. “Me father wouldnae send me letters. I wrote ye one every day. All of ye.”
Beatrice hugged her tightly, nearly cracking her ribs, and Jeane squeaked.
“Little mouse,” Fergus murmured, and all her friends broke out into laughter.
“Nae quite a romantic pet name,” Beatrice teased.
Jeane laughed. “Maybe nae, but it stuck.”
Jeane looked around at all her friends. Her heart felt so full it might burst out of her chest. She had not been around this many people that she loved in many years, and it meant the world to her. She had sent letters but was not sure they would come.
Now, she knew her childhood friends were lifelong.
“I’m so glad ye made it the night before the weddin’,” she said, wiping tears of joy from her eyes. “We can all have dinner together.”
“Aye, we can catch up,” Annabel agreed.
An hour later, dinner was ready in the great hall, and the table was full of guests and the rest of Fergus’ men. The whole clan had come together to decorate the castle for the wedding and reception.
“It’s beautiful here,” Beatrice piped up as the food was being served.
“There’s nae always so many flowers,” Fergus said, and Beatrice chuckled.
“Weddings always require a lot of flowers. Did ye ken that daisies are Jeane’s favorite?”
“Nae anymore,” Jeane said. “It’s foxglove that I like now.”
Beatrice blanched. “Isn’t that poisonous?”
“Only if ye eat it. It’s all right in a decoration.”
“I prefer roses, meself,” Beatrice said, and Campbell spoke up for the first time since they had arrived.
“I will plant all the roses ye want, love.”
Beatrice turned to beam at him, kissing his cheek soundly, and Campbell turned away as if embarrassed, but Jeane could see the slight smile on his face.
“Ye have to tell me all about yer love story,” Agnes insisted.
“Aye, indeed,” Annabel agreed, and Beatrice nodded.
Jeane flushed. “Well, it’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time,” Fergus piped up, and shockingly, he started the story. “I was trainin’ in the woods and got cornered.”
“And I was runnin’ away from me father in the woods.”
“Typical!” Beatrice chirped, and everyone laughed.
“I killed me attacker, and then I saw her,” Fergus murmured, brushing Jeane’s hair back from her face. “And I had to have her.”
“Love at first sight?”
Jeane shook her head, but Fergus spoke up.
“Aye. It was for me,” he said, leaning closer to Jeane and putting his arm around her.
She melted against him, smiling when he kissed her forehead.
“He frightened me at first,” Jeane admitted. “But then I met sweet Lottie and realized that he wasnae a cruel man. He was just a hard man because of his circumstances.”
“The scars?” Beatrice piped up, and Agnes swatted her.
“Daenae be rude.”
“It isnae rude,” Fergus said with a chuckle. “It’s the truth. Aye, the scars humbled me. Made me a different man. I lost a friend, too, and that didnae help matters.”
“Nae to mention that awful betrothed of yers,” Jeane said, making a face.
He laughed. “It’s good that she ran. I think ye would have taken her head off.”
“Aye, I would have,” Jeane said firmly, and Fergus brought her closer, kissing her mouth softly.
She pulled away from him, flushing.
“From the beginnin’, I could tell they were in love,” Lottie said, breaking her silence of the evening.
“Could ye?” Jeane asked, smiling. “Really?”
“Really,” Lottie assured her. “I think that the two of ye were the last to ken how ye felt about each other.”
Fergus nodded. “Aye, Aiden said he saw it too.”
“I did,” Aiden said. “Me Laird hadnae been passionate about anythin’ since the incident, nae until Jeane came along.”
“And he was passionate about her?” Annabel asked, swooning. “Maybe I do want a husband.”
Jeane laughed at her friend, patting her hand.
They talked and laughed and drank long into the night, and by the time it was time for bed, Jeane’s head spun.
Fergus scooped her up, bridal-style, when she stumbled in the hall.
She squeaked, and he chuckled, kissing her cheek.
“I’ve got ye, mouse.”
He carried her to her bedchambers, bidding Mary to come in and help her undress. He glanced at her from the door.
“Tomorrow night, ye’ll be in me bed,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, and Jeane shuddered with nerves and desire.
“Aye,” she breathed, and he broke into that boyish smile of his, leaving the room.
Jeane could not wait to marry the love of her life.