Chapter 12
A week later, Struan still had no idea what the hell he’d been thinking when he agreed to marrying anyone, let alone someone as…
sweet…as Elspeth. It was like inheriting a spaniel.
There was no one she wasn’t happy to see, there was nothing she wasn’t happy to do.
Every day since the third day, she led a brigade of servants to room after room, directing footmen to move furniture about, maids to take down draperies, and all manner of other requests.
(They were never phrased as orders, but rather something like “Douglas, would you be so good as to take down that oil painting on the east wall? Do have Neil carry the other side. I have no idea who that old lady is, but she is frowning already, and we don’t want to give her more to worry about, do we?
”) And the servants did everything she asked, quickly and without complaint.
This wasn’t confined to when they were in her presence either. Struan overheard two of the maids talking as they cleaned and dusted.
“She said, ‘The brasses are well polished, Jeannie. Excellent work.’ She knew my name, after only a few days!”
“Aye, and she knows what we all do,” the other marveled. “The lady of the house knows it’s Young Angus scrubs the pots!”
“Do you think she’ll hold fine parties? I’d love to see a Christmas ball.” Jeannie sighed.
“Who’d come to a fine party here? She’ll go back to Edinburgh and have the party at the master’s home in the city. That’s what ladies do.”
“How d’you know what ladies do?”
“Read about it, don’t I? In the newspaper whenever Madame Mouse writes her column. New Town Tattle! Oh, she always describes what the ladies are wearing, down to the pins and lace!”
“She doesn’t have a very fine wardrobe,” Jeannie noted sadly. “I’d hoped for satin and silk.”
“Oh, she’ll have more coming soon,” the second maid replied. “Ladies always have trunks and trunks of clothing. They’ve got mountains of boxes just for their hats and shoes. You’ll see.”
Struan walked on, thinking of the maid’s last comment.
Did Ellie have more things coming? She hadn’t said so.
And she didn’t seem to care much for fashion, to judge by her staunch partisanship for that odd purple hue.
He’d have to ask her about it. Struan sure as hell wasn’t going to let someone say his wife wasn’t as well-draped as any woman in Edinburgh.
She was stuck with him for life—she ought to at least enjoy what she wore.
His intention to inquire about Ellie’s clothing was swept aside by a minor catastrophe at one of the farms, however, and Struan spent the next few days helping to repair some homes and almost a half mile of damaged fencing.
He told himself that he wasn’t looking for reasons to avoid Ellie. It was just that whenever he saw her, he was first struck by how damned pretty she was, and then by how little he deserved to be near her, let alone touch her or do any of the things he increasingly wanted to do.
So several days later, he wasn’t prepared when Ellie emerged from a side room in one of her endless purple gowns and asked if he’d allow her to show him something.
“You can show me anything,” he said, hoping he didn’t sound like a man desperate with lust.
Ellie beamed. She didn’t look desperate or lustful in the slightest, more’s the pity.
Damn, he didn’t used to have difficulties with women.
He wasn’t on Calan’s level of attractiveness or charm, but when it came time to meet with a woman he’d had no troubles…
until he was injured. As he was slipping into this pit of despair, Ellie had taken his hand and pulled him down the hall.
She said, “Come with me into the parlor.”
He walked into the room and blinked at the brightness. He recalled the room as dim and cold, but it was now…golden.
The walls had been hung with warm yellow silk.
No more of that heavy puce brocade that suffered after a rainstorm.
The curtains were also different. The heavy drapes that blocked the light were missing.
In their place hung white linen that allowed the light through and let the trees outside lay green shadows over the fabric, like stained glass but impossibly delicate.
Even the furniture was different, the wooden arms of light-colored wood and the fabric seats now covered in pillows in shades of gold.
Ellie was standing the middle, smiling hopefully at him. “What do you think?”
“What did you do?” he asked.
“I simply spruced it up a bit. The room gets wonderful morning light, and it seemed a shame to not take advantage of it.”
“Spruced it up? You’ve changed everything.”
“Well, the old wall hangings couldn’t be salvaged,” she said. “But that’s all that’s new. Other than the pillows, of course. We sewed them from an old bedspread upstairs. You’ll find the seating far more comfortable now, as I’ve restuffed it.”
“What do you mean, restuffed? This furniture is all different.”
“Struan,” she said with a merry laugh, the laugh that he’d dreamed of hearing within these very walls. “It’s the same. It’s just been cleaned.”
“What?”
“There is little in this world that cannot be improved with hot water, vinegar, and some effort. Have a seat.”
He sat. He remembered the couch as somehow both stiff and saggy—a combination that led him to avoid the parlor in past years. But now he sank back against the pillows and found it surprisingly… “Good,” he grunted.
“It will be an excellent room for entertaining now.”
“Enter-what?”
Her smile faltered. “We spoke of hosting a dinner…for the neighbors. Do you not recall?”
He did not. “When? I mean, when do you intend to have this dinner?”
“I’m not sure, honestly. I don’t know who to invite either. A neighbor called on us few days ago while you were working with the tenants, and I returned the courtesy yesterday. She lives on the south road.”
“Who? Old Mrs March?”
“She’s not that old! She’s very sweet. But I think most people don’t know you’ve come back to live. So I’d like to host a dinner.”
“That sounds excruciating,” he replied, although the actual spoken words were, “Yes, that’s fine.” He looked at the room again. “Out of curiosity, how much did this cost?”
“Oh, nothing!” she said hurriedly.
“It must have cost something.”
“I mean, it cost you nothing.”
“How is that possible?”
“I used my pin money. I didn’t think it fair to make you spend more than you have already.”
“You used your pin money for the house? Never do that.”
Her face fell. “Why not?”
“Because there’s a budget for the house. The pin money is yours to use as you like.”
“I like to make the rooms homier.” She gave him that hopeful smile again, the one that was increasingly making him woozy.
“That’s fine, but use the house money for the house. Your pin money ought to be for…you. Whatever you like for yourself.”
She looked puzzled, as if the idea of spending money on herself had never occurred to her. “But I don’t need anything. You provide all I’d ever need.”
Like hell. He’d given her precisely nothing.
“You could buy a new dress. Or a hat. Or some…I don’t know, what do women buy when they’re out and about a high street?”
Her expression clouded. “There wasn’t much time for that.”
He didn’t know what that meant, but before he could ask, Elspeth unleashed her relentless cheer again. She said, “I’ll see to it that the money is taken from the proper accounts. Forgive me for not understanding your preferences.”
“I never explained them,” he admitted. Then he added, “You have nothing to worry about when it comes to my worth, and by extension your worth.”
“But isn’t it always good practice to be careful with one’s resources?” Elspeth countered.
“Ellie, I’m not poor. My family’s land produces both tin and lead.
In addition to my cut, the mines provide an income for the men who live in the area and help to support their families at a time when it’s sorely needed.
There’s not much else to provide a living in this part of the country.
Those who live along the shore will fish.
Those who live inland can farm in a modest way, so long as they don’t hope to grow much more than oats and vegetables.
There are sheep, of course, which provide a little bit of income from wool and weaving.
“But the mines are the one thing that has allowed the people living here some real security, including myself. I’ve benefited from the income and investments made by my predecessors.
And believe me, I’ve got more than enough to maintain you, me, and this household in a fairly comfortable way for the rest of our lives. ”
“So,” Elspeth said. “Am I to understand that you wish me to be more silly in my spending?”
“Somewhat silly,” he corrected her, enjoying the fact that he had not only managed to have a mature conversation with his wife about a typical household matter, but also that she seemed to genuinely want to be in the same room with him.
He stood up and moved to stand by her. “I don’t believe that you could ever be persuaded to fully change your philosophy at this point, seeing as you’re such an old and crotchety woman. ”
Elspeth laughed again, and yes, he was more woozy than before. He might need to lie down. Possibly near her.
She said, “Well, I promise that I won’t use my pin money for items that I require for the house. But I’m not entirely sure how I would spend it, since there’s not a lot of opportunity for shopping on a high street. Not that I would do that anyway, even in Edinburgh. I was never good at indulgence.”
“Do you wish you were back in Edinburgh?” he asked.
“No. I’m happy here. Of course, someday I expect that we’ll go back and spend some time there. When the occasion calls for it. But you’ve spent so much time away from your home that it would be painful for you to leave it again so soon.”
He paused, regarding her. “You’re always thinking about how other people feel, aren’t you?”
“Isn’t that what everybody does?”
“Assuredly not. If that were so, there would be fewer wars.”
Elspeth suddenly sobered. “At least here at home, you never need to worry about war touching you again. This has to be the most peaceful place in the whole world.”
“Do you think so?”
“Oh, yes. It’s so different from the city.
Here there’s just so much space in the sky and when you walk outside, I feel like the whole landscape is just waiting to be discovered.
I could walk for miles in any direction…
well, except for the sea, obviously. I think I’ll always find something interesting.
But not the sort of interesting that requires action.
I could just sit on a hillside and contemplate.
I never used to be able to do that before. ”
Struan couldn’t take his attention off her face as she spoke, and without meaning to, his gaze caught on her lips. Ellie noticed at last, and her happy chatter faltered. Her chest rose and fell a little faster. While she wasn’t a flirtatious person, he could tell that she was curious.
So he leaned down toward her. He moved slowly, giving her plenty of room to step away or refuse him. But she tilted her head up, those big eyes open and inviting.
He kissed her.
She was silk and sugar. He ran his tongue along her lower lip, wetting the skin.
The little intake of breath, and the way her mouth opened for him, was heaven.
He slipped his tongue in deeper, reveling in her softness, imagining all the other soft places of her body where he’d use his tongue later.
He’d never been a particularly patient lover, and now after such a long time without any physical exchange with a woman, he was already aching to turn this kiss into something much more intimate.
Ellie’s response added fuel to the fire, because she’d raised her hands to his head and was running her slender fingers through his hair as she pulled him closer.
He loved the way she darted her tongue in and out between his lips, like she was testing the waters. Which he supposed she probably was. Had she kissed anyone before like this, with open mouth and shuddering breath? He hoped not. He wanted to be the first person she craved.
Ellie’s hands had moved downward while he was consumed with her perfect lips, and with a jolt, he realized that she had one hand on his neck, where the scarring was thick.
She wouldn’t crave that, once she saw his skin. Struan was only fooling himself to think she would. He growled in frustration.
Ellie heard it and pulled away, her eyes wide. “What’s wrong? Should I not have done something?”
“No, it’s not you,” he said, but it was too late. She’d sensed his mood shift and misread it as a rebuke.
He tried to correct his mistake. He kissed her again, as gently as he could. But her mouth was pursed now, worried. “You’re perfect, Ellie.” Unlike him.
Ellie’s answering kiss was so frozen that he gave up. “I scared you,” he guessed. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Of course you didn’t scare me,” she replied. “I’ll do whatever you ask me to do. I want to do it to make you happy.”
To him, it sounded like she was trying to convince herself of the words, and that moment of happiness he’d just felt was already shattered. “I don’t want to push you into anything.”
“I’m your wife. This is what we’re meant to do, isn’t it?”
“Not if you’re not ready.”
“I am!”
That was the reflexive answer of a woman who was used to saying yes to everything because she never knew she could give another answer. He’d heard that tone before, when men responded to superiors instantly and unthinkingly, because that’s what they were trained to do.
He straightened up and kept his expression as blank as possible. “I have some matters to attend to. I’ll see you at dinner, Ellie.”
She nodded, and he tried not to notice the hurt in her eyes. He felt like he just kicked a puppy. But he also knew that there was nothing normal about their marriage, and she was definitely not ready to sleep with him. Probably she never would be.
So all he had to worry about was spending a whole lifetime failing to make her happy.
Fantastic.