Chapter 15
Only just this morning, Elspeth had been pondering how she might become closer to her husband, but she didn’t anticipate being in his arms while riding on a horse, and she certainly wasn’t prepared for how much of him there was.
His chest and shoulders were broad enough to blot out the village behind them.
He must have shaved that morning—he was rigorous in his habits—and she could smell the lingering scent of the soap he used.
Something in her made her want to curl her arms around him and simply cling to his massive frame.
His thighs reminded her of tree branches…
though definitely more comfortable to sit upon.
Firm, but with a bit of give, and a warmth that quickly spread to her own body.
She squirmed, realizing just how close she was to certain parts of his anatomy.
He let go of the reins with his left hand and lowered it to her leg, holding her in place.
“Please don’t do that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She twisted a bit to face him. “Does it make it harder to ride?”
“Yes.” He was resolutely not looking at her, and his jaw was clenched.
Was he angry at her? Of course he would be. Her heart began to thud
Then, just as she was about to beg his forgiveness, he said unexpectedly, “I apologize for how I behaved back there. I overreacted.”
She exhaled. Maybe he wasn’t angry at her. She said, “And I’m sorry that I didn’t fully comprehend how much my absence would concern you.”
“I don’t like misplacing people,” he muttered.
“I’m here,” she assured him. “I won’t leave Linneliath again without leaving word. I’m not used to anyone noticing where I’ve gone.”
“How is that possible?”
She gave a little shrug. “Father was busy with his own pursuits. My stepmother spends most of her time attending to Averill. And Mairi doesn’t have the patience for the sort of things I like to do…tasks around the house or going to the market or—”
“What does Mairi do?”
It would be impolite to say that Mairi was plotting to overturn the bedrock of Scotland’s social structure…although it would be accurate. “She’s active in a particular ladies’ society in town. She attends meetings and reads a lot of books and meets her companions for tea and such.”
“You mean the League for the Advancement of Scottish Women? I’m aware of it,” he said dryly.
“Oh, yes. You were part of that mysterious event with Miss Ross this spring.”
“A small part. You didn’t wish to join the League with your sister?”
“If I did, who would mind the house?”
“A housekeeper, perhaps?”
“Well, that’s not the same at all.”
Just then, the far school came into view. Elspeth noticed Struan looking at it, and asked if he ever visited.
“It’s not part of Linneliath,” he said. “I’ve no authority there. My father did donate some initial funds to build it,” he added.
She guessed the donation covered more than “some” of the cost. She said, “I thought I might visit. The school is almost a sort of neighbor, if you think about it that way.”
“You can if you like. I’m sure the children would be happy to see you.”
“Would you join me?”
He looked away. “I don’t think it would help.”
“But you like children.”
“Aye.”
“And they’re children.”
“Aye, I’m aware of that.”
“I suspect they’re curious about you,” she said.
“I doubt they know I exist.”
Elspeth didn’t bother to hide her skepticism.
“You think that local children, who are naturally curious about everything, wouldn’t be curious about the most important gentleman in the whole region, who happens to be a military hero and also happens to employ half the countryside, and who lives in a mansion that’s far larger than anything else they’ve seen in their lives? ”
Struan gave a faint smile. “Fine. They’re probably curious.”
“So come with me.”
“You go first. I’ll join you on a later visit.”
It was not quite a promise, but Ellie liked that he was willing to talk about it. He seemed much calmer now.
A breeze ruffled her hair, and she inhaled deeply. “I can almost smell the sea.”
“When the wind is from the east, you can catch the salt sometimes. From that rise,” he said, pointing to his right, “you can get a glimpse of the water.”
“Oh, really? I thought we were too far inland.”
“The coastline is deceptive.” He paused. “Do you want to ride over there to see?”
“Yes!”
So he rode off in the new direction and she clung to him. At the top of the hill, Elspeth stared at the world before them.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous. So wild and open. Why was the house not built here?”
“Because it’s bloody cold, that’s why. This ridge protects all the others further inland. There used to be a lookout tower here. But it fell to ruins even before my grandfather’s time.”
“Oh, how wonderfully romantic. A ruined tower and the open sky. I hope someone wrote a poem about it.”
“If they did, I’ve never read it. And I’m no poet.” He was looking at her now, and there was something in his eyes that made her breathing quicken.
“Alas, I’m not either. I could clean the tower if it were still here, though.”
“It would be the tidiest ruin in Scotland,” he agreed, obviously thinking of something else. He put his fingers to her chin, stilling her movement. “Can I kiss you, Ellie?”
“Yes, please,” she breathed. Suddenly, her heart was racing.
“You can say no.”
“I’m saying yes.”
Yet he hesitated, and so she stretched to kiss him.
She wasn’t skilled, but he seemed not to mind.
He cupped her face in his hands and let the kiss spin on, and then gently sucked on her lower lip.
She felt so good she let out a little delighted moan.
She put her hands flat against his chest, aware that he wore only a few layers of clothing.
She wore only two, and even with the heat building in her body, her skin prickled from the cold breeze as much as the excitement. Even her breasts were pebbling in the chill, pressing into the bodice of her gown.
Still, she didn’t want to stop. She took a breath and leaned into him. Only when the wind nearly took her cloak from her shoulders did she pull away.
“The wind is strong up here,” she noted, not pleased about it. “When will it warm up to be summer?”
“Mmmm, possibly tomorrow. Or never. This part of the world is not known for its summers.”
“I see.”
“Do you wish to go back to Edinburgh?”
“Not at all. But I may wish for a thicker cloak.”
“We’ll inform the seamstress of your wish.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to add to—”
“Ellie. Hush.” He kissed her again, silencing her worry about overspending.
She liked it when he kissed her, and she also completely forgot about the wind, because his hands were threading through her hair, and his mouth was so warm.
She inhaled at the slow slide of his lip along hers, hot and slick and nerve-tingling.
There was something almost sinful in the way that he slid his tongue between her lips.
“Let me in,” he breathed as she opened her mouth wider.
Why should those words hit so low in her belly? Why should she want to hear them again, and again?
Another gust of wind hit her side, and she shivered.
“Damn it,” he growled, also feeling the cold. “This is not the ideal location, is it?”
“It’s private,” she offered. “And has a lovely view.”
He laughed, surprising her. “Always looking for the best in things, aren’t you, Ellie?”
“It’s not difficult.”
Struan shook his head. “Maybe not for you. We should go back to the house. I won’t be responsible for you catching a chill.”
“I’m hardy, I promise.”
“I believe you.” But he was already wheeling the horse around to return to the path. As soon as they descended below the hilltop, the wind lessened, and she sighed in relief.
Struan wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his chest. “Better?”
“Much. I hope it’s not a bother to carry me.”
“Are you asking me or the horse?” It was often difficult to tell when Struan was joking, but she saw a little glint in his eye, and smiled.
“Either. Both.”
“We don’t mind. Anyway, it’s not far. Just down the slope there. You can see the smoke from the chimneys.”
Elspeth sighed. “That’s good. I know it’s only been a few hours, but I can’t wait to be home again.”
“You mean Linneliath.”
“Yes. Home.”
He didn’t reply, but she felt his arm tighten around her shoulders, holding her closer.
Maybe that’s what made her bold enough to say, “When we get back, later tonight, I mean, maybe we could…resume the kissing?”
He seemed to grow brittle, wary. “Maybe.”
“I liked it. That’s all I meant.”
“Good. I want you to be…comfortable.”
“I am. So we can…continue. If you like. Soon.”
He nodded. “Soon.”
* * * *
Once they were back at the house, Struan wasted no more time about Elspeth’s wardrobe. He went to the maids who were in charge of his wife’s room and all her things.
“Tell me something about my wife’s wardrobe. Does she own only purple?”
“There’s a black dress in case of mourning, sir,” Agnes said.
“So truly all the rest are that same shade? That’s astonishing. She must love it.”
“I don’t think so, sir. She mentioned that she wished to be done with them, but that she never could stand to discard good fabric. She takes good care of all five.”
“All five what?”
“All five purple dresses, sir. I gather she’d sewed them herself out of the same bolt of fabric that she’d been given.”
“Wait. She owns five purple dresses, and one black one she never wears. I thought she owned twenty gowns and they all just look the same.”
“No, sir. She only came with the two trunks, sir. Didn’t take long to get her settled.”
Struan felt like an idiot. He’d heard the maids talking before, and he knew how much luggage Ellie had on the ship. So why did he assume that she magically had some infinite wardrobe?
Of course she didn’t.
But now that she was married to him, he could at least use the only magic he had access to—money—and get her one.
At dinner, he said, “We’re going to get you a proper wardrobe.”
“Oh, what I have is sufficient,” she said quickly.
“It’s not. That incident in the village occurred because you appeared to be a member of the servant class.”
“It occurred because that oaf would not leave me alone even after I asked him to,” she corrected him.
“A mistake I hope he’s learned from,” Struan muttered.
“You certainly imparted a lesson,” she said. “Whether he was a good student is another matter.”
“Nevertheless, I don’t want anyone to be able to use such an excuse again. You’re my wife, you’re the lady of Linneliath, and you ought to look the part. Where’s your yellow dress, the one your wore at the wedding?”
“That was Averill’s.”
“Well, you’re going to need more gowns of your own.”
“I’ll write to Mairi and ask her to send a few of her dresses.
She has several that she no longer wears.
Averill won’t give up anything. Really, it was rather astounding she offered the use of the yellow dress.
I should have begged clothing from Mairi earlier, but I suppose I was distracted by the speed of the wedding. ”
Struan paused a moment, feeling that she was blaming him for the situation. Not that he could tell her that her father practically pushed her out the door.
Seeing his expression, she added, “I didn’t mean—”
“Never mind what you meant. You will not have your sister send you her castoffs. You will acquire new items, made for you. Items of the proper quality. First, if you’ll entertain here, you need actual evening wear, ideally clothing you actually like for every day.”
“I like what I have.”
“No you don’t. I asked your maid.”
“Oh.” She fell silent.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I knew my gowns weren’t de rigeur, but I thought because you didn’t seem to put much stock in…social gatherings, you might not care what I wore to dinner when it was just us.”
“I want you to like what you wear, Ellie.”
“My pin money will cover the cost of a few gowns,” she said.
“You’re not using your damned pin money for this. I’m making you get a wardrobe, so I’m paying for it.”
“I don’t want to be a burden. I hope to run the house well enough that I won’t fall onto the side of your costs.”
Christ, did she know that the marriage settled her father’s debt? Was that why she was so obsessed with the household funds? Struan thought he’d made it clear to her father that the arrangement would never be discussed. And her father seemed eager to agree.
But Ellie was already discussing the sort of gowns she’d need, and he understood that she was still blissfully ignorant of the truth behind her so-called courtship. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he remembered something he’d retrieved from his room before dinner. He pulled a velvet pouch from his pocket and slid it across the table. “This is for you.”
“What is it?” Ellie asked, not reaching for it.
“You don’t believe I can provide for you.”
“Oh, Struan, of course I do.”
He waved off her protest. “I’ve decided to prove it in a more material way.”
“How so?”
He opened the pouch and pulled out a necklace: a thin gold chain that seemed almost too delicate to support a single large amber cabochon.
“Oh,” Ellie whispered.
“The amber piece was found by my great-grandfather on the shore near Linneliath. He had the necklace made for his wife, and it’s been passed down since. If you ever doubt that you’ll be taken care of, you need only touch this.”
“It’s magnificent. I think it’s too extravagant to wear on ordinary days, though.”
“Wear it, Ellie. It suits you. Your hair is gold. So is your smile.” He hadn’t expected to wax so poetic. But being around her tended to make him do a lot things he never thought himself capable of.
She fastened the chain around her neck. “How does it look?”
“Like it was meant to be yours. I want you to wear either that, or your pearls, or some jewelry every day. No more denying yourself.”
“I’ll try to take your advice. Perhaps you should also?”
“Also what?”
“Also stop denying yourself.” She blushed as she said it, making it clear what she was referring to.
He didn’t enjoy denying himself at all. But he couldn’t exactly demand to come to her room immediately after gifting her the amber necklace. It felt too much like…buying her.
Which he had.
Once again cursing himself, Struan said, “Soon.”
Ellie, to her credit, did not instantly reply with the natural question: how soon. She just nodded and said, “As you wish.”
He wished a lot of things, but the main one—not looking like he’d been burned over half his body—wasn’t going to come true.