Chapter 20
MORNING SUN POURED through her window, spangling the floor with golden light and purple shadows.
Eleanor sat up with a start and called for Hannah.
“I’m here,”
Hannah called back, rushing in from the adjoining room.
Upon their arrival Fenella and her family had taken rooms on the third floor and insisted that Eleanor and Hannah use Fenella’s former rooms.
Eleanor already knew how close she’d be to Keir, his rooms were next door.
Colin was installed in the former nursery and Mary stayed in the eldest sister, Elsie’s, long-vacant bedroom.
“Oh, Hannah.”
She held her arms out and Hannah jumped into the bed and squeezed her friend with all the strength she had.
“I was afraid I’d never see you again.
It gave me such a scare when you left before the ball.”
Hannah sat back on her heels.
“But Fenella assured me you’d be safe with Keir.
Then that awful Captain Luxbury took off in search of you.”
“And he found us, but Laird McKelvey sent his troops back to England and the captain came with Keir and me to look for my mother.”
Eleanor, breathless, went on to tell bits and pieces of the trip: separating from Luxbury, finding her mother, traveling back to Castle Caladh and being abducting by Bernard on the way.
She described her rescue, but told Hannah none of the precious moments she’d spent in Keir’s arms, or the kisses they shared, or how they almost married, but she did have one revelation to tell.
“Oh, Hannah, I know my real name.
I saw it on my baptismal paper.
My mother had it safely stored all these years.”
Hannah blinked repeatedly and focused on Eleanor’s face.
“And? Your name is …”
“Eleanor Mary Fletcher Hanover.”
Hannah’s lips formed an O.
“So it’s true.
You’re a Hanover.
You’re royalty.”
“There’s no proof anymore.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“I threw it in the fire and destroyed it.”
Hannah’s face fell.
“But why?”
“Because Lady Beth warned me to.
Without proof that I have royal blood, the insurrectionists cannot use me in their plan.
I’m free, Hannah.”
Her smile was lop-sided.
Hannah bit her lip and frowned.
“You don’t seem happy about it.”
“Well,”
there was a light knock at the door and then Elspeth, the maid, asked if she could enter, “yes, come in.”
Eleanor continued, “I would have liked to keep the baptismal certificate, but …”
she caught a glimpse of someone else at the door, a flash of tartan colors, before the door completely closed.
Elspeth curtsied, tray in hand, and announced, “I’ve brought ye our cook’s special welcoming breakfast.”
Both girls slid off the bed and settled themselves at the table before the fireplace.
Elspeth arranged the food on the table then tended the fire.
“Mm, bacon.”
Hannah picked up a piece and sniffed it before taking a bite.
“Be there anythin’ else ye need?”
she asked as she straightened the bed covers.
“No, thank you, but was that Keir in the hall?”
Eleanor asked.
“Yes, ma’am, yer husband ate in his room and said he’ll be expectin’ ye in the library this mornin’.”
She curtsied again and started for the door.
Once she was gone Hannah, whose fingers had dropped the bacon at the word husband, asked, “What did she mean? Are you married to that McKelvey? How could that possibly be?”
“Remember how I left the kirk … kind of sickly? I went to meet Keir.
Then we waited in the vicarage until your service ended and all of you, the Beldorney guests, left.
We went back to the kirk.
It was Keir’s plan to marry me so I couldn’t be forced to marry the King.”
“Oh, I understand. Clever.”
She lowered her voice to a hush.
“So … are you truly a married woman, El?”
Eleanor sighed.
“Not yet.
The vicar died before we could pledge our troth.”
She bowed her head.
“And now with proof of my lineage gone, he doesn’t need to marry me, but …”
she looked up, a tiny hint of a smile coming to the corners of her mouth, “he still wants to.”
***
“KEIR, TELL ME what happened!”
Rory grabbed him at the bottom of the stairs and, arm in arm, walked with him toward the main doors.
“Logan and Jack had conflictin’ stories, and neither could tell me aboot the woman and son stayin’ with us.”
Keir told her the short version as they went outside and started walking toward the stables.
“We lost track o’ that scoundrel captain before we came upon Eleanor’s mother.
A fine woman is she and sorely glad to see her daughter again.”
He looked over his shoulder and added, “The lad’s not hers, but we’re to say he is.
She took him in as a bairn when his parents died o’ the pox.
He’s a meek one, but he gets along wi’ me nephew, Huey.”
“But Logan says the captain stole Eleanor away from ye and then ye stole her back.”
Her freckled face bore a confused frown.
“Aye,”
Keir explained to Rory, “we sent him to the MacLeods to be dealt wi’ there.
Alpin and Will tied him to the nag he rode and promised to trot the whole way.
Lent us a lantern to find our way here, though Copper woulda done it on his own.
’Twas a frightful night.”
He opened the stable door.
“Ho, Copper, I’ve brought ye a treat.”
He pulled out a carrot and headed for the stall.
Rory stayed back and waved the flies away from her head.
“A last question, brother.”
She paused until he looked her way.
“Ye dinnae take yer bride to bed last night.
Was she … hurt … by the captain?”
Keir rubbed along Copper’s neck and chuckled.
“Nay, but I dare say the captain was woefully abused by me princess.
She struck him a good one in the baws.
And Alpin and Will bruised the rest of him.”
Rory nodded.
“Fer sure I like that lass e’en more.
But … me question, Keir … are ye nay sleepin’ together?”
“I confess to ye, Rory, that the priest meant to wed us, but gave up the ghost before we said the vows.”
Rory gasped.
“And ye went off with her? Alone? Unchaperoned?”
“Well, we had the captain fer most of the way, and then her mother.
No better chaperone than a lass’s mother, aye? We’ll have a proper weddin’, we will.
Soon, if she’ll have me.”
He gave Copper a final pat then caught the look on his sister’s face.
“Rory, ye’re goin’ all peely wally.
I swear I dinnae wrong the lass.”
“I was thinkin’ on me own weddin’, now jist three weeks off.”
Keir tried not to glance at her middle, but he’d not forgotten her words from the other day and that she was to wed quickly.
She hadn’t definitively confirmed her situation and he did not want to assume anything.
He closed the stable door, put an arm around her, and said, “Can we share the blessed day with ye? Two weddin’s will save our father one feast and glad he’ll be o’ that.”
***
FENELLA ASKED COLIN to come with her and Huey to the pond.
The lad was happy to be choreless and rather delighted to play with another boy even if there was an age difference.
Rory brought Mary to Eleanor’s room to offer her some of her older sister’s discarded clothing, rather nice things that were still in the wardrobe.
Since Hannah had brought her and Eleanor’s trunk of clothes to Caladh they had plenty of items to choose from.
Mary was overwhelmed with the selection and hesitant to borrow a dress, but the four of them had fun deciding what would fit, what needed mending, and what they could wear today.
Eleanor ignored the fact that her arm burned and her ribs throbbed in such a way she had to bite back a cry when Hannah helped her into a day dress.
“Shall we go down now?”
Rory seemed anxious.
“Me father is waitin’ to meet ye, Mary.
Doan let ’im rile ye.
He’s a bossy man, hard on the outside, but soft as fresh churned butter on the inside.”
Mary looked toward the dresser mirror propped on its short side.
They’d been admiring themselves once they’d changed clothes and now Mary checked her face with a bit more serious inspection.
“I’ve had a bit of experience wi’ widowed men … but not wi’ the laird of a castle.”
She shook her head and amended her statement.
“Well, I’ll nay blether on aboot it, but there was once a McHenry what had an eye on me.”
“Me father’s a good man and will treat ye as a guest.”
Rory smiled and stared openly at Mary.
“Can I ask ye a question?”
When Mary nodded she said, “Ye speak like a Scot, but ye’re English, aye?”
Eleanor spoke before her mother could.
“Folks here aren’t always friendly or forgiving of the English … of us Sassenachs.
Some folks, I mean.
Your family has been most welcoming.”
Rory brushed a strand of red hair behind one ear.
“Aye, ye’re one of us … or ye will be soon.
Now, shall we go down?”
They descended the steps in a chattering, laughing knot, then all four quieted as they entered the spacious room next to the library.
Rory called it “mum’s gallery.”
There were two divans and several carved walnut chairs, a low bench, and massive portraits set against dark paneled walls.
Velvet drapes framed two tall windows and the McKelvey crest hung between them.
“This was me mother’s favorite room.
When I was a wee lass, I’d stare at the coat of arms and me mother, nursin’ Jack in that chair, would tell me and me brothers an’ sisters all the meanin’s of the symbols and colors.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Mary walked closer and stared at the tapestry.
“I can guess the lion symbolizes courage.”
“Aye,”
Rory sounded proud, “as well as strength and valor.
Me brothers hold those traits, though we should add a monkey for Jack.”
She laughed and straightened a throw rug on the wicker seat of an arm chair.
“The colors are important, too.
The gold color is for generosity—makes me think of Keir—the blue is a sign of loyalty and black signifies grief.”
“What does the red hand mean?”
Eleanor sat on one of the divans and motioned for her mother to sit next to her.
Hannah took another chair.
Rory held her own hand up.
“Well, red represents warriors, but the hand is an emblem of faith.
I didn’t understand why they would go together until I was grown up.
And the helmet denotes wisdom, protection …”
Her voice trailed off and she looked at Eleanor.
“I hope ye ken that Keir—”
she stopped mid-sentence as her father strode into the room.
All stood up to greet him.
“Guid mornin’ to ye, lassies.”
He gave a somber nod to Eleanor and raised his eyebrows at Hannah and Mary.
Rory made introductions.
“Verra pleased to meet ye.
Ye have a fine daughter, Widow Macfarlane.”
“Just Mary, ’tis all I’ve ever been called.”
“Mary, then.
Will ye allow me to escort ye aboot the grounds? I saw Fenella take the boys out.
I’ll show ye a bit of the nature they’ll be enjoyin’.”
Mary hesitated and Laird McKelvey tipped his head toward Hannah and Eleanor.
“And ye lassies must come, too, o’ course.”
Rory kissed her father on the cheek and said, “I’ll show Hannah the castle while Eleanor meets with me favorite brother.
I’m sure he wonders why I havnae brought her to him yet.”
She gave him an affectionate touch on his arm.
“Be nice to Mary, father.
Doan show her the McKelvey temper if the neighbor’s sheep are grazin’ on our hills.”
“Och,”
he said in the same tone as his son, “ye may be thinkin’ o’ yerself.
When have ye ever heard me raise me voice?”
He laughed loudly over Rory’s response and held his arm out to Mary.
“M’lady, shall we?”
***
ELEANOR’S HEART SKIPPED a beat to see her newly found loved one set off with a man who looked so very much like her own Highland beau.
“Well, that went as planned.”
Rory chuckled.
“I kent me father would take to yer mum, Eleanor.
He always comes in here this time of day and stares at this portrait.”
She walked to the right side and lifted off a silk covering that hid a painting of her mother.
The artist had blended three shades of red to capture the woman’s hair, an exact match to Rory and Fenella’s tresses.
But her skin, creamy white, was a tinge lighter than Rory’s.
Eleanor and Hannah made solemn comments, reverently admiring the Laird’s deceased wife.
Rory quietly recovered the portrait and said, “Off wi’ ye, Eleanor.
The library is on the other side of this wall.
I’ve agreed to somethin’ special wi’ me brother.
I hope ye’ll like it.”
***
KEIR PACED AROUND the library.
He couldn’t hear the words spoken in the next room, but he could hear the voices, especially his father’s.
When it got quiet, he knew Rory would come … with Eleanor.
Would she be amenable to the new plan? A ceremony set on the hill behind the castle? And in three weeks’ time? Eleanor had agreed rather hesitantly to their first wedding plan at the kirk.
He stopped pacing to remember.
They’d met outside the kirk, the rain about to fall.
He’d led her to the vicarage before the clouds opened up.
She’d listened to him explain about entering into a false marriage to thwart the political plot he and she could no longer follow through on.
She agreed then, but the priest died and the parchment was destroyed.
Later, on the road to finding her mother, he’d asked her, in all seriousness, to marry him. She’d doubted his motive at first, but then accepted. Nevertheless, how would she feel now?
The large library door creaked open and his sister ushered Eleanor in.
“Here she stands, brother.
I havnae told her our sly scheme yet.
I’ll leave ye to it.”
She gave Eleanor a hug and closed the door behind herself.
Eleanor looked at him. “Scheme?”
She put a hand to her heart, thumb and two fingers caressing the brooch there.
She wore a simple dress, light blue that favored her eyes.
She stood slightly bent like a bean sprout.
He dissolved the space between them with a few quick strides.
“Are ye all right? Did ye sleep?”
He put a hand gently on her hurt shoulder.
“Are ye healin’?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but he pressed her close and they spoke in kisses instead.
“’Tis nae scheme in a bad sense,”
he finally said, his mouth but an inch from hers.
“Will ye marry me, El, here at Castle Caladh on the verra day me sister and her beau will wed? ’Twill be a grand day.
Twenty days hence.”
A long two seconds ticked by, but seemed like hours to Keir.
Then she spoke.
“I said I would marry you, Keir.
And so I will.
Here.
Twenty days hence.”
He let his breath out and smothered her again in kisses.
“Ah, there’s me bonnie lass.
I love ye, El, I love ye more than words can express.”
She started to speak, but voiced a squeal of pain instead.
“Have I hurt ye, lass?”
He dropped his hands and stepped back a foot.
“I’ll nay touch ye again.”
“I’ll be fine, Keir.
Nothing’s broken.
Just bruised and sore.”
“Ye’ll heal up strong and ready in twenty days’ time.
’Tis hard to keep me hands from ye, but I shan’t add to yer pain as I plan to be gone fer a spell.
Two weeks at most.”
“Gone?”
Her face fell.
“Aye.
There’s a bit o’ patter I must needs to have with Horace Sylvan.
Ye may remember the name.
I’ll be away to England to mend that fence and pass on a few unkind words about Luxbury, too.
He’ll lose his commission and nivver return to harm ye.
I’ll see to it.”
He reached to stroke her good arm.
“Ye look a might peely-wally, El.
I’ll carry ye back to yer room.”
***
ELEANOR SNUGGLED AGAINST Keir’s hard chest and ignored the throbbing in her injured arm as he carried her up the stone steps to her room.
She memorized the feel of him, his scent, the cut of his jaw, the firmness of his gentle grip on her, and the strength he showed as he took the hard steps two at a time.
She’d never been happier and yet there was that thread of sadness that he’d be gone for two weeks.
She wondered if he was doing so now to allow her time with her mother.
“Keir,”
she said as he lowered her onto the bed, “can you not wait a bit to make your journey? I could go with you to England once we’re married.”
“’Tis a lovely thought and we shall make that journey and many more once we’re wed.”
He sat on the edge of the bed beside her hip and stroked a hand down her cheek.
“Ah, Eleanor, remember when I thought ye was a lad and I bared my feelings fer the princess—for ye, that is—that ye stirred me soul?”
“I remember.”
A blush crept up her neck.
She moved herself a hair’s breadth closer to encourage him to say more.
He leaned down and rested his cheek on hers, lightly, softly, and then he lifted his head again.
“Ye stir me whole bein’ and I dare give ye only one kiss more or else I’ll nivver leave this room.”
The attraction was always there, but now she enjoyed the anticipation, short as it was.
There was no hesitation, rather a promise of things to come … weeks away perhaps, but that knowledge did not hurry this goodbye kiss.
His lips on hers, their breaths in unity.
Silence.
Her ears refused to hear a thing.
The castle fell silent, the birds outside were mute.
This was a moment to remember.
Another longer kiss with her arms wrapped around him, no pain felt.
Hungry mouths.
Wet and hot and searching.
Something new: a tongue.
Soft skin and hard muscles, two bodies tentative, but with growing insistence.
His hand trailed down her side to hip and thigh, caressing her.
His weight pressed upon her for a brief instant and then he broke away; she let go as he sat up.
Her mind was stunned, blank with dizzy longing.
The bed creaked and he was up, standing before her looking down.
“I will be back.
I promise.
And I aim to bring ye the perfect weddin’ gift.”
Eleanor rose up on her good elbow as he left.
She couldn’t have stood up if she wanted to, she knew her legs would not hold her, but she needed to watch him leave.
The broad shoulders, the sway of his kilt, that final backward glance.
Again he said, “I promise,”
and she wondered what gift he could possibly bring her.
She only wanted him to return to her.
Safe and sound.