Chapter 55
55
For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands.
Christina Rossetti
“There’s never been a more beautiful bride,” Juliet said, passing Loveday her bouquet once Minette finished her coiffure. “Your groom has sent word all is ready at Lamb Hill for your arrival.”
Loveday took a last look at her reflection. “Do you regret having so hasty a shipboard wedding?”
“Not a bit,” Juliet said with a smile. “Yours is all the fuss and bother I need.”
Their easy, mingled laughter was something Juliet would miss. But no melancholy thoughts should mar this memorable day. Even the weather was glorious.
Nurse appeared at the door, ushering in the twins wearing frocks and new shoes, their hair shining with a just-washed luster.
“Mam!” they chorused, running to her and hanging on her petticoats. They regarded Loveday with admiring eyes but seemed to know better than to ruffle her wedding finery. She gathered them close despite it, even taking two blossoms from her bouquet to give them. They took them proudly, and then Cole uttered the one word that sent Juliet’s heart reeling again.
“Da?” He looked about as if expecting Leith to be hiding in a corner.
“Da is on his way.” Juliet went to a window that overlooked the long drive and, seeing no one, turned away.
“D’you have a biscuit?” Bella asked coyly, examining Loveday’s bouquet.
“Nary a biscuit, but we shall soon have wedding cake.”
“Come along.” Juliet ushered them out of the room and downstairs to the waiting coach. “Time to go see the lambs at Uncle Niall’s.”
The few miles to Lamb Hill was awash with bluebells. Loveday sang a song with the twins while Juliet pondered all that had come to pass. Though she had no remorse about her own hasty nuptials, she did sometimes wish for a more romantic beginning. But what did it matter if there was to be a romantic end?
“Wee lambie, lambie, lambie,” Bella sang.
Lambing season was in evidence on both sides of the coach as shepherds and sheep roamed beyond the borders of Lamb Hill. The newer mansion seemed miniature compared to Ardraigh Hall, more a fairy-tale castle with its turrets and dry moat filled with wildflowers. Both children were bouncing excitedly on the primrose silk seats since Uncle Niall was a favorite. The Paisley coach had already arrived, but Lyrica and Euan seemed to have gone inside.
Niall was waiting on the steps, having dispensed with the usual footman. “What? You didn’t ride your ponies. Flora and Charlie, is it?”
“Aye,” Cole replied with the gravity of a three-year-old. “They’re napping.”
“Nae, they’re eating oats!” Bella said, running up the steps past him.
Loveday smiled at her groom as she emerged from the coach. Leaving them alone for so private a moment, Juliet followed the twins into the house, where Father and Zipporah were waiting, dressed in their best just inside the open doorway.
“I spy another Buchanan.” Father pointed over Juliet’s head toward the driveway.
Relief flooded her as she turned around and looked through the open door. Leith was coming down the driveway at a canter, raising both the dust and her admiration. No finer horseman in green frock coat, leather breeches, and spurred boots existed, at least in her eyes.
Back out the door she went just as Loveday and Niall came in, leaving her alone with Leith in the forecourt as the coach rolled away. He dismounted, handed Eclipse to a stable hand, and reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips. Her heart turned over. He met her eyes and held her gaze for another heart-halting moment.
“Am I late?”
“You’re more gallant than tardy,” she said, smoothing his collar.
“A few matters needed finishing in Glasgow. Euan has agreed to manage Buchanan affairs while we’re away on a proper honeymoon.”
“Away ... as in Bath?” At his nod, she felt childishly emotional, like she might burst into tears as Bella and Cole sometimes did.
“You might enjoy Bath more if you were in the company of your family.”
Was that what he thought? Did the taint of her onetime refusal of him still trouble him? “Leith, all that I require is you.”
Still, a shadow seemed to cross his face. “Can you be away from the children for a time?”
“’Tis best. A long journey would tire them so.”
“And not only them,” he said with a chuckle as a sudden commotion behind them ended their intimacy.
Bella and Cole hopped down the steps and cavorted about them like leaping lambs. “Da! Da!”
With a last look at Juliet, he took them both by the hand and started up the stairs. “Let us waste nae time and see your uncle wed, aye?”
The parlor’s cool interior was hushed, but the moment’s pleasure and anticipation were palpable. Only a few family and friends had gathered, the parish clergy present too. A Scottish wedding required sprigs of white heather, worn by the groom and tucked into the bride’s bouquet. If Juliet had any reservations about Loveday’s feelings for Niall, they were put to rest simply by the adoring way she looked at him.
Did she herself regard Leith that way?
She stole a look at him as he stood by the groom, only to find his eyes on her. Heat bloomed in her neck and face, and she felt as much a bride as Loveday, so much so she forgot to listen to the hallowed vows or watch the fidgeting twins or pay attention to the time.
Suddenly the stirring ceremony ended. The joyful couple turned round as man and wife and led the way into the dining room for the wedding feast.
On the next clement day, Juliet and Leith slipped away to ride through Lanarkshire to the ruins of Kairthmere Castle. Juliet had chosen a young mare from Ardraigh Hall’s stables named America while Leith rode his favorite, Eclipse. Summer seemed to reign instead of spring, the sun gilding the rolling hills with a special sheen.
Atop a rise sat the old pile with its commanding views, retaining its medieval essence. Entirely alone, they dismounted and turned the horses loose to graze on wildflower-colored grasses.
“I grew up playing here as a lad, pretending I was a knight in armor.” Leith led her past gnarled trees toward a tower house. “Some of these yews have been here for hundreds of years.”
“Does Kairthmere have a colorful past?”
“Treason, torture, and trysts, aye.” He took her gloved hand to help her over the uneven ground. “But such is Scotland’s turbulent history.”
She lifted her gaze from the ground to the blue sky. Walls of arched windows were still standing, as well as a worn turnpike stair that spiraled left.
Leith let go of her and began to walk up the narrow steps backward, wielding an imaginary sword. “These stairs are made for a car-handit, or left-handed, swordsman to fight his way up and down against mostly right-handed foes.”
“Foes who would be at a decided disadvantage,” she said, imagining it with a slight shudder.
He climbed higher till one wall gave way and he could have stepped into open air.
“I feel a bit like a damsel in distress watching you.” She held her breath till he came down again and stood on solid ground, the rush of the wind rustling the ancient trees around them.
“I suppose you’d like for me to live to see Bath,” he jested.
“I overheard you and Niall talking wills, which seems to have shadowed me.”
“Nae worries. When you wed, a will becomes null and void and a new one is made, hence the morose conversation.”
She smiled up at him, wishing he’d take her hand again. “I’d prefer to talk weddings ... honeymoons.”
“Niall and Loveday seem content to go nae further than Lamb Hill.”
“You can’t blame them for wanting to spend their first days and nights of married life at home instead of aboard ship. Loveday is a poor sailor and often sick.”
“I don’t blame them. I’m just impatient.”
“You’re fond of Bath, then?”
“Nae.” He took her in his arms slowly as if they were about to dance. “My impatience has nothing to do with Bath.”
She leaned into him, woozy again. Being alone atop the hill, with no servants or family near, led to a dizzying intimacy they’d never known. Would he kiss her a second time? She wanted nothing more than to be close to him. When he held her, she felt whole. Wholly his.
“You ken how I feel about you, Juliet?”
His tender tone turned her heart over. “We’ve never spoken of our feelings.”
“Mayhap we should, though mine are plain enough.”
“You care for me enough to have risked coming to Virginia—and my refusal.”
“All a bit hazy in hindsight. It began with your miniature and Ravenal’s letters. At first, I was in love with the idea of you.” His lips brushed her hair. “I actually penned you a love letter of sorts before I sailed to Virginia, then burned it. Once I met you, you had me heart and soul.”
Heart and soul. It seemed she’d waited all her life to hear those very words. “You’re a true romantic underneath it all.”
“I’m wholeheartedly yours. You’re my first thought at break of day and my last thought at night, and all the times between. I carry your miniature everywhere.”
“And it thrills me to hear it. I love you, Leith. I’ve loved you longer than you think.”
He grew still as if trying to take it in. “But when you look at me, you surely see all the things you stand against. Trade and tobacco and a brutal monopoly that ties you in knots.”
“I see a man who is trying to do better, who is willing to risk a great deal, including his heart.”
“You think me better than I am.”
“We are all of us fallen. By God’s grace we rise and are made new—together.”
“So you have cast your lot with a man who adores you but has a long road ahead.”
“All we have is this moment. And before we leave this place, I want to mark it by removing all doubt from your mind about my devotion.” She stood on tiptoe and slipped her arms around his neck, their foreheads touching. “You were the first man who kissed me, and you will surely be the last.”
Her steadfast words seemed to unlock something inside him. Yet another thawing, she sensed, a step closer to whatever united them and a step away from whatever had bound him before. His hands spanned her waist and he drew her even closer, his faint beard chafing her skin as his mouth met hers. She tasted need and relief and unmet longing in his kiss. Her own breathless desire swirled amid it all, filling her to the brim with a delight she’d never known.
When a circling hawk shrilled a cry, they came to their senses but only for a trice. They looked down and laughed, as they had trampled her hat. Uncaring, she threaded her hands into his hair, wanting more of him, her rising heartbeat like a rush of wings. Twining the black, silken strands between her fingers, she stole his queue ribbon as a reminder of this heaven-sent day, mischievousness rivaling her pleasure.