Chapter Two
“Y ou assume correctly, Laird Lindsay.” Her voice was soft, but full of strength. This was a woman who had seen the harder parts of life. But somehow she’d made a good life for herself and based on what he saw, a wealthy one, also.
Almost as if she’d read his mind, she said, “Things are not always as they seem, Laird.” She took a seat, and he sat as well. “I have sent for tea, but please continue to enjoy your whisky.”
There was no doubt in his mind that she rattled him. He’d spent the past two weeks visiting various clubs with Lord Devon, gathering information about this infamous one. Although there was speculation, not much was known about Mrs. Dove-Lyon, but there was plenty information to be had about The Lyon’s Den. Everything from drinking blood as a dare to men being snared into marriage by passing or failing a test. He hoped his plea to find a wealthy wife would not involve any blood drinking.
The door opened and a male servant brought in a tea tray. As he’d learned to expect, it contained an excellent array of small sandwiches, biscuits, and tarts. His hostess fixed her tea and looked expectantly at him.
“No thank ye, I will enjoy my whisky.”
She nodded and took a sip of tea. “I understand from your letter to me, and from the recommendation I received from Lord Devon, that you are in dire straits.”
“Aye. Our clan’s entire sheep herd was wiped out by a disease. Our clans folk depend on the wool from the sheep to make clothing items to sell all over Europe. We have an excellent reputation, and our items bring in good money. Without sheep, my clan will starve.”
“And if you replace your animals, how do you know it will not happen again?”
A very smart woman, which was likely why she owned the most lucrative gambling den in London.
“Before the last few of our herd died, we brought in a specialist from Edinburgh who determined the cause of the illness. I willna go into boring details with ye, but we are now well prepared for a recurrence of that, and even other illnesses.”
She nodded and took another sip of tea. She placed the cup in the saucer, rested her very delicate, very white hands in her lap. “I have a woman who is in serious need of a husband. Fast. A lady who will need to be removed not only from London, but Britian.”
He took a sip of his whisky and nodded.
“Are you prepared to marry quickly and leave London immediately?”
“Aye.”
“Are you also prepared to keep your wife safe?”
“Aye.”
He did wonder what he was getting himself into, but at this point, he had no choice. He just hoped the woman was not wanted by the law.
Again, she guessed his thoughts. “She is not in trouble with the authorities.”
He shifted, growing uncomfortable with this veiled woman who seemed to read minds.
“Very well. I have arranged for the two of you to meet right here tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. If you both agree, a special license has already been procured and you may marry then, and I expect you to be prepared at that time to leave London.”
Kerrigan cleared his throat. “Will it be necessary for me to perform a task of sorts?”
Although he could not see if she smiled or not at his question, her voice held the sound of humor. “No, Laird Lindsay. You will not be required to drink blood.”
“Will I get to meet the lass before tomorrow morning?”
“No.” She was also a woman of few words. She stood, as did he. “My man will see you out and I will expect you at ten.” She turned and swept from the room like a queen, leaving him rattled once more. Before he had too much time to dwell on it, the same man who’d brought him up entered the room and waved him out.
Once he left the building, he headed to Brooks’s where he intended to meet Devon and have himself another—very large—whisky.
Christine had been wringing her hands and pacing up and down in her room at the inn since before dawn. If all went well, she would be a married woman in a very short time and on her way to Scotland—of all places.
Was she making a huge mistake? She had enough information about Mrs. Dove-Lyon to feel as though she would not marry her off to someone horrible. At this point she wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of this unknown husband or her uncle who she knew without a doubt was right now combing London searching for her.
It had cost her a bit of money for Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s fee, but it was money well spent if she was able to keep the rest of her fortune. Of course, she had learned at her last meeting with the club owner that the man she was to marry—Laird Kerrigan Lindsay—desperately needed money to support his clan. She already admired this man who put the needs of his people ahead of himself. She knew many Scots were leaving Scotland after the Clearances and moving to the Americas. This man, hopefully, had compassion and loyalty that prevented him from abandoning his clan.
She checked her watch once more and took a deep breath. It was time to leave if she were to be on time. She’d asked the innkeeper to have a hackney waiting for her so she could slip out the door and into the vehicle without being seen.
The ride could have been longer to settle her nerves, but it seemed that within minutes she was climbing out of the hackney and staring at the blue building. She took a deep breath and walked up to the door, taking a quick look at the jewelry store in the front. Before she even reached the door, it opened and a different man than the one who had allowed her entrance the week before when she came for the first time waved her in.
Once the door closed, she felt safe for the first time in weeks. No one her uncle would hire could grab her in here, and if all went well with the meeting between her and Laird Kerrigan Lindsay, she would leave a married woman and completely out of her uncle’s grasp.
They again climbed the stairs and walked down the corridor to the beautiful oak door. Her stomach muscles clenched, and she blinked to keep the tears that had quickly flooded her eyes from falling. Her escort opened the door and held it for her to pass him into the room.
She really had no idea what to expect, but it mattered not, because she would never have conjured up this handsome, very large man with deep green eyes, golden red hair to his shoulders, and a tentative smile on his face. He walked up to her and gave a quick bow. “Ye are Lady Christine Spencer?” he asked, his rolling burr evident even in these few words, spoken in a deep, velvety voice.
It was embarrassing when she realized she stood there like a fool, staring at him with her mouth open. She shook her head, causing him to frown since he must have thought she was saying no.
“Yes. Yes. I am Lady Christine,” she quickly said. “And you must be Laird Kerrigan Lindsay.”
It was then that she noticed Mrs. Dove-Lyon in the room, seated on the chair she’d served her tea in only a few days before when they talked about Laird Lindsay and what he had to offer in the way of a husband. Then, the best part of this man’s appeal was that he was willing to marry immediately and then move them to Scotland.
Now, the fact that he looked like a Scottish Warrior from years past and was handsome enough to turn a lady’s eye, she viewed as an unexpected plus. His huge build would be able to protect her from her uncle who was short, round, and clumsy.
Christine nodded at her hostess. “Good morning, Mrs. Dove-Lyon.”
She stood and dipped her head. “I will leave the two of you to yourselves so you can get to know each other and decide if you want to go ahead with this marriage. If so, I have notified the vicar to present himself this morning as soon as I have your approval. With Lady Christine’s situation, I want her to leave here a married woman, with no question as to the validity of the marriage.”
Once the door closed, Kerrigan waved to one of the chairs. “Won’t ye take a seat, my lady?
The tiny little lass offered him a slight smile and nodded. She took a comfortable looking chair, leaving him either the settee, which would put him a distance from her, or the chair across from her that looked as though it would collapse when he sat in it. He had no choice since he wasn’t about to stand above her and converse that way.
Holding his breath, he sat on the chair and studied his intended wife, who fussed with her hair and dress. She was a bonny lass. At first he thought she was a mere child, but once he noticed the enticing curves underneath her dress and the maturity of her face, he’d pushed that thought aside.
He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon told me ye are in need of a place to escape.” Well, that was certainly a stupid way to start the conversation, which apparently his future wife thought as well, since she stared wide-eyed at him.
“I apologize, lass. That was no’ what I intended to say. Mayhap to redeem myself, you can tell me what ye are seeking in a marriage.”
She thought for a moment, then said, “Although that was a surprising way for you to say that, it is true. I have money that my father left me. His brother was not happy that I got it all, and he wants me to marry a friend of his so they can split my fortune.”
“And ye donna like the mon he chose?”
She shook her head. “No. Not at all. He is boorish and makes my skin crawl when he looks at me. Even if he didn’t affect me that way, I would still not want to marry any man my uncle chose since it would end with me depending on a man I do not know for every coin I wanted to spend.” She took a deep breath. “And I have reason to believe this man my uncle has already chosen is heavy into gambling, so I can see myself a pauper in a few years.”
Kerrigan felt his temper rising, imagining a young lass with a great deal of money losing it and most likely living a life of misery because of the greediness of her uncle. He shook his head. “That is truly a horrible situation.” He studied her for a minute, thinking of how his cousin told him he might end up with an ugly bride. Lady Christine was beyond beautiful. Crystal clear blue eyes stared at him, surrounded by dark, long eyelashes. Her blond hair fought the hairpins that were attempting to keep the locks from falling around her beautiful face. He would have no problem bedding this wife, for certain.
“I understand you’ve had a tragedy at your estate in Scotland?” she asked.
Kerrigan shared the story of his clan’s sheep, noticing the way her eyes filled with compassion. He told her, “My people need sheep to survive. I will nay let them down.”
She nodded.
They both sat silently for a couple of minutes. Finally, Kerrigan stood and stepped to where she sat. He got down on one knee and took her tiny, cold hand in his. “Lady Christine Spencer, will ye do me the honor of becoming my wife? I understand we donna ken each other, but I think we would do well together. I promise to take care of ye, protect ye, and do all I can to make ye happy. And I doona chase the lasses, gamble, and drink verra little.”
Lady Christine studied him for a few moments, and then her bright smile brought sunshine to the room and sent all his blood racing to his groin. Aye, there would be no trouble making this one his wife.
“Laird Kerrigan Lindsay, I accept your proposal. I also think we will get on well.”
He grinned and stood, raising her up. Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he cupped her face in his hands and lowered his mouth, giving her a chance to pull back.
She did not.
He brought his lips to her pink plump ones and the taste of their sweetness turned his thoughts to how soon they could summon the vicar.