Chapter 17 #2
But he didn’t finish because she’d hurled herself in his arms and started pressing kisses over his mouth and jaw.
He knew she’d be pleased, but he hadn’t expected this effusion of sentiment.
She must have missed her finery more than he’d realized.
He’d never understand women’s fascination with fashion.
Not that he minded right now, when he was reaping the benefits.
“Oh, you are the most wonderful man!” She beamed. “How shall I ever thank you?”
His mouth crooked. “I can think of a few ways.”
She pursed her mouth playfully, her eyes bright with mischief.
“I’m sure you can. But that will have to wait.
At least until I’ve unpacked.” She opened the nearest trunk and started pulling out gown after gown and different parts of gowns—sleeves, foreparts, skirts, and ruffs—as fast as she could, making little sighing sounds of pleasure whenever she came across one that she particularly liked.
She was like a bairn in a room fool of sweets.
There were silks, velvets, wools, brocades, and satins in every color embroidered with jewels, metallic threads, and lace.
He’d never seen such a wardrobe; it was fit for a queen.
Lachlan was pleased that he’d made her so happy, but he couldn’t resist the twinge of unease when faced with such obvious signs of wealth.
It had been some time since she’d worn that elaborate bridal gown to dinner; attired in Mary’s castoffs, it was easy to forget the world from which she came.
Where would she wear all of this? For the yearly journey to Edinburgh when he was forced to present himself before the king?
Watching the pile on her bed grow higher made his next surprise seem woefully inadequate.
He walked toward the fireplace and picked up the small box he’d placed on the chair earlier. “I’ll leave you to your unpacking, then, but before I go, I have one more thing for you.”
She placed the stack of fine linen sarks she’d removed from the trunk on the bed and turned to him. “What more could you possibly give me? You’ve already given me so much.”
“ ’Tis but a small token. A gift to mark the occasion of our marriage.”
Her face fell. “But I have nothing for you.”
“I have all I want.” He held out the box. “Please, take it.”
Eyeing him hesitantly, she took the box and then sat on the chair to open it.
He held still as he waited for her to untie the string and lift off the top.
She was looking down, so he couldn’t see her face, but he heard her gasp.
Carefully, she slid one of the slippers from the box and held it up to the light.
The tiny pearls and diamonds that lined the heel of the delicate silk shoe caught the flame of the fire and sparkled.
“Lachlan …” Her voice was full of wonder.
She turned to him with wide blue eyes. “But how?”
He tried to hide his pleasure that his gift had pleased her. “I know it’s a tradition for the father to present shoes to the groom, but I thought since … I thought you could wear them on our wedding. I had them made in ivory since I didn’t know what color gown you would wear.”
She slipped her delicate arched foot into the shoe and straightened her leg to admire it. It must be innate, he thought. His sisters did exactly the same thing whenever they had new shoes.
“They fit perfectly,” she marveled. “How did you do it?”
“I was able to salvage one of the slippers you lost in the sea; it washed up on shore the next day.”
“But you must have ordered these some time ago. How could you possibly have known?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t. I hoped that I would eventually succeed in convincing you. Since it was a shoe that brought you to me, I thought it a fitting way to mark the occasion.”
Her smile reached all the way to her eyes. “Why, Lachlan Maclean, behind that hard-as-steel warrior’s exterior, you are a romantic.”
He frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous.” But his disgruntled response only seemed to amuse her further. “If you’d rather have jewelry—”
“Absolutely not!” She tucked her feet under her protectively, as if daring him to try to take them away. “They’re the most beautiful shoes I’ve ever seen.”
He grinned at her fearsome expression.
“But …” She paused, and her gaze turned questioning. “They must have cost a fortune.”
They had. Money he didn’t have. But how could he marry her without giving her something worthy of her?
And it was important that he buy her something without her tocher.
He took her hand and dropped a kiss atop her knuckles, staring into her eyes.
“They are a gift. I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”
Flora’s heart swelled in her chest, touched by the sentiment and thoughtfulness of Lachlan’s gift.
She never would have imagined the harsh, forbidding man who’d abducted her would turn out to be so thoughtful.
Not that she’d try telling him so. Just thinking about the way his mouth had curled with distaste at the mention of him being romantic made her chuckle.
No, this was something she would keep to herself. This side of him was all for her.
She draped her arms around his neck, stood up on her toes, and kissed him softly on his mouth.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I will cherish them always. I only wish that I had something for you. If there is anything you desire, anything you want, name it. If it is in my power, I shall give it to you.”
His arms had wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her a little closer. “Flora, I …”
There was something strange in his voice. She cocked her head. “What is it?”
His gaze bored into her intently, as if searching for something.
“You’ve seemed preoccupied the past couple of days,” she said. “Is something bothering you?”
“No.” He dropped his arms and shook his head, taking a step back. “The guests will be arriving soon, we won’t have much time to be alone again before the ceremony tomorrow.”
The guests would be few, she thought with a stab of disappointment.
Her cousin Argyll, her brother Rory, and only a few neighboring clan chieftains and their families.
There simply hadn’t been time to send for the rest of her brothers and sisters—or her cousins Jamie and Elizabeth Campbell, for that matter.
“I’m sorry, lass,” he said, reading her mind. “I know you wished more of your family could be here.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I know you are eager to have this finalized.” She frowned, realizing there was still one person unaccounted for. “Will your brother John arrive in time? I’m anxious to meet him.”
He went unnaturally still, a reaction that seemed to occur whenever the subject of his brother arose. It was strange that Lachlan never talked about John. Perhaps they’d had a falling-out, but given how close Lachlan was to Gilly and Mary, it seemed out of character.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “John’s been unavoidably detained.”
“You never said where he was.”
He paused, and she thought his jaw hardened. “Near Edinburgh.”
“Truly?” She smiled. “I wonder if I met him at court?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Clearly, the mention of his brother had upset him. He seemed remote, distant. Taking a step toward him, she said, “Lachlan, I—”
“I’ll leave you to your gowns,” he said roughly. “As soon as your brother and cousin arrive, I’ll send for you.”
And before she could move to comfort him, he’d gone. Flora knew something was wrong. What she didn’t know was why he wouldn’t share it with her.
When Flora answered Lachlan’s summons a few hours later, she felt like her old self.
She wore a French gown of dark blue velvet embroidered with tiny seed pearls across the stomacher and a matching pair of shoes.
Since her arrival at Drimnin Castle, she’d become accustomed to simply tying her hair back with a scrap of ribbon to hang loose down her back, but tonight she’d asked Morag to help arrange it in a complicated twist secured by a matching velvet-and-pearl cap.
Though nowhere as extravagant as the wedding gown she’d worn a couple of weeks ago, the dress was elegant and finely made, giving her courage a much needed boost. Something she would need to face her formidable cousin and brother. Taking a deep breath, she entered the laird’s solar.
Lachlan stood before the fire, facing her. The two other men rose as she entered. Surprisingly, the normally dour expression on her cousin’s face that had earned him his epithet, Archibald the Grim, was absent—he actually appeared to be smiling.
She turned to the other man and drew in her breath. Though it had been years since they’d last met, she recognized him at once. Rory.
She’d forgotten what impressive men her brothers were.
He stood at least half a foot over six feet tall—a couple of inches taller than Lachlan, who was himself an unusually tall man.
Like Lachlan, Rory was broad-shouldered and exceedingly well muscled.
His hair was dark golden brown, his eyes an unusually striking blue, and his perfectly chiseled features well tanned.
The combination was striking, and something was oddly familiar.
It took her a moment to realize why. His eyes were the exact same color as hers.
The obvious blood connection moved her more than she would have thought possible.
Realizing she was staring, she shifted her gaze back to Lachlan, who seemed amused by her study of her brother.
She grinned sheepishly and, remembering her duty, greeted one of the most powerful men in Scotland, the Earl of Argyll. “Cousin, I hope your journey was a pleasant one.”
“Uneventful, at least. We had to travel with uncomfortable speed to arrive in the time allotted by Coll’s messenger.” Seeing Flora’s contrite expression, he added, “Not that I mind.” He gave her a sharp look. “I’d begun to think you would never wed.”