The Highlander's Outlaw Bride (18 page)

“This was a good
célébration
,” Bray remarked, slouched deep in his chair.

Conn grunted. “Merely a prelude to the one next week when I bring home my bride.”

“A month ago I would not have said you would have been so eager to wed.”

“I wasnae,” Conn admitted ruefully. “I dinnae know her then. I know her scarcely better now, but I definitely like her spirit.”

Bray roared. “You like her form and the way she fits in your arms.
Mon ami
, you are smitten.”

Conn’s face heated, but he could not deny Bray’s words.

* * *

The night was dark and still. Too still. Conn lay in his bed, unsure what had roused him. A sudden, sharp pain tore through his abdomen and he rolled onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest against the agony. Scarcely able to breathe, he waited for the pain to pass. Slowly it eased, and he carefully straightened his body.

His stomach revolted and he jerked upright. Flinging the bedclothes aside, he lurched across the room for the chamber pot. He managed but two steps before he collapsed to his knees, vomiting onto the cold, hard floor. His head spun and his stomach heaved. He was cold and hot at the same time. Unable to summon the strength to rise, he slumped unconscious to the floor.

Voices rose and fell in the hall outside his door, but Conn couldn’t be bothered to care. Heavy pounding on his door jolted him to partial wakefulness, but he ignored it, resentful at being forced to move. The door burst open and Seumas and Gillis bolted into the room, sliding to a stop at his side.

“Get him up.” Seumas knelt and rolled Conn to his back, placing his hands beneath his shoulders. Together, he and Gillis lifted Conn and bore him to the bed. Conn groaned as the movements caused his world to shift dangerously. Seumas quickly brought the chamber pot to the bedside.

“Here ye go, lad.” He wiped Conn’s face with a damp cloth. Conn lay back on his pillows, exhausted, the room swimming about him.

“Ye have that out of yer system good and proper. Ye need yer rest now. Young Gillis and I will take turns watching over ye.”

“Has anyone else been affected?” Conn whispered hoarsely, glancing anxiously at the pair. Seumas shot Gillis a quelling look, then answered.

“Mayhap one or two, but dinnae
fash
yerself over it. They are being seen to.”

Conn tried to sit up, but only made it to his elbows. “Something we ate?”

Seumas pushed him back onto the bed. “Lay yerself back, there’s a good lad.”

Too weak to protest, Conn collapsed on the pillows, his breaths coming in short, rapid succession. Seumas wrung out a wet cloth and placed it on Conn’s brow. With a sigh, Conn closed his eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Wyndham

Wedding preparations at Wyndham soon grew out of hand. Villagers and hall residents alike vied with each other with greenery and flowers for decorations, and their promises of food and pastries to feed hungry guests. Brianna surveyed the festive room with a critical eye. A serving girl approached her.

“Milady, how many rooms do ye wish us to prepare?”

“I dinnae know, but I will find out.”

With a brief nod, the lass hurried away. Glancing to the doorway, Brianna called to the man entering the hall. “Rabbie?”

He turned at the sound of his name, his good-natured face beaming at her. He hurried to her side. “What is wrong?”

Brianna pinned a half-smile on her face, determined to keep her frustration from showing. “Could you find how many are coming from Morven and when? The wedding is in two days and I havenae heard word from his lairdship.”

Rabbie waved her concern aside and reached for a hunk of bread from the basket on the table. “Och, dinnae
fash
. Put the women in the rooms upstairs and the men on the floor here. Like as not they will just come for the day, one night at the most. Morven is only a few hours’ ride from here.”

And like as not the men will be fair puggled and not care where they sleep
. Brianna gave an exasperated sigh. No one seemed to be concerned the groom hadn’t put in an appearance yet or even bothered to inform them of the wedding party arriving with him as she’d asked. Was she the only one who worried about this?

“Rabbie, I havenae heard from him in the past few days. The wedding is the day after tomorrow and I find this verra troublesome.”

“He has likely had much to occupy him—rousting Malcolm and getting Corfin Castle ready for his new bride.” Rabbie grinned. “He is a lucky man, the laird is, and he wouldnae be so foolish as to muck this up.”

With that heartfelt piece of wisdom, Rabbie strode away, popping the bread in his mouth before reaching for a mug of ale. Brianna scrubbed her hands over her face, damping down her inner turmoil.
Damned inconsiderate if ye ask me. Leaves me to do all the work for the wedding and thinks all involved is a ‘come hither’ look from him on the wedding night.

Well, he can show up when he likes. If he cares so little, he can sleep on the floor with the guests.
She started to call Rabbie back and instruct him to ride to Morven anyway, but hesitated
. Even if I send Rabbie to Morven for information, he will scarcely get back before Conn arrives. I am too worried about such a thing. I willnae think on it again.

* * *

“Ye look beautiful, lass,” Una said as she brushed Brianna’s hair to a lustrous shine. “And ye will look like a faerie princess in yer finery.”

Brianna sat before the low table in her robe, unwilling to put on her new wedding dress until just before the ceremony for fear of wrinkling or staining it. Una had stayed up far into the wee hours for several nights putting the finishing touches on the teal velvet gown, edged in silver satin.

She shifted on the hard chair.

“Quit yer fidgeting.” Una pulled the brush through Brianna’s curls. “He will be here soon enough. Ye are acting like a new bride, not one who knows what to expect from her groom.”

Amazingly, Brianna felt heat steal up her neck. The reminder this was her second wedding also brought to mind what she’d worked herself to exhaustion these last few nights to forget. She was also a pregnant bride. Certainly not a rarity, but it pained her personal sense of rightness. She swept from the chair and crossed to the window on the far side of the room to peer outside, seeing the milling crowd at the front of the hall. To her consternation, there still was no word from Morven.

“Anna! Anna!” Jamie bounded into the room, Tam on his heels. “Look at my new shirt!” He leapt onto the bed, bouncing high on the plump mattress, spinning around as he showed off the garment. Tam barked happily, dancing about on his hind legs, mimicking Jamie’s moves.

“Jamie!” Both Una and Brianna cried together as the lad’s feet nearly trod on Brianna’s new gown. She snatched Jamie from the bed as Una swept her hard work into her arms, smoothing the gown over a nearby chair. With a frown, both inspected their charges, finding neither the child nor the gown the worse for the near disaster.

“Ye nearly ruined the dress Una made for me,” Brianna scolded as she placed Jamie on the floor. Tam nosed him as though checking him for harm, then sat his furry rump on the floor, his tail swishing softly against the worn wood. Brianna propped her fists on her hips and tried to look stern.

“Now, show me how nice ye look in yer new shirt—with yer feet on the ground!”

Jamie pouted at the scolding, but instantly brightened as he whirled about, arms spread, showing her the shirt she’d finished for him only yesterday. It was her gift to him to make him feel included in the wedding preparations.

Her heart ached to think she’d be leaving him in a little more than a day, and though her da was showing surprising interest in his son, Jamie hardly knew him, and she knew it would be difficult for Jamie to adjust to her being gone—really gone this time. It was time she considered leaving Tam for the lad to play with. Perhaps the dog’s ready friendship would help ease the pangs of parting.

“Ye look fine, Young Jamie,” she told him proudly.

“I am not Jamie!” he announced with a glare, hands on his hips, mimicking her emphatic stance. “My name is James. Jamie is for bairns!”

Brianna reached and tweaked his nose. “Och, James, ye will always be
Jamie
to yer big sister.”

“James! Call me James!” he shouted as he ran from the room. Tam lurched after him. Brianna looked to Una, who shook her head.

“Are ye sure ye can handle him?”

Una smoothed the fabric of Brianna’s gown one more time. “Wee Jamie had best learn to behave himself with ye not here. ’Tis unlikely the laird will be letting ye bring him along after the wedding.”

Brianna slowly shook her head. “Nae. I dinnae think he will ask Jamie to come with us.”

She chewed her lip pensively as she reached for her wedding gown, feeling the weight of responsibility increase instead of lessen as the wedding hour drew near.

* * *

The murmuring sounds of the guests faded as one by one they noticed Brianna on the stairs. She clasped her hands tightly, striving to appear composed, chin up, tension singing through her body. Speculation ran rampant as the day passed and the groom failed to show. The hour was now late and she knew her guests were hungry. Delinquent groom or not, they deserved to be fed.

At her sign, Cook nodded to her assistants, who jumped into action, scurrying to and from the kitchen, laden with platters of food and flagons of wine. Brianna picked up her skirt in one hand and turned. Instead of joining her guests, she returned to her room.

The next morning, she greeted the lingering guests as though they’d merely stopped by for a brief stay, her smile strained. She waited until after the noon meal before she warmly thanked her guests for their visit. Meeting Gavin in the hallway, she brushed aside his look of concern.

She held out her fist, palm down, and let the sapphire pendant fall into his outstretched hand. Her eyes bored into his.

“Sell it.”

Changing into breeches and a shirt, she fled to the stables and quickly saddled Maude. Releasing Tam from the stall where he’d been kept during the anticipated festivities, she mounted and turned the mare loose to run.

Wind whipped her face and she cursed herself for how much her heart ached, how much Conn’s letters now hurt.

I should have known not to trust him. I
did
know. But I believed his pretty words. His lies.

His lies—his lies—his lies. The words echoed in the tattoo beat of Maude’s hooves.

I willnae trust him again. And he will never be welcome at Wyndham—never.

Much later, as she returned, she tugged on the reins, halting just beyond the manicured yard around the hall. The sky blazed with shades of vermillion as the sun set.
Surely the guests are long gone.

She rubbed a palm over her belly and inhaled deeply. What was she to do now?

Chapter 22

The sun was riding high the next time Conn woke. He tried to sit up, groaning aloud at the effort. Instantly, the bedroom door opened and Gillis stuck his head inside.

“Are ye better, Laird?”

Conn slowly slid to a sitting position, though the effort left him dizzy. “Aye. Give me a moment.” Waiting for the pounding in his head to subside, he motioned Gillis closer. The lad hesitantly crossed the room and stood several feet from the bed.

“Ye expect me to bite?” Conn asked when Gillis stopped short, surprised at how thin his voice sounded. Gillis took another cautious step toward the bed. “Tell me what happened.”

Gillis shifted his feet and glanced around the room. The silence lengthened and a tuneless whistle dribbled from the lad’s lips. Impatient, Conn swept the covers from his lap and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Gillis rushed to his side as his legs buckled beneath him. Catching Conn with his shoulder as he tumbled forward, he guided him back onto the bed.

“What the hell is going on?” Conn demanded. His head pounded again, and he was angry. Very angry. The door opened, and Seumas entered the chamber.

“Here, now, Laird. Ye arenae strong enough to get out of bed yet.”

“Why not?” Conn ground out through clenched teeth.

Seumas gave him a bland look. “Ye have been sick.”

“Why have I been sick?” Conn grunted, his effort to speak making his head pound harder.

“I believe ’twas something ye ate.”

“Was anyone else taken ill?”

Gillis and Seumas exchanged looks. Conn glared at the pair through narrowed eyes. “Well?”

Finally Seumas laid a gnarled hand on Conn’s shoulder. “Bray has been verra ill.”

Conn lurched forward. “How ill?”

“He will recover, but it will take time.”

“What happened?”

“Rest a wee bit. We will talk again when ye are stronger.”

Conn’s hand shot out, grasping the other man’s wrist. Seumas winced as the grip tightened and finally nodded. “I will tell ye,” he said. “But ye must promise to stay abed. Ye cannae do more for him than has already been done, and I willnae watch all my good work here go to waste.”

He gave Conn a glower meant to keep him in place. Conn returned it with an even stare of his own, dangerously close to losing his temper.