The Imposter (14 page)

“I imagine he
dreams of me plotting his demise and smothering his bairns tae secure my
right,” Devon said, eyes down cast at his now empty glass.  He reached for the
bottle of wine and topped my glass off before refilling his own.

“So, to ease his
mind, he would kill you?” I questioned, taken aback such ruthlessness between
brothers.

“Aye, or even more
conveniently, anger the Camerons so that they will take care of the deed for
him. If I weren’t so deft with a sword, I’d probably no have made it tae the
ripe age of twenty-six.   Do ye understand my plight now, lass?” his eyes
quarried my own.  “It’s not that I don’t want ye, but that I canna have ye.  I couldna
live with myself, knowing that I had marrit ye for selfish reasons, dragging ye
into God knows what kind of danger.”

“What selfish
reasons?” I asked, color flushing my face from my boldness.

Devon raked his
hand through his hair and looked up at me from beneath his heavy lashes.  “I
want ye, Kate,” he admitted huskily as his eyes held my gaze.  “I ken that it’s
selfish and most likely a deadly sin, but when ye look at me and when ye kiss
me, I feel like I might die from the shear joy of it,” he confessed, reaching
out to brush my cheek with the palm of his hand.

My heart beat
faster in response to his open confession and I bit my lip to repress a smile. 

Devon leaned
forward and claimed my lips in the most gentle of kisses, causing my heart to
race faster in response to his touch, his lips against mine.

He pulled away
slightly and said, “And it’s because I want ye sae badly, because of my selfish
desires, that I’m afraid.”

I knew for a fact
that Devon McClain was never afraid of anything. 

Although I found Devon
devilishly sexy, and had been attracted to both his wit and his body from our
first encounter, I had no claim on this man.  The offer of his protection was
enticing and I was secretly pleased to discover that he did in fact want me,
but felt that he couldn’t have me due to his situation.  I had my own selfish
reasons for suddenly wanting to marry Devon McClain. I was beginning to believe
that I needed Devon.  I was also beginning to believe that I might in fact
want
to marry him.

I looked at Devon
and at the desire that was so evident in his eyes, and I was emboldened by what
I saw.  Leaning forward, I traced the curve of his masculine jaw, the bristle
of his stubble tickling my fingers.  “I have my own selfish reasons, Devon
McClain, and…I want you too,” I confessed, surprising myself. 

His lips curled in
the beginning of a smile and I pressed my lips to his, eliciting a low growl of
approval from deep in his throat.  His kiss was more urgent now, more
demanding, and I opened my mouth in response.  His tongue drove into my mouth,
staking claim as it dueled with my own.  My arms were around his neck, toying
with his hair as I welcomed his desirous kiss, meeting his need with my own. 
It was true.  I wanted him back, damn the consequences.

Devon broke the
kiss, breathing heavily.  I felt wanton and free, having admitted so openly my
attraction, having kissed him back so freely.  Devon straightened and pulled
away from me, trying to collect his thoughts.  He appeared to be as shaken by our
kiss as I was.

“Well, lass, I
think that there is something that I need tae ask ye,” intense green eyes
studied me over the rim of his wine glass as he took a deep dreg of wine. “I
ken that this isna what ye had planned,” he breathed out slowly, trying to
collect his thoughts.  “I ken that ye thought that ye were coming here tae
marry the laird, and now ye might be stuck with me, penniless lout that I am. 
I thought that even though we have little choice in this matter, that if we do
go though with it, I should ask ye will ye have me as yer husband?”

 He set his glass
on the table and moved from the settee.  Then the beautiful man before me
dropped slowly to one knee.  He looked directly into my eyes, and asked me with
palpable sincerity, “Will ye marry me, Kate?”

I almost choked on
my wine.

Chapter Eight

“Ye look lovely,
lass,” Collin greeted me as I entered the small stone chapel.

“Like a lamb being
led to slaughter?” I smiled my broadest smile, sarcasm heavy in my voice.  I
did not like Collin and loathed the fact that he was to shortly become my
brother-in-law.

“Weel, that’s not
exactly what I was thinking.  I canna even give ye a compliment on yer wedding
day?” he feigned innocence and good will in a most lame attempt.  “Ye are to
become my good-sister today.  I’d hoped that we could patch up our poor
relations and start fresh.” 

“How convenient
for you,” my voice was cold and dismissive.  I had no love for this man and
could not find it within myself to entertain his empty attempts at conversation. 
“I need a few moments to get ready,” I said, looking towards the door of the
enclave, encouraging Collin to take his leave.

“As ye wish, but doona
take tae long,” he said, as he turned around and walked briskly from the room.

The small enclave
towards the back of the chapel was flooded with maids, who fluttered about me
making last minute preparations for the ceremony.  My cheeks were pinched for
color and my hair held so many pins that my scalp ached from their weight. 

“I think that’ll
do mistress,” Milly clucked and she added a final pin to secure a stray curl. 
She stood back to admire her handiwork, and then bent down to adjust a fold in
my midnight blue satin gown.  “This must have cost him a fortune,” she murmured
as she brushed at the fabric, willing it to lie perfectly as it cascaded to the
floor.

            “Cost who a fortune?” I
inquired, “I know that the Laird wants to get rid of me, so I’m sure that he
would pay a pretty penny to have me dressed up if that is what it takes to
collect my dowry!”

“Och, lass!  The
Laird wouldna have cared if you wore your shift tae be marrit!  He was hard
pressed to allow the wedding to take place here at the chapel, but Devon
insisted that ye be wed in Kirk.  Rumor was that the Laird wanted the two of ye
marrit by the priest as quickly and quietly as possible.  He wanted this deal
neatly tied up.”

“So Devon
refused?” I questioned.

“Aye.  He caused
quite a fuss, yellin’ at his brother, threatening him with all sorts of awful
things.  When these two go after each other, they cause a commotion fit to tear
down the keep!  Brothers will squabble ye ken, but these two ha never got on
well.  Collin being the oldest, and feeling like his poor mam was replaced when
the Laird marrit Devon’s mam and started a new family.  Collin never forgave
his Da for that, but what’s a man to do when his wife dies?  Ye cannot begrudge
a man, especially a Laird, the desire for a new wife to warm his bed.”

“I suppose that
was hard for Collin.  How old was he when his mother died?” I followed,
continuing the conversation in an effort to remove the thought from my head of
the immanency of me being a wife, and the expectation of warming my husband’s
bed.

“Ten or so, I
would imagine.  Old enough to know what was going on and certainly old enough
to feel put out by his Da.”  There was an uncomfortable pause as Milly judged
just how much history she should divulge about the Laird’s upbringing and
family squabbles. 

“But, as for yer
dress lass, Devon bought this for ye,” Milly steered the course of the
conversation back to less troubled waters.  “That was his other condition to
his brother.  He wanted you to have a proper wedding, in Kirk, with a dress so
that ye might feel that this wedding was wanted.” Milly looked up at me,
searching for my response.  It was clear that she had quite a soft spot for Devon,
having known him all her life.

“Oh, I didn’t
know.” I looked down at the dress.  It was beautiful, and quite extravagant. 
It was made of the deepest blue satin fabric, a color that accentuated my pale
complexion and auburn hair perfectly.  What surprised me the most was the fit. 
The dress fit me like a glove.  The simple elegance of the gown was
understated.  There was no beading or ruffles, remittances that suited me
perfectly.  The neckline was wide cut into a low boat neck.  The bodice was
fitted, with laces at the back of the dress to bind it tightly to my body,
causing my breasts to peek out seductively atop the neckline. I loved the dress
and I couldn’t help but feel beautiful.  Somehow I knew that Devon had picked
the dress out himself, knowing that it was perfect for me.  I was quite taken
aback by his care for my feelings.

 “Why didn’t
anyone tell me that he bought this dress?”

“For one, ye didna
ask.  Secondly, that’s how Devon is lass.  He’s generous to a fault, often
beyond his means.  When he bought ye the dress, he wasn’t looking for
appreciation from you.  He was making an offering of good will.  Or at the very
least, an offering of what might be between the two of ye in time.”

My hand rose to
the satin bodice and I felt a glimmer of hope about my future with this man
that was soon to become my husband.  Any man that cared about something as
simple as a wedding dress, knowing how much such an object would mean to a
woman on her wedding day, was surely a good one. 

“Ye look lovely,
lass.” Milly stood back and admired her masterpiece.

“Thank you, Milly,”
I said as I forced a smile.  I had been pinched, prodded and fluffed, but
begrudgingly, I had to admit that I felt pretty in this dress, my wedding
dress.  Milly had done well.  My dark auburn curls had been pinned up and fell
loosely about my shoulders.  The dress fit me like a glove, and accentuated my
small waist perfectly.  With each breath, my breasts rose and fell above the
low neckline.  The cut of the dress showed them off to their best advantage. 

“Will there be
anything else ye need?” Milly asked, reaching forward to smooth the satin skirt
one final time.

“No.  No thank
you.  I’d like to be left alone for a few minutes if you wouldn’t mind?”

“As ye wish lass. 
I ken the nerves that a lassie feels on her wedding day.” Milly turned and left
the room, pulling the chamber door closed behind her.

I walked to the
small window that looked out over the chapel garden and leaned my cheek against
the cold stone wall.  I closed my eyes and focused on the coolness of the
stone, focusing my thoughts inward.  My breath was steady and I felt the warmth
of each breath as I slowly exhaled.  I calmed my racing thoughts with the
rhythmic nature of my breath.  In and out, chest rising and falling.  I would
need every ounce of my composure to get myself through today.  Every fiber in
my body was screaming for me to run, to find a way out of this situation.  I
willed my body to be calm, to accept this situation, and to think rationally. 
I am strong.  I can get through this.  This wedding was the best chance that I
would have at securing safety for myself.  Devon would bring me safety.  He had
promised to give his life in order to keep me safe.

I felt as though
my life was dangling by a string.  A string which bound me fragilely to my old
life.  I was like a droplet of water at the end of this string that was
stretching from the pull of gravity, the pull of this world that I was about to
plunge irrevocably into.  The more I tried to pull at the string, to grasp the
shreds of the life that I had before, the stronger I was pulled into my present
life. Every cell in my body was tense with the understanding that I was about
to step boldly, albeit unwillingly into this new world when I had agreed to
take Devon McClain as my husband.

There was a quiet,
hesitant knock on the door. I jumped, startled from my thoughts and did my best
to compose myself for the trial that I was about to face. I let out a final,
calming breath and turned as Milly opened the door to the small chamber.

“They’re ready for
ye, lass,” she whispered, smiling with encouragement.

I walked towards
her, standing strong and proud.   I refused to give Collin the satisfaction of
dragging me to the alter.  Unfortunately, my body was not totally in agreement,
and I was unnerved by the shakiness of my legs.  I clasped my hands together to
calm their shaking.  With my chin held high, I walked out the chamber door to
meet my groom. 

Collin was the first
to see me in the doorway of the chapel and he announced my presence by clearing
his throat to draw the attention of the others.  There were three men standing
at the alter of the church.  The rest of the chapel was silent and empty. I was
disappointed not to see Leti, having assumed that she would be here today.  Milly
stood beside me in the doorway, silent and firm, her hand resting lightly on
the small of my back, ready to propel me forward if the necessity arose. 

As I stepped
forward into the chapel, Devon turned around and his eyes locked with mine.  A
nervous smile spread across his face as he held my gaze. He was resplendent,
fully decked out in Highland regalia. His presence took my breath away, causing
a hitch in my step. This man was beautiful, a real life warrior.  I focused on
him as I continued forward.  His hair was loose about his shoulders and he was
cleanly shaven.  His outfit was no doubt his formal best.  A white billowing
shirt was underneath his crimson kilt, which was gathered about his shoulder
and secured by a massive broach.  His green eyes held my gaze and although the
smile had faded from his lips, I felt as though he was focusing on me in the
same way that I was focusing on him.  Both of us clinging to each other to
remain composed in this precarious situation. 

I walked
mechanically down the aisle of the small chapel, feeling Milly’s hand ever
present on my back.  When we reached the alter, the pressure applied to my
spine became more firm, insistent.  Milly almost pushed me forward, causing me
to crash back to reality and realize that indeed, my legs had been locked in
place in a final effort of refusal to this unbelievable turn of events. Devon
reached out a hand to steady me, as if sensing that I was about to bolt for the
door.  His touch calmed me and I held on to his hand for dear life.  He
gathered me up next to him and we moved as one body forward to stand in front
of the priest.