To Marry A Scottish Laird (10 page)

“About what?” Ross asked. “The wedding?”

“Aye. I’d rather tell her meself,” Cam said quietly.

Ross nodded solemnly, and then grimaced and stood up. “We’d best get upstairs then, ere they tell her fer ye.”

Standing abruptly, Cam followed him to the stairs and started up with him.

They were nearly to the top before Cam said, “I’d like to speak to her alone.”

Ross nodded as they started along the landing. “O’ course. If the girls have no’ already told her, I’ll send them below and—”

“
What?
”

Cam stopped and glanced to Ross when that shriek rang out.

The MacKay grimaced, and then said apologetically, “I’m thinkin’ me daughters may ha’e said something.”

Cam merely started forward again, moving more swiftly this time.

“
Marry
him?” came the next cry as he was approaching the door. “Nay!”

“Aye, they definitely said something,” Ross muttered, catching his arm. He waited until Cam turned to peer at him and then said, “And I think ye’d best wait below while I talk with me niece.”

Cam stood still, mouth tight, Joan’s horrified shout seeming to echo in his ears.

“Campbell,” Ross said firmly.

Cam sucked in a breath, his head raising, shoulders straightening, and then nodded silently, turned on his heel and headed back downstairs. The good news was, she definitely would not be marrying him for his wealth. Apparently even that wasn’t enough of a lure to tempt her.

“Now, Joan, I am sure the girls have this a little muddled up,” Annabel said, a small frown on her face as she tried to calm her.

“Nay, Kenna is right, Mother,” Annella said quietly. “Father said Cam and Joan were to marry. Here. After the nooning. Cook is preparing a feast as we speak.”

“You must have misunderstood, Annella,” Annabel said firmly. “Cam would hardly marry without his parents present and by the time a messenger reached Sinclair . . .” She shook her head. “There is no way they could get here in time.”

“Cam said he did no’ wish his parents to attend,” Kenna announced.

Joan vaguely noted the way Annabel frowned at this news, but was too distracted with her own thoughts to care. Cam didn’t want his parents at their wedding? Not that she was marrying him, she assured herself. But if they had been going to marry, why would he not want his parents to attend? Was he ashamed of her? Because she was brought up a peasant?

“I am sure you are mistaken,” Annabel insisted. “Your father would hardly agree to marry off your cousin to Campbell Sinclair without at least talking to me first. And her, of course,” she added with a diplomatic smile for Joan.

“But he said—”

“Annella, Kenna, go below please.”

All four females glanced toward the door at that order in a deep voice. Joan scowled when she saw Ross MacKay in the now open door. Her gaze then shifted to her cousins as Kenna reluctantly released her hand, which she’d still been holding, and followed her sister dutifully out of the room.

Annabel waited until Ross had closed the door behind her daughters, and then hurried anxiously across the room. “Husband, the girls said that you have arranged for Cam and Joan to marry.”

“Aye,” the MacKay said solemnly, clasping her upper arms soothingly. “ ’Tis sorry I am that I did no’ talk to ye about it first, wife. But it would ha’e made little difference. They ha’e to marry. After what the men and I saw this morning when we found them . . .” He shook his head. “Honor demanded he marry her.”

Joan grimaced, aware that she was blushing. But she protested, “We weren’t doing anything. We were talking.”

“Cam was bare arsed and ye were in his arms,” Ross said grimly.

“He wasn’t—” she began and then changed directions with her argument because his shirt did not always cover his entire behind and he may very well have been bare arsed. “We were only talking.”

“Oh?” Ross asked with obvious disbelief. “Cam agreed that honor demanded he marry ye. Ye’re saying otherwise?”

Joan’s mouth tightened. He had agreed for honor’s sake. Not exactly flattering.

“So if Annabel were to examine ye, she’d find ye still a maiden?” he asked calmly.

“Ross,” Annabel protested.

“She’s our responsibility now, wife. We ha’e to see to her future,” he said quietly, and then pointed out, “She could be with child even now.”

“Nay, I ha’e been taking Devil’s plague to ensure that didn’t happen,” Joan said quickly, and then knew by Annabel’s expression that it had been the wrong thing to say. She’d as good as admitted she’d given Cam her innocence. Sighing, she shook her head. “This has nothing to do with you. I have managed on my own since my mother fell ill and can continue to do so. I will not marry him. In fact, this,” she gestured to the gown she wore, “was a mistake. I’ll change back to my own clothes and leave you be. You can pretend I never came here and gave you that message.”

“Oh, Joan, no, you cannot!” Annabel protested at once, hurrying back to her side.

“Me wife’s right,” Ross said grimly. “Ye may ha’e managed on yer own ere this, lass, but that’s only because we did no’ ken about ye. We do now. Ye’re our niece and as such yer our responsibility.” He paused briefly and then added, “And as yer uncle, I’m tellin’ ye, ye’re no’ going anywhere. Ye’ll stay here and marry Cam as has been arranged.”

“But he doesn’t want me,” Joan protested at once.

“Does he no’?” Ross asked, eyebrows rising. “And yet he was quick to say he should marry ye when ye women came above stairs.”

“That’s just because he knew you would expect him to,” she argued wearily. “He had no intention of marrying me ere finding out that I was your niece.”

“Mayhap not,” Ross said with a shrug. “But ye are me niece, and ye’ll marry because ’tis the right thing to do.”

The MacKay turned on his heel and strode from the room then, leaving Joan glaring after him.

“ ’Twill be all right,” her aunt said quietly, rubbing Joan’s arm soothingly, her gaze on the door her husband had left through.

“How can it be?” Joan asked miserably, and then blurted, “I can’t marry him. I’ll not live my life in fear.”

Annabel turned back to her with surprise. “You’re afraid of Cam?”

“Aye. Nay. I do not mean that I fear he would hit me or such,” she added quickly when Annabel frowned.

“Then what do you mean?” her aunt asked, trying to understand.

Joan tried to find the words to explain, and then finally admitted, “When your husband came upon us, Cam had just said he didn’t want what we had to end and asked me to go to Sinclair with him after I delivered your message and I said no.”

“You did not want to go to Sinclair with him?” Annabel asked with a frown.

“Oh, aye, I did,” Joan assured her. “I wanted desperately to go.”

Confusion clouded her face. “Well then—”

“I was afraid,” Joan admitted unhappily. “I still am. I’ve never felt like this. The more I’m with him the more I want to be with him. I feel so happy with Cam, no matter what we’re doing. Walking, talking, sitting quietly by the fire, and . . . everything else,” she finished lamely, and then sighed. “I’ve never been so happy as I was this last two weeks. Ever,” she admitted quietly, and then added, “But when he asked me to go with him . . .” She shook her head. “As happy as I’ve been these last two weeks, when he asked me to go with him, all I could think was how miserable I would be when he tired of me for mistress and turned his attentions to another.”

“You love him,” Annabel said gently.

“Mayhap,” Joan said wearily.

“You do,” Annabel assured her. “But you do not have to be afraid anymore, Joan. You will not be going to Sinclair as his mistress but as his wife. He cannot throw you aside for another.”

“Nay,” she acknowledged. “But he never wanted to marry again. He told me so himself. And now he’s being forced to.” Joan shook her head hopelessly. “He’ll hate me for our having to wed. And how awful do you think it will be being married to him, when he hates me?”

Annabel sighed and pulled her into her arms for a hug. Rubbing her back, she said, “I know it does not seem like it now, but life has a way of working out.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t seem like it,” Joan said unhappily.

“I felt much the same when I was told I was to marry Ross,” Annabel said solemnly. “I thought he would be disappointed in me as a wife. I had been raised to become a nun. I had no training as a wife. I did not know the first thing about running a keep or—”

“Dear God,” Joan cried, pulling free as horror rolled over her. “I didn’t think of that!”

“What?” Annabel asked with bewilderment.

“I have no training either, but not just to run a keep. I was raised in the village. I don’t know the first thing about even being a lady. ’Tis no wonder he doesn’t want his parents at the wedding. He is embarrassed by me and they will be horrified the minute they—”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Joan,” Annabel interrupted quickly, and then added. “Besides, unlike me, you are not alone. I will not abandon you as my mother did me. I can teach you all that you need to know. It will be all right.”

Joan stared at her silently. She wanted to believe that everything would be all right, but in her experience, things rarely turned out all right in this life.

Chapter 9

“
D
O YE PL
AN TO SIT HERE ALL NIGHT?
Or will ye join yer new bride in bed?”

Cam glanced up from his contemplation of his ale at Laird MacKay’s question and heaved a sigh. “I suppose I should retire.”

“So eager,” Ross said dryly and then shook his head. “I do no’ understand the pair o’ ye. Ye seemed cozy as could be in the woods this morning, and ye’ve admitted ye bedded the lass on the journey here. Yet now ye’re both acting like marrying each other is the worst punishment available.”

“ ’Tis no’ me who sees it as a punishment,” Cam said dryly, turning his tankard on the tabletop. “In case ye hadn’t noticed, she looked like a lamb on the way to the slaughter this afternoon during the ceremony.”

“Aye, she did,” Ross agreed. “But then you looked as grim as if ye were at a funeral so mayhap she was just reacting to that.”

Cam shook his head wearily. “She does no’ want me for husband.”

“Hmmm.” Ross took a drink of his own ale and then shook his head. “That’s the same thing she said about you.”

“What?” he turned on him with amazement.

“Aye.” Ross nodded. “She said ye didn’t want her and were only marrying her fer honor’s sake.”

Cam scowled at this news. “Well then she’s daft. Hell, when ye came upon us in the clearing I’d just asked her to come to Sinclair with me after she delivered her message . . . and she said she did no’ want to.”

Ross considered that, and then asked, “What were ye asking her to go to Sinclair as?”

“What do ye mean?” Cam asked with a frown.

“Well, were ye planning to marry her? Did ye invite her to work at Sinclair? Or were ye suggesting she go as yer mistress?”

“I . . .” Cam paused. He hadn’t even considered marriage. He’d said he would never marry again so often that it had become a truth, although really it was the risking a wife on the birthing bed that he didn’t want. But to his mind that meant never having a wife since all women wanted children. Except Joan. She feared the birthing bed, and like him, didn’t want to risk it and had the knowledge to avoid it. In truth, she would be the perfect wife for him in that regard, and yet he hadn’t considered marriage. After all, she was a commoner and he a noble and that just did not happen. At least, not often.

“Annabel thinks the lass loves ye,” Ross announced suddenly, effectively bringing an end to Cam’s ruminations.

He glanced to him sharply. “She does? Why?”

Ross shrugged. “She did no’ say why she thought it, just that she did.”

Cam turned his gaze to his tankard again, his mind racing. Did she love him? That would be— He halted his thoughts and glanced back to Ross. “If Lady Annabel is right, why did Joan refuse to come to Sinclair with me?”

“Pride?” Ross suggested and then grimaced and shrugged. “Who can tell with women? I ha’e been married more than twenty years to one female and reared two more and much as I love them all, still do no’ understand why they do what they do most o’ the time.” He took a drink of his ale, then added, “In truth, I do no’ think even they ken why they do much o’ what they do. They’re very emotional creatures, and there often seems little logic to their decisions until they explain them and then it usually boils down to their being tenderhearted. At least it does with me Annabel and the girls.”

“Women,” Cam sighed with mild disgust.

“Aye, they can be a trial,” Ross agreed and then smiled and added, “but they can be heaven as well and I would no’ give up me Annabel or our daughters fer all the gold in England and Scotland.”

Cam smiled faintly, knowing that was the absolute truth. Ross MacKay loved his wife and his children dearly. And they in turn, loved him back. He was a lucky man. Cam had given up any hope of having that when his first wife had died, but if Joan loved him—

“I suggest ye no’ worry about her saying she did no’ want to go to Sinclair,” Ross said quietly. “The fact is, ye’re married now. She will be going, and what happens between ye from here on out is up to the two o’ ye.” When Cam merely nodded and continued to stare into his ale, Ross added, “However, I should point out that yer dallying down here rather than going up to bed her is no doubt just reinforcing her belief that ye do no’ want her.”

Cam’s head jerked up at the suggestion. The man was right, of course. Standing, he said determinedly, “I am going up.”

“Good. Then me wife will stop comforting her and come down,” Ross said dryly, then caught his arm as Cam stepped over the bench. “A moment.”

“What?” Cam asked with a frown. Now that he’d decided to go up, the delay was a bit annoying.

“Ye’re satisfied she was innocent the first time ye were together?” Ross asked, eyes narrowed.

Cam stiffened. “Aye. I told ye that when we first talked o’ me marrying her. She still had her maiden’s veil.”

Ross nodded. “But there’s the matter o’ the sheet fer proof.”

Shoulders relaxing, Cam nodded. “I shall see there is proof.”

“Good,” Ross said releasing his arm. “I shall see ye in the morning then.”

Cam nodded and turned to leave the table, but halted abruptly to avoid crashing into Payton, Ross and Annabel’s son. The nineteen-year-old stood with several men behind him, a wide grin on his face.

“ ’Tis time we took ye up to yer bride,” the young man announced.

Cam stared at him blankly, then turned to peer at Ross for help.

“Well, I was gonna let ye get away without this indignity,” the MacKay said with amusement. Getting to his feet, he added, “But, what the hell? I had to suffer it, so why no’ you too?”

“Damn,” Cam muttered as the men suddenly converged on him.

“W
HAT
IS TAKING THEM SO LONG?”
Annella asked with irritation.

“He’s not coming. Cam doesn’t want me,” Joan said unhappily, watching her cousin pace the room. She would be up pacing with her if she weren’t completely naked. They hadn’t even allowed her a shift to sleep in, claiming the bedding ceremony called for her to be stripped and put abed, and then Cam to be as well. Who knew nobles were so barbaric? Joan thought. She had never slept naked in her life . . . well, barring the few times she’d fallen asleep after Cam had bedded her. Before that she wouldn’t have even considered it. The hut she and her mother shared had been too chilly at night once the fire went out; she’d have frozen to death had she slept naked. It was indecent.

“O’ course he wants ye,” Kenna said with amazement, rushing over to sit on the bed and claim her hands. “Why ye’re beautiful, and smart and nice. How could he no’ want ye?”

Joan smiled faintly at the girl’s words and pointed out, “I’m pretty enough but not beautiful, and how would you know I’m smart or nice? You only met me today.”

“Aye, but ye’re me cousin,” Kenna pointed out.

“So I must be nice and smart?” she asked with amusement.

“Aye,” Kenna said simply.

Joan smiled, but then sighed and shook her head.

“Kenna, dear,” Lady Annabel said suddenly. “I forgot to ask the servants to bring up wine, cheese and bread for Joan and Cam. Could you—?”

“I’ll get it, Mama,” Kenna interrupted, popping up off the bed.

“She’s such a good girl,” Annabel said with affection as the door closed behind her youngest child.

“Aye,” Joan murmured.

“Both of my girls are,” Annabel added, smiling at Annella. The sixteen-year-old smiled back and then moved to the bed and sat where Kenna had been a moment ago.

“Ye don’t really believe Cam does no’ want ye, do ye?” Annella asked with a frown, rubbing Joan’s cold hand between both of her warm ones. “Kenna’s right, ye’re beautiful, and ye do seem smart and nice.”

Joan grimaced. “It matters little if I am nice or smart. Raised in the village as I was, I don’t know the first thing about being a lady, let alone running his keep or . . . I’m sure he fears I shall embarrass him in front of his parents . . . and I probably will. ”

“Ye were raised in a village?” Annella asked with amazement.

Joan blinked, surprised the girl didn’t know that, but then realized that all Annella and Kenna knew was that she was their cousin and was marrying Cam.

“Yes, dear,” Annabel said when Joan remained silent. “Your Aunt Kate, my sister, died giving birth to Joan. Fortunately, the midwife, a healer from the village, was a kind and loving woman who raised her as her own.”

“In an English village?” Annella asked with dismay.

Joan couldn’t tell which horrified the girl more, that she was raised in a village, or an English one.

“Aye, in Grimsby,” Annabel said calmly.

“But why was she no’ sent here?” Annella asked, turning to frown at her mother. “Ye and father should ha’e raised her.”

“Aye,” Annabel agreed. “But we did not even know she existed until today.”

“How could ye no’ ken she—”

“Not now, Annella,” Annabel interrupted quietly. “We can talk about this later.”

The girl hesitated, obviously curious to have her answers, but then suddenly turned to Joan and hugged her. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Joan asked with amazement, hands automatically rising to hug her back.

“Ye should no’ ha’e been raised in a village with strangers. Ye should ha’e been here with us. We are yer family.”

“There’s nothing for you to feel bad about,” Joan said, hugging her with more feeling now. “My mother was a good woman. She loved me and taught me much, and we did better than most. We were rarely without food, and usually had wood for the fire. I was lucky,” she assured her, but for some reason her assurances seemed to upset Annella. She could see it in her expression and tell by the way her grip on her hand tightened.

“We will teach ye how to be a lady,” Annella announced suddenly, and then glanced to her mother. “We will, will we no’?”

“Aye, of course,” Annabel said, smiling with pride on her daughter.

Nodding, Annella turned back, “I shall teach ye to dance, and play music, and all those things, and Mother can teach ye how to run a castle and such. I can help with that too but she is better at it, and—”

“They are coming!” Kenna squealed, bursting into the room with a tray of food and drink in hand. She rushed to the table by the fire to set it down, adding, “The men were lifting Cam onto their shoulders to carry him up here as I reached the stairs.”

“Off with you two then,” Annabel said, ushering her girls toward the door.

Joan frowned as she watched the girls leave the room. The moment her aunt closed the door behind them and turned back, though, she asked with dismay, “He wouldn’t come on his own? Was he so reluctant the men had to drag him up like a—?”

“ ’Tis part of the bedding,” Annabel interrupted soothingly. “The women lead the bride up and put her abed, then the men carry the groom up, strip him and put him abed next to you.”

“You mean a bunch of men are going to come in here and—?” Her words died as the door suddenly burst open and a dozen MacKay soldiers spilled into the room, bearing Cam overhead like a wild boar they’d hunted down. They had obviously celebrated the wedding well and were the worse for drink. They nearly dropped Cam when they started to lower him to the floor, and then she suspected they unintentionally hurt him a time or two as they tore off his clothes . . . and it could only be described as tearing them off. They certainly didn’t strip him as calmly and carefully as her aunt and cousins had done with her.

Joan watched the whole thing with something akin to horror. Perhaps she’d had a sheltered upbringing, or perhaps this was a Scottish tradition. She’d never attended a wedding in England, not even between commoners, so couldn’t be sure this didn’t happen in England as well, but it all seemed terribly barbaric to her.

Fortunately, it was also fast, and Cam was quickly naked and tucked into bed next to her. The men then began to file out, the laughter and ribald jokes that had accompanied them into the room fading as they moved off down the hall.

“Well, thank God that’s o’er.”

Joan glanced to Ross MacKay at that comment, noting only then that he’d been amongst the men and hadn’t left but stood by Annabel, his arm around her waist. The man—her uncle, she reminded herself—gave her a wink that she suspected was supposed to cheer her. It didn’t, any more than Annabel’s reassuring smile reassured her, but she forced a smile and the couple slipped from the room, pulling the door silently closed behind them. She and Cam were alone.

Joan breathed out slowly and shifted her gaze to the furs and linens covering her, almost afraid to look at Cam and see anger there. After a moment, she couldn’t stand the silence any more. She could actually feel Cam looking at her, and couldn’t bear that either.

“There is wine and cheese on the table by the fire if you’re hungry,” she blurted, desperate to break the silence.

“I’m hungry,” Cam admitted. “Jest no’ fer wine or cheese.”

Joan glanced at him uncertainly. He didn’t appear angry. “Then what would you rather have?”

“You.”

“You want
me
?” she squeaked.

“Aye, ye daft woman,” Cam said. Clucking his tongue with impatience, he sat up beside her in bed. “I could no’ keep me hands off ye the last two weeks, Joan. Why would it be any different now?”

“I—You’re not angry that my uncle made you marry me?” Joan asked uncertainly.

“Nay,” he assured her solemnly, tugging the linens and furs down to reveal her shoulders and breasts. Reaching out, he cupped one round globe, allowing his thumb to flick gently back and forth over the nipple as he said in a husky voice that sounded a little distracted, “ ’Sides, he did no’ make me do anything. I was the one who first said anything about marrying ye.”

“But only because you learned I was his niece,” Joan pointed out and then gasped as he suddenly bent to close his lips over the nipple he’d been toying with. He suckled at it, his tongue continuing the flicking his thumb had been doing a moment ago and Joan’s hands rose of their own accord, one clasping his shoulder, the other cupping the back of his head to urge him on as her body responded to the caress.

Releasing the nipple he’d been nursing, Cam raised his head.