Page 43 of Lyon of Scotland
“If you do not mind, my lord.”
“I am honored, and not the least your lord. We did not begin our marriage in a formal way—we may as well relax with one another.”
Her lips twitched. “Hush, Dare. Be still.” He blinked to acknowledge her use of his name and allowed her to work while he watched the running shoreline, his gaze now and again touching hers like a caress. She traced the firm line of his jaw, then the delightful disorder of his hair, and then shaded and rounded his lips. Adding clarity to his eyes where the daylight brightened his irises, she introduced glints of light. Her hand moved rapidly, her ring dazzling in the sun.
“Thank you again for the ring. It is beautiful. However did you manage it? You can talk for a minute,” she added with a laugh.
“A jeweler had it available today. It seemed to suit you, so delicate and pretty. The stones create a message.”
She lifted her finger as the stones gleamed. “Oh! Diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby—D–E–A–R.” Tears pooled in her eyes.
“Lass.” He moved then, leaning to touch her hand, hold her fingers lightly. “Dear lass. We will find our way through this. I promise.”
“This all happened so fast. I am so grateful to you,” she said.
“Whatever you need, my dear. Ah, here comes a lad bearing gifts.” He looked past her as Linhope returned carrying two game boxes, a deck of cards, books, and a plate piled with fresh scones.
As soon as the men were settled over a game of cards, Hannah took up her sketchbook and sketched them holding their cards, Linhope lean and fair, his hair so blond she need only indicate its waves, Strathburn dark and regal, his long, brawny form eased into the chair. She returned to the larger drawing to work in more detail, adding the folds and arcs in his cravat, the creases in his jacket, the slight crinkling around his eyes, remembering his expression now, for his face was turned away. With every glance, she studied and savored and felt hunger building within her, not just the need to capture the strength and beauty she saw in him, but the simmering of a deeper physical need. Now that yearning found its home in him, near him, with him.
She did not want to think beyond the present moment, which merged contentment and anticipation. As the steamship moved steadily, the coast was distant but still visible, and a glance seaward showed the white, rippling, foamy tail of the vessel’s wake, and the vast gray stretch of the North Sea beyond it.
Again she thought of Frederic Dove, and felt as if clouds suddenly covered the light. She desperately hoped he would not follow them north to demand that Dare pay him in her stead.She would never forget the man’s hard, narrow stare just after the wedding—the wedding he had so boldly attended. The flash of contempt in his eyes made her very aware that the situation would not resolve easily.
“Strathburn,” she asked later, when he had finished a game of cards and sat beside her once again. “Why does Frederic Dove have such a grudge against us? I still do not understand.”
He blew out a breath. “I think the man hates Scots so much that he felt compelled to punish us,” he said. “And there are other reasons, too. Do not think about it, my lass. We need to put it behind us.”
“Is it over?” she asked quietly, leaning toward him. “Be truthful with me.”
He took her hand in his, entwining their fingers, lifting her palm to kiss it briefly, all he could properly do in that very public room.
“I do not know,” he finally said.
The Shakespeare Hotelwas a whitewashed, narrow building nudged between a small theatre with slim pillars and an old tavern where light glowed through bottle-glass windows. Dare felt the drag of fatigue as he walked with Hannah and Linhope. His friend led the way, familiar with the village of Kingston upon Hull, near the docks where their steamship now rested. Once Hannah was settled, Dare planned to search for the Scottish steamer carrying the whisky intended for London; later he would rejoin his bride.
Bride.He almost missed his step along the cobbled way.
As they entered the hotel, Hannah stumbled a little and he caught her arm; he sensed how weary she was. No one greeted them in the empty, dim foyer. Dare approached the high desk positioned beside a staircase, noticed a dangling cord, and pulled, hearing a bell chime elsewhere. They waited.
Footsteps, and a young woman rushed out from a room down the corridor, cheeks flushed, hair sliding free of a mobcap. “Sirs? Madam? Has another ship docked?”
“Aye. A room, please,” Dare said.
“We have one room free. Others are full,” she said. “We only got four rooms here. There’s a fee if you want another blanket or pillow.”
“That will do.” He wondered if the place was clean, but it seemed tidy enough. He signed the register:Lord and Lady Strathburn, Perthshire.
“Goodnight, my lady,” Linhope said. “Sir, I will be outside.” He stepped out.
“Lord and lady, is it?” The woman peered at Dare’s signature. “Oh my! Well. Ten shillings for the room. Two more for clean towels. Bed linens are fresh, I swear. The boy will carry your baggage. First room on the left upstairs.” She indicated the lad just coming around the corner. “Breakfast offered next door in the tavern. Discounted for hotel guests, my lord.”
“Aye then.” Dare glanced at Hannah. She looked pale and spent; he wondered if he should carry her up the steps. He was weary too, and just wanted to get upstairs Taking coins from his sporran, he traded them for the key and folded towels. As he guided Hannah to the stairs, the boy ran ahead with the bags. She climbed slowly, holding the banister while Dare floated a hand at her back.
He opened the door and paid the lad, who set down the bags and ran off. On impulse, Dare scooped his bride into his arms. She rode lightly in his embrace until he set her on her feet on a patterned rug that covered much of the floor.
The room was snug; if he reached out, he could almost span the walls. A bed against the wall sagged under a flowery quilt and flat pillows; beside it was a small table where an oil lamp flickered. A wooden chair under the single window and a cornerstand held a wash basin and pitcher. Through the window’s mottled glass, he glimpsed the distant gleam of the sea, specks of lantern light, and sails and prows lining the dock.
Looking dazed, Hannah sat on the bed. Dare set the towels on the table and turned. “You should rest,” he told her. “I will go out with Arthur and return shortly.”
