Page 14 of A Scottish Lord for Christmas
He was going to crush that endearing hope in her eyes, but it wasn’t to be helped. He had business to see to in Scotland and preparations to make for his new bride. And he needed some time to adjust to this new development in his life. The past few days they’d become too…close for his liking. He needed to firm up his walls, defend himself, or else the blue-eyed sprite would crumble his resolve to keep his emotional distance.
“Unfortunately, I won’t return until a day before the wedding. There is much to be done.” He paused at the front door, where a butler already stood waiting with his coat and hat.
She was watching him with a hesitant and hopeful look that tore at his frozen heart.
“Quinn, could you not come a few days sooner?” Her voice was soft and a little husky with emotions she was valiantly trying to bury.
It would be so much easier for them both if she hadn’t fallen in love with him…but she had. He could see it shining from the depths of her too-blue eyes.
“Perhaps,” he answered. “But do not depend on it. I’ve been away from Forres too long and…” He let the butler help him into his coat and then he settled his hat upon his head. A motorcar was waiting to take him back to Hampton House, where he would retrieve Blair and Mrs. Finch and travel to the train station.
“Quinn.” Rowena’s whisper was a gentle plea he could not ignore. Without a care to the butler standing only a few feet away, Quinn cupped Rowena’s face with one hand and captured her lips. He intended the kiss to be sweet and chaste…but as always, Rowena’s taste exploded upon his tongue and robbed him of his good sense. The kiss turned hungry between them, nearly burning through him like an out-of-control fire. Damn, the woman was nigh impossible to resist.
Only after a delicate cough from the butler did he finally break away from Rowena. Her lips were a little swollen from his kiss and she was smiling again. That was what he wanted. Only smiles. Brushing his thumb over her lips, he whispered a murmured goodbye and fled, in the most gentlemanly fashion, to the waiting motorcar.
Time away is what I need. Time enough to remember that my own wants and needs must come second. This is to be a marriage of convenience, not of love.
***
Rowena fingered the fine lace of her wedding gown as she waited for her grand entrance into the chapel in the small parish of Hampton. Had it only been two months since she had agreed to marry Quinn? So much had happened between then and now. She’d watched her sister marry Mr. Hadley and leave for his estate in the Cotswolds. The only thing that had eased the ache of knowing she and Milly were facing separate lives was the fact that she had a new family now, one that would be hers forever.
“Rowena, love, are you truly ready for this?” Her father’s blue eyes were dark with emotions he usually hid. A glint of tears was there, too, and seeing that made her own eyes burn.
“I’m ready, Papa. I love him. I did not know I could fall so fast, nor so hard, but I have.” She blinked away tears. “He needs me. I have to save him.” It was so hard to tell her father what lay in her heart. There was a wild jumble of emotions that made little sense to her. She only knew that loving Quinn was her destiny and that she had to heal that dark, bruised, and broken part of his soul he was determined to hide from her.
Her father smiled sadly. “Always my brave little child, aren’t you?” He pressed a kiss to her temple and then held out his arm. “The music is playing. I believe it’s time.”
The doors opened in front of them and she was met with crowded rows of pews on both sides. Friends and family were peering back at her with smiles as she began to walk forward. A cold breeze from outside followed her along the middle aisle, stirring the red rose petals covering the aisle to the altar. They looked like red blood, and Rowena had the strangest sense that it was somehow an omen of her future.
I’m not afraid.
She raised her eyes from the fallen petals to the altar. Quinn stood at the front of the church. He wore a lovely red tartan kilt and a dress coat. It was the first time she’d really seen his legs, the muscled calves a sign of the strength he’d also hidden. He waited for her now, like a Celtic warrior of old, to claim her as his bride. Rowena’s steps quickened but her father gently and firmly made her keep a reasonable pace when she would have sprinted straight to Quinn.
When she finally reached her fiancé, she offered him a smile. The priest stood between them, speaking the words of the ceremony. She had to focus on her breathing as they exchanged vows and Quinn placed a gold band on her finger. At that simple, yet so crucial touch, her skin tingled with a muted warmth, like long hours spent drowsy and half awake beneath a pile of woolen blankets when she slept in. It was a happy sensation, one that comforted her beyond measure. Quinn murmured his vows, his silver eyes sharp on her face as he focused entirely on her.
And then he was kissing her. She felt rooted to the ground, yet floating at the same time. It was a delicate kiss, as though she were brushing her lips against the downy feathers of one of her mother’s fans. The memory filled her with a bittersweet ache as she kissed Quinn. He was her husband now, and she would make new memories in her new home.
“Are you all right?” Quinn’s whisper ran over her skin like silk. He wrapped one strong arm around her waist and held her close.
“Yes, thank you.” She sniffed and blinked, forcing a smile upon her lips. “I just realized I will miss my home.”
The gray of Quinn’s eyes softened, like the undercoat of a mourning dove. “You will make Forres your home now. Whatever you wish to do, I can arrange. I want you to be happy, Wife.” He gave her waist a soft pat and he smiled that winning grin that assured her she would have a chance to make him happy too.
As the priest pronounced them married, they descended the steps and walked down the aisle arm in arm. There had been a wedding breakfast before the ceremony, a little unusual, but Quinn had wished to leave almost immediately. He’d returned to England with his own car just in time for the wedding, making the long journey alone. Together, they would drive all day to reach Edinburgh by night, where they would stay at an inn before completing the journey to Forres.
Rowena and Quinn climbed into the carriage, which took them from the church to Pepperwirth Vale; there they would change into their travel clothes. Milly and Owen were among the first to greet them upon returning from the church. At the sight of her, Rowena ran toward her, her throat tight.
“Milly!” she gasped, hugging her sister, uncaring of the delicate fabric of her wedding gown. All of a sudden, a sob tore through her throat and she buried her face in Milly’s neck.
“There, there, Rowena, I’m here.” Milly ushered her inside to a parlor where they could be alone to talk. The men did not follow them and Rowena sagged in relief. She didn’t want Quinn to see her like this.
“Tears on your wedding day? Come now, Rowena, dear. What’s the matter?” her sister teased, and held out a handkerchief.
“Oh, Milly. I shouldn’t be so silly, but I can’t seem to…” Rowena dabbed at her eyes with the cloth and sighed as she collapsed into the nearest armchair.
“Owen says Forres is a good fellow. Is that not the case?” Her sister knelt on the floor beside her, peering at her intensely.
“It isn’t that. I am afraid to leave home. Did you feel that way?”
