Page 19 of The Lady in Pearls
“No. She’s English.”
Both Cameron and McKenzie stared at him.
“You’re bringing a Sassenach to live here? With you?” Cameron started laughing again.
“There’s a bit of a problem with her residency,” McKenzie replied more seriously, “and the banns…”
“Aye, I figured as much.” Lachlan glanced around the church, noting some of the wooden rafters were a bit fractured. “And what of your church? Perhaps a bit of timber could find its way here?”
McKenzie glanced up at the same rotted timbers. “I suppose the banns can be read today three times and…well, we could have the church ready for a ceremony tomorrow at nine in the morning. Does that suit you, my lord?”
“Aye, that does.” Lachlan glanced once more at the stained-glass windows and the kaleidoscope of pale colors cast over the wooden pews.
“And this is to be a private affair?” John asked.
Lachlan finally faced the minister again, expecting more questions. “Yes. Cameron and Eliza will witness.”
“Very well. Is that all you need, my lord?”
“Yes, that is all.” He and Cameron bid the minister farewell and then they exited the church.
“Cameron, why don’t you bring Eliza up to Huntley Castle for a few days? Mother thinks it would cheer Daphne.” He wasn’t too keen on doing anything that would cheer his future wife, but it would cheer him, which was something he desperately needed. The anger he’d clung to for so long was waning and he was filled with an empty loneliness that he couldn’t seem to escape. Having Cameron around for a few days would remind him of the happy man he’d once been, before Willian’s death. He wanted Daphne to see him as he used to be, the man who might have fallen in love with her under different circumstances.
“I’m sure Eliza would be thrilled, and it will give me a chance to meet this woman and see if I can figure out why she has you twisted up in knots.”
“I’m not twisted up in knots.”
“So you say. But never in my life have I seen you so boorish. Growling like a wounded bear one minute and snapping your jaws like a wolf the next.”
“McLeod…” he warned, and inwardly cursed at how the name escaped his lips in a clear growl.
“Ack, now I’ve done it. You’re calling me McLeod.” Cameron feigned distress as they reached their mounts, tied up outside the church yard.
“Be there tonight for dinner,” Lachlan said as he and Cameron climbed into their saddles. His horse shifted and snorted. With a light smack on the gelding’s neck, Lachlan gripped his reins and readied to leave.
“Tonight, it is.” Cameron nodded to him and rode off, his home being only a few miles away.
Lachlan began the quick journey back home, wishing the distance was greater. He wasn’t yet ready to face Daphne. Not after last night. He had groped her like a randy lad and she had purred like a cat in response, something he hadn’t expected. The startled look of pleasure in her eyes told him she had never climaxed before. She wasn’t simply a virgin, she was completely uneducated in the ways of pleasure. He tried to bury the heavy guilt he felt, knowing he would enjoy giving those lessons.
I shouldn’t enjoy her, not anything about her, yet I do. It felt like a betrayal of William’s memory.
For the next half hour, he was lost in thoughts of Daphne as he rode home.
As he approached the castle’s entrance, he spotted a feminine figure kneeling among the rose bushes. There were no buds to admire, though, only frost on the remaining greenery. Intrigued, he rode closer, wondering if one of the maids was out…but then he recognized Daphne.
He took a moment to admire her. She worked a small pair of clippers in her gloved hands to cut a bit of a rosebush, then lifted the stem close to examine it.
“What are you doing?”
“My lord!” She gasped in shock and leapt to her feet before she spun around, her cheeks flushing. “I was retrieving a stem of this rose. I thought I might grow it inside the hothouse I discovered behind the castle.”
“The hothouse? That place hasn’t been tended to in years.” He slid off his horse and patted its flank as he waited for Daphne to join him. She wasn’t wearing a cloak, only a thin shawl, yet she seemed unbothered by the chill.
“Where’s your cloak?” he asked sharply.
Daphne’s face was still red. “I don’t have one.”
“But the modiste came today to bring you clothes.” He had seen to that personally before he’d ridden off to seek out Cameron.
