Page 7 of An English Rose for the Highlander
“We have not had the wedding breakfast nor the celebration. Am I not even to have a moment to say farewell to my family?”
“As I have mentioned before, lass. I daenae have any desire to remain in England for a moment longer than is necessary.” The Laird’s stare was firm and steely, but Rose held her ground, taking a singular step backward, making the man sigh and roll his eyes. “Verra well. But be quick about it.”
Turning, Rose faced her parents, stepping close so that she could hold each of their hands. Peggy stood behind them, giving her a quick glance that silently informed Rose that she would haveeverything in the carriage ready for her. As her lady’s maid stepped away, Rose focused on her family.
“I will write soon. Please be well, and if there is word of anything or should something of great import arise, do not hesitate to send word. I shall do my best to continue to care for you even while I reside in Scotland.”
“We are so proud to have a daughter of such worth, sweet Rose.” Her father patted her hand, smiling with glassy eyes that reflected both joy and sorrow.
“Do be safe, darling. I will look for your letters.” Rose’s mother kissed her cheek, and the couple moved backward, allowing Peggy to gather close and escort Rose to the coach that was waiting on the street just in front of the church.
As much as Rose might have preferred a longer moment with her parents for farewells, it was likely for the best that this was kept short. Knowing them as she did, it was more than reasonable to assume that they would dissolve into an emotional state as their only child was leaving.
So now, Rose simply stepped up into the carriage and took her seat, leaning out the window to wave her goodbye as she was carted away to Scotland.
The roads beyond the city were in much worse condition. Rose was tossed about this way and that as the carriage trundled along the journey north. Worse, every time she lost her balance, stumbling into either the coach wall or her new husband, the Laird smirked, clearly amused by the situation.
“Must you continue to grin like that every time this blasted carriage tosses me?”
With his brows raised, the man turned to her, openly smiling as another jolt on the road made her pop up in her seat and land back down with a yelp.
“If it wasnae so hilarious, I wouldnae need to smile.” He just kept up that damned smirk, and Rose was at the end of her rope. “I suspect ye’re nae very familiar with long journeys on the road.”
“And what of it if I have not? Is it a requirement you failed to mention to Miss Wood that your wife must be as comfortable on a horse as one of your men?” Rose scoffed, reaching down for the mass of her skirts, much greater than usual considering she wore her finest gown, and pulled them up so that she could stuff them into the space next to her on the seat. “I should think it would be quite difficult to find a woman suitable if that were the case.”
“What on earth are ye doing, lass?” Laird MacKay eyed her bundle of fabric, flicking his stare angrily away when it almost landed on her legs.
Yes, two can play that game, now, can’t they?
“I am avoiding the damage to my gown. Every time we shuffle about, it catches on my shoe, and I will not tear the fabric.”
“And here I thought that the English were even more strict than the Scots.” Her husband scoffed, rolling his stare to the large window on the side of the carriage, where his man, Oskar, rode alongside them. “And yet here ye are flashing yer skin like?—”
“I would be quite careful with the word you choose just now, Laird MacKay.” Rose glared at him, refusing to back down or be put on the spot by his comments. “We ride in privacy, and I should think that my husband, of all people, will need to become used to seeing the sight of my feet.”
Oskar snorted outside the coach, clearly able to hear their conversation. Rose leaned down so that she could narrow her eyes at him through the window.
“She’s as stubborn as ye are, me laird.” His laughter filled the air outside the carriage, and Rose could hear Peggy scoffing on the other side as she flanked the carriage on her own horse. “Perhaps we’ve just met the wrong English all this time, and the country is in fact as unyielding as this one.”
Rose’s jaw dropped open, and she was about to launch into another tirade, this one directed at the man-at-arms, but Peggy appeared at the window on the other side, clearing her throat loudly to get Rose’s attention.
“My lady, please. I must say I am terribly shocked that you would even dare to be so openly frustrated. Challenging a man like Laird MacKay. Have you fallen ill?”
She wanted to snap at her, to remind Peggy of her place, but the truth of the matter was that she had no one to blame but herself at present. Rose had grown uncomfortable and annoyed through the long ride, and she had undoubtedly let it get the best of her. Itwasunwise to challenge the Laird, even more so her husband.
Breathe calmly, Rose. This is not how to begin things.
Still, Rose had never felt such strong emotions bubbling through her before. Being around Laird MacKay did something to her that she could not deny or comprehend. It was vexing, utterly dizzying, and apparently, quite the distraction.
After silently scolding herself, she realized they had somehow reached a small village. The carriage pulled along the road that led through the trade route town, coming to a halt in front of a large building in good condition. When she stuck her head out to see where they were, Rose’s stomach dropped.
They were at an inn.
On the night of their wedding.
Oh no.
“Me Lady,” announced Laird MacKay, stepping out of the carriage and turning to offer her his hand.
