I said nothing, the flicker of panic morphing into a sick feeling in my stomach. So much sacrifice, she had said. She had asked me if I wished to proceed with the match, but I was beginning to suspect it was her own sacrifices which were too dear. “Do you wish for the marriage to proceed?”

  She met my gaze, her eyes troubled, her silence tying knots of anxiousness in my stomach. My mind raced, questions buzzing about what I would do if the match dissolved right here in the study before my very eyes. How would I meet Lochlarren’s financial obligations?

  “I have no desire for you to feel coerced into marriage with me.” I studied Juliana, this woman I had so despised upon first meeting but for whom I now felt an unexpectedly strong affection and attraction. The loss of this match would not be solely financial.

  “I feel no coercion.” She said it slowly, though whether to ensure I believed her or because she was not entirely certain of her words, I couldn’t tell. While I wanted to marry her—nay, needed to—I had no desire for an unwilling bride. This was a marriage of convenience, but I was no brute. If she truly didn’t wish to be married, I would find a way to bring Lochlarren about. I would have to.

  I needed to make my wishes clear while ensuring her own were not ignored.

  I stepped toward her, and her eyes watched my every move. I reached for her hand, which was clasped with the other in front of her. She did not resist the gesture, allowing me to take it. She wore no gloves, having just breakfasted, and the warmth of her skin on mine sent a wave of courage through me.

  “I wish for the marriage to proceed,” I said clearly. “But if you have any hesitation, Juliana, now is certainly the time to make it known.”

  She looked down at the very moment I wished most to see her face. The silence stretched until I felt as though I might snap from the tension. Her thumb gently grazed the palm of my hand, taking my breath.

  Just as soon as it had happened, though, it was over. Perhaps I had imagined it.

  “I, too, wish for the marriage to proceed.” The words were sure, and she looked up, her gaze clear and resolute.

  A wave of relief washed over me, but I searched her eyes for a moment, looking for any sign that she was wavering.

  I found none, so I nodded. “Good. We had better dress, then.”

  The intimacy of the wedding ceremony stood in sharp contrast to last night’s celebrations. Juliana’s father and cousin were there, as were my own brothers, and, of course, the vicar.

  Every shuffling of feet, every whisper amongst the scant guests, echoed in the halls of the church as I stood near the vicar, watching Mr. Godfrey escort Juliana toward me. Her dress, a shimmering silver trimmed with Brussels lace, brushed the comparatively dull stone floor.

  Every step brought her closer to being my wife. A lace veil, adorned with white flowers, was fastened in her hair, falling all the way to her waist. I yearned to see into her mind and know her thoughts now that the moment had arrived.

  She and her father reached the base of the dais, and he kissed her on the cheek before sharing an intimate and significant look. He shook hands with me, then took his seat in the pew beside Miss Lowe. She was looking better than when I had last seen her, but her eyes were red and glassy.

  The vicar began to read from The Book of Common Prayer, outlining the varied purposes of marriage. Juliana’s cheeks pinked at the mention of the procreation of children, and my own thoughts strayed to the events that would follow the ceremony—to this evening.

  Anticipation and nerves flooded me. It was curiosity as much as anything—a desire to examine the flickers and flashes of feeling I had experienced for Juliana, to see whether there was enough kindling there to produce something more. The prospect of the potential flame both excited and frightened me. It was territory I had promised myself not to enter. But I wanted to. Did Juliana?

  As no one produced any objection to the marriage, the ceremony continued, and the vicar caused us to join right hands. In the damp of the kirk, Juliana’s hand felt cold, and I pressed it between the two of mine for a moment, hoping to share some of my own warmth.

  She smiled gratefully as the vicar said the words for me to repeat. “I, Alexander Daniel MacLeod Duncan, take thee, Juliana Godfrey, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

  To have and to hold. To love and to cherish. Those were not the words of a marriage of convenience, and yet I was charged to repeat them, to make them my vows. Looking at Juliana, I couldn’t find it in myself to regret it.

  Juliana repeated the vows given to her, and the minister charged me to produce the ring. I took it from the inner pocket of my tailcoat and set it on the book the minister held. It was a plain band of silver, with our initials and the day’s date engraved inside. The minister returned the ring and spoke the words for me to repeat as I slid the ring onto Juliana’s fourth finger.

  “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship.” My body infused with heat, and Juliana’s lashes fluttered as she glanced quickly away. I wanted to set her at her ease, so I added my own emphasis to the next words. “And with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” Her gaze flitted to mine, and I smiled. She was the one endowing me with worldly goods, and though the minister cleared his throat disapprovingly at my emphasis, I didn’t regret it a jot. Her smile and the way her shoulders relaxed was well worth it.

  I hoped I would be able to elicit such reactions from her as time went on, that she would know she had nothing to fear from me. I would respect her wishes, whatever they were, whatever I personally felt.

  There was silence at the end of the ceremony, and the vicar’s eyes shifted to the congregation, fixing somewhere in particular. His lips pressed together, an almost annoyed expression passing over his face. I followed the path of his gaze and found Iain and Blair nodding at the vicar in encouragement.

  I frowned, wondering what they were up to.

  The vicar sighed. “You may kiss your bride.”

  Ah. So, that was the game. My brothers had convinced the vicar to add that last bit. My heart thudded as the pastor waited along with the guests. Iain grinned and raised a provoking brow.

  Juliana watched me intently, her brown eyes wide and earnest. There was no fear there. Or perhaps I was merely seeing what I wished to see—not that my preferred circumstances for our first kiss would have been with an audience.

  But there would be time for more later. I hoped.

  I questioned her with my eyes, and she gave the slightest of nods.

  Her hand still in mine, I stepped toward her. Who knew that a brief kiss in the damp church, two feet away from the somber vicar, could set my heart knocking as it now was?

  I lowered my head toward hers and closed my eyes, feeling her warmth before my lips found hers. They were soft and inviting, and her hand grasped mine tightly—almost drawing me closer, I thought—before she pulled away and the vicar finished the ceremony.

  I was a married man. I had a wife, sitting beside me at the dining table amongst my family—our family—and she was somehow more beautiful now than before the ceremony.

  I didn’t know how to feel. Lochlarren was effectively saved. Barring some atrocious management on my part, the estate and title would pass on to my heir in a better state than they had been in for several generations.

  My heir. The two words sat strangely in my mind, carrying a new weight. My heir would be as much Juliana as me. Juliana would not only be my wife but the mother of my children. Somehow, amidst all the turmoil of the past weeks—Father’s death, the discovery of the true state of his debts, and welcoming Juliana to the castle—I had never truly considered that.

  As she leaned over to speak to Blair, I pictured her with a babe in her arms, throwing rocks into the loch while holding the hand of a toddler, playing at hide and seek on the castle grounds.

  The images stirred something deep within me.

  Mr. Godfrey pushed his chair out from the table. “What a joyous day this has been! And how reluctant I am to leave the celebrations so prematurely.” He grimaced apologetically at his daughter, who rose to say goodbye.

  Watching them take farewell of one another inspired me with an even greater determination to ensure Juliana’s happiness and comfort. She had come to Lochlarren a week and a half ago—a strange place in a new country with unfamiliar faces—and was expected to make it her home, to say goodbye to her father and settle in with her new family. My conscience pinched with regret at how difficult I had made her arrival.

  Of course, she had been unbearable then, but if I had taken a moment to think on her situation, perhaps I would have responded differently, and then she would have responded differently.

  Well, there was no changing the past. The present and future were what remained to be determined. I resolved to do whatever was in my power to ensure they were happy for her.

  I rose to shake hands with my father-in-law.

  “It was kind of you to hold an early dinner on my account, Lismore,” he said, gripping my hand firmly.

  “It was no trouble at all,” I replied. “I hope you will not stay away too long.”

  “I shall return before you are ready for me, no doubt. I will just take my leave of Augusta and be on my way.” Miss Lowe had returned to her room amidst a chorus of sneezing and sniffling shortly after the ceremony.

  “I shall accompany you,” Juliana said, excusing herself from the table.

  Once Juliana returned from seeing her father off, the only ones remaining at the table were my brothers and me.

  Iain and Blair had both been imbibing freely of the whisky I had ordered to be brought up from the cellar, making them particularly talkative and easily diverted. Magnus, too, had been drinking, but its effect was to make him even more somber than usual.

  I pulled out Juliana’s chair when she returned. She looked at her plate for a moment, as though deciding whether she wished to finish the food there. A glance around the table told her the rest of us had finished our meals.

  “I shall leave you to your port,” she said with a smile.

  “There is no need to hurry yourself,” I replied. “Eat your fill. Unless you are put off by Iain and Blair, in which case, I cannot blame you for wishing to retire. Indeed, I am tempted to join you.”

  “No, no,” Iain said, his words slurring slightly. “You shan’t avoid us. This is your wedding day. There are traditions to be observed!” He raised his glass, and the liquid inside threatened to come out.

  “Traditions,” Blair agreed, tapping his glass against Magnus’s on the table.

  “Oh,” Juliana said, lowering herself back into her chair. “What traditions?”

  Blair and Iain shared an impish glance, while Juliana’s brows drew together.

  “Enough,” I said, sensing danger. “I think a glass of port the last thing either of you need, so perhaps you should excuse yourselves.”

  “Sandy,” Juliana said softly to me, “if there are traditions that should be observed, I would not wish to deprive you of that.”

  Blair snorted with laughter.

  “Thank you,” I said, pointedly ignoring my brothers. “But this particular tradition is not one which needs to be observed.”

  “What is it?”

  “The bedding,” Iain said in an overloud voice. “We accompany you to your bedchamber and wait outside to ensure things are. . .”

  “Official,” Blair offers, raising his glass before the two of them burst into laughter.

  Juliana blanched, and I nearly throttled my brothers on the spot.

  Instead, I clenched my teeth and directed my attention to my wife. “As I said, it is a not a tradition which needs to be observed, neither has it been for some time.”

  She glanced at my brothers, who were laughing at something together, then returned her gaze to me. Her cheeks, which had gone white, were now full of color. “Thank you. I very much appreciate that. I had been thinking they meant a tradition like clan feuding practice.”

  I chuckled, though my mind whirred with questions about what her expectations and hopes were for this evening. “I doubt that particular tradition was ever observed.”

  “A new tradition for future generations, then,” she responded, her coloring evening out.

  “I will take any excuse to teach those two a lesson,” I said, casting a long-suffering eye toward my brothers, who were conversing in what they no doubt assumed were whispers.

  “You are fortunate to have them.” She looked at them with indulgent affection.

  “Wait until you have known them as long as I have. You may see them differently in twenty years.”

  She didn’t respond immediately. “I think I should check on Augusta. I shall see you. . . later,” she said, not meeting my eye.

  I nodded, cursing myself for my comment. Twenty years must seem like an eternity to her just now. I needed to tread carefully as we began our married life together, or I would overwhelm her. Slow and steady was the way forward.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  JULIANA

  I stayed with Augusta far longer than needed. It wasn’t that I was dreading what was to come. I was simply nervous. Nervously eager.

  “Ye’re still here, my lady?” Dolly said as she came through the door with a bowl of gruel for Augusta.

  “She is keeping me company,” Augusta said from her place lying in the bed. Her eyelids drooped over red, watery eyes. Every few minutes a tear would slip down toward her ear, unsolicited but unstoppable. She claimed she was well enough, but she looked miserable.

  Dolly brought the tray over and set it on the bedside table. Then, both of us assisted Augusta to a position from which she could more easily eat.

  “She is kindness itself,” Dolly agreed, setting the tray on her lap. “And I hope this gruel will bring a bit of relief. But a lady mustna make her husband wait on his weddin’ night.”

  I tried to maintain an appearance of nonchalance, busying myself with scooping some gruel onto the spoon and praying my cheeks were not betraying me. As they could have warmed the great hall, however, I doubted my success.

  “That is true,” Augusta said. “I keep forgetting you are a married woman now, Juliana. I feel a wretch for being so absent.”

  “It is because you feel wretchedly that you need to rest, cousin,” I said. “I will stay to feed you if you wish.”

  “It is not necessary,” she replied, taking the spoon from me. “I am not so ill as that.”

  “In that case,” Dolly said, “perhaps ye’ll excuse me ta tend ta Lady Lismore while ye eat?”

  I frowned for a moment until realization dawned. She was speaking of me. I was Lady Lismore now. A countess. And yet I felt no different than I had this morning when I was nothing but plain Miss Godfrey.

  Augusta nodded, and I hesitated for a moment before rising, unsure whether I wished to delay longer or hurry. How could one feel such contrary emotions at the same time?

  I led the way from the room, Dolly following closely behind me.

  “Where are ye goin’, my lady?”

  I stopped, frowning. “To change in my bedchamber.”

  She smiled slightly. “But ‘tis yer bedchamber no longer. I moved yer things over this mornin’ ta the one ye share with his lordship.”

  “Oh.”

  Her face fell. “Did I do wrong, my lady?”

  “No. You did no wrong.” I paused, looking toward the door that led to Sandy’s bedchamber. Our bedchamber.

  I swallowed. “Is he there already?”

  “Nay, my lady. He told me when I saw him below that he’d be a quarter of an hour or so seeing to correspondence.”

  A quarter of an hour. Was that enough time to prepare myself for what was to come? It would have to be. The fact that he was seeing to correspondence on the night of his wedding was . . . well, it was either a testament to how busy he was or evidence that he was not overly eager for what came next. He had not seemed any keener than I to observe the bedding tradition Iain and Blair had mentioned.

  Would tonight be merely another duty for him?

  Dolly assisted me out of my dress, undoing my stays and pulling the stockings from my feet. I tried to focus on the details of our task rather than letting my mind wander a quarter of an hour ahead or letting my eyes wander to the bed.

  Once I had my wrapper over my shift, Dolly set to my coiffure, undoing the pins and pulling out whatever flowers had held on all day. She was quiet as she brushed through my hair, and my mind revisited the events of the morning. Sandy’s hand holding mine. His fingers slipping the ring over mine. With my body I thee worship. Obey, love, serve, honor. Keep thee only unto him.

  Saying such words had blurred the boundaries more than ever, confusing me about what precisely it meant to be Sandy’s wife. Which wifely duties were expected of me? Was I to serve and honor but not love? He was marrying me for the sake of his estate, but there had been moments, glances, glimmers of more. Or perhaps the words of the ceremony had played tricks upon my mind, making me see things that were not there.

  And yet. . .

  I felt the hope of more as surely as I felt the cold metal of the ring upon my finger.

  Sandy had assured me he did not feel coerced, and I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe he held me in friendly affection at least, that he was not secretly despondent that it was I rather than Nelly standing across from him at the kirk.

  Perhaps, just perhaps, he might come to care for me as he cared for her.

  “There, my lady.” Dolly set the brush down on the dressing table. “Is there anythin’ more I can do for ye?”

  I shook my head, eager to be alone. “I would rather you see to Augusta. Her need is far greater.”

 

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