Kilts Ahoy! Page 10

  Marshall cared for her. They had a connection, an alchemy that her strong feelings assured her would last a lifetime, no matter they could never marry.

  Their love would have to be chaste, like the courtly love the troubadours sang of long ago, something to take to her heart and cherish—an inner sanctuary she could retreat to when life with Elgin threatened to drive her to despair.

  She only hoped she could be strong enough to live in the same household as a man she desired but couldn’t have. She might go mad with wanting.

  As she neared the stone bridge, she looked over her shoulder, but Marshall was no longer atop the battlements. “Perhaps, he’ll be there again on the morrow,” she mused to her faithful dog.

  After settling Geal with the ostler, she regained her chamber, and summoned Katie. “I suppose I’ll soon need a wedding gown,” she told her maid. “Fetch Janie and we’ll get started.”

  “A lass ought to be excited about her wedding gown,” she said aloud after Katie left. “But, if I think what Marshall would like if he was my bridegroom, ’twill inspire me to enjoy it.”

  As she waited, doubt crept into her soul. These were sinful thoughts. She longed once more for another female to whom she might confide her confused feelings. She snorted when it occurred to her that the only other female of equal rank for miles around was Marshall’s Aunty Moira. As if…

  In their brief acquaintance, the woman had struck her as odd. In any case, she could hardly confess her sinful longing for Marshall to his aunt, who was also Elgin’s aunt. Her first loyalty would be to her laird.

  It was hopeless. “I’ll just have to sort out my feelings and decide on the right course of action,” she promised Bo.

  For All the Tea in China

  Marshall spent most of the following morning working on the clan journal. At least, that was his intention. However, he sat with quill in hand for over an hour thinking about his early morning ascent to the battlements. Teagan had not only appeared—she’d returned his wave again.

  It was wrong, even sinful perhaps, but he admitted inwardly he’d be up on those battlements every morning, waving, come what may.

  Knowing Teagan cared for him somehow made an intolerable situation more bearable. They shared this one small, secret gesture—a brief linking of hearts, though they could never give voice to their feelings.

  Aunty Moira’s unexpected arrival in the library jolted him out of his daydream.

  “I see ye’re working on the journal,” she stated flatly.

  “Aye. I’m woefully behind. Today, I intend to record the details of our last voyage to Scandinavia, and the cursed wreck.”

  She eyed the ledger. “Ye havena even started though ye’ve been here an hour or more. Preoccupied, are ye?”

  “Aye. I’m concerned about Elgin and the voyage.” It wasn’t an outright lie. By now, the MacCrays no doubt had the measure of his brother’s maritime skills.

  Exasperated, he dipped the quill and scratched out a sentence or two while his aunty perused the shelves. He got the feeling there was more to come, but she was often unpredictable.

  “Romeo and Juliet,” she suddenly exclaimed, pulling the leather-bound copy from the shelf.

  “Aye,” he replied. “I’ve got several of Shakespeare’s plays.”

  She clutched the book to her bosom. “But this one is such a beautiful romance.”

  Marshall opened his mouth to reply that, while Romeo and Juliet loved each other, the play had a tragic ending.

  Moira, however, launched into a diatribe about Mercutio being too reckless and flamboyant and how wonderful it would be to travel to Verona and actually see the balcony where Romeo had wooed Juliet.

  “’Tisna history, Aunty,” he said, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut when she gaped at him, eyes narrowed. “Shakespeare made up the story.”

  “Pah,” she finally exclaimed, tossing the book onto the desk. “What can ye expect from a Sassenach? What do they ken about feuds anyway?”

  Unable to think of a sane reply, and hoping his and Teagan’s story wouldn’t end in tragedy, Marshall put the book back on the shelf.

  “Dinna fash,” Moira suddenly said. “The MacCray lads will make sure they all return safely. Will ye nay record yer brother’s betrothal?”

  The puzzling observation and the question tightened the knot in his gut. “Of course. On the morrow, probably.”

  There was another long pause before she remarked, “I expect ’twill be difficult.”

  A chill stole across his nape. Moira had spent so little time with Teagan, it wasn’t possible she’d guessed. Yet, she seemed to know things about the MacCrays she had no way of knowing. “Why do ye say that?”

  She shrugged, but there was a peculiar glint in her eyes. “Nay reason. She’s a lovely lass. Elgin’s a lucky mon.”

  “Aye,” he sighed, feigning a desire to concentrate on his writing.

  A whiff of camphor alerted him to her presence directly in front of his desk. He’d never understood why she favored such a pungent scent. She claimed it prevented moths from infesting her armoire and was considered by the Chinese to be dragon’s brain perfume, whatever that meant. It reminded Marshall too much of corpses being prepared for burial.

  “What about ye?” she asked. “We need to find a bonny wife who can give ye a boatload of bairns. Does Elgin’s betrothed have sisters?”

  Jaw clenched, Marshall willed away the image of a rosy-cheeked Teagan round with his babe. “Nay, seven brothers.”

  “Hmm,” she replied. “One of them the braw laddie who came with her? Her laird?”

  “Aye,” he replied, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. “Beathan.”

  “He didna seem too pleased with Elgin, yet the marriage is still going ahead.”

  Marshall took a deep breath. To characterize Beathan as nay too pleased with the results of Moira’s haircutting skills was an understatement. “Teagan considers it her duty to honor the promise.”

  “Hmm. Noble,” she said dreamily, hands clasped in prayer, eyes raised to heaven. Then she cackled, “But daft. I wouldna marry Elgin for all the tea in China, though I dinna actually like tea, except maybe with a scone now and again. And three spoons of sugar.”

  Marshall gritted his teeth. Moira had clearly gone off on another one of her ramblings. “Aye, weel, if ye’ll excuse me, Aunty, I’m nay overly fond of this task…”

  She laughed. “Just like yer da. He hated keeping the log. I expect there’s a great deal missing from his records. Ye should take a gander.”

  “Maybe I will,” he conceded. “Now…”

  “I ken. I’m interrupting,” she replied, heading for the door. “I’ll warrant yon Beathan MacCray has already recorded the alliance in his clan’s log. He’ll be meticulous about the responsibility…if he’s aught like his father. Goodbye, Romeo. Romeo, oh, Romeo, wherefore art thou…”

  She flounced out, leaving him to wonder what on earth she was getting at. And how would she know anything about Teagan’s sire?

  *

  For the second day in a row, Teagan hemmed and hawed about the fabric for her wedding gown. She fingered the swatches of silks, wools, calicos, muslins and cottons Janie Tailor had spread out on the bed, but couldn’t settle on a particular one.

  Banished to the hallway by Janie, Bo whimpered and scratched at the door.

  “I like the Bengali muslin,” Katie said.

  Teagan frowned. “Too plain, though I suppose…”

  “In my experience,” Janie interrupted, folding beefy arms across copious breasts, “most lasses choose silk for a wedding.”

  “I suppose ye’re right,” Teagan conceded, sensing the seamstress’ growing impatience with her dithering. After all, the woman had been sewing clothing for Clan MacCray since before Teagan’s birth.

  “Yer mam’s gown was silk,” Janie suddenly declared.

  Teagan was surprised. She’d never considered what her darling mother might have worn to her wedding. “Did ye ma
ke it for her?”

  “Nay. Brought it with her. Made by a seamstress of her clan. But I ne’er forgot it. ’Twas lovely.”

  The fog lifted. Just because she was marrying the wrong man didn’t mean she shouldn’t look her best on her wedding day. “Can ye fashion something similar for me?”

  A grin split Janie’s wrinkled red face. “Aye. Now we’re talkin’. ’Twill suit yer figure perfectly. What color?”

  Teagan went back to the bed, wishing she knew Marshall’s favorite color. “Er…”

  “Green it is,” Janie declared, gathering up the swatches. “Now, let’s get yer measurements.”

  Trying not to laugh as the seamstress set about her task, Teagan caught Katie’s eye. Her maid was also struggling to suppress a smile. Neither of them had the courage to challenge Janie’s decision.

  After the seamstress had bustled off with her wares, Teagan took Bo to the dining hall, ignoring the hurt in the dog’s woeful eyes. The luncheon proved to be an off-kilter affair with so many members of her family away. Seth, Finlay and Cooper seemed disinclined to talk, probably as concerned as she about their absent brothers.

  As she finished the last of her sweet, she realized she hadn’t read the passage Master Halkirk had assigned. The book might still be atop the cliff as far as she recalled.

  “Make my apologies to my tutor,” she told Katie. “Tell him…er…I’m unweel.”

  After her maid left, the empty afternoon stretched before her like a yawning chasm. “I’ve a mind to ride into Wick,” she told Seth. “Would ye like to escort me?

  *

  Marshall read over his entry about the latest voyage to Scandinavia. Normally, the details of events as reported to him by his captains came easily, but he stared in horror at the poorly written passage. And the ink blots! He was of a mind to tear out the pages and begin again, but his fingertips were covered in ink and a missing page would be obvious. “Looks like a bairn’s scrawl,” he muttered, annoyed with himself. “How can a mon who studied at university pen such drivel?”

  He decided to put off writing about the wreck until the next day. Perhaps by then, he’d have rid himself of his preoccupation with Teagan.

  Realizing it was past time for the midday meal, he made his way to the dining hall. It seemed eerily quiet. Elgin tended to eat like a pig and drink too much, but at least he was another person at the head table. Aunty Moira had apparently been and gone. He finished his meal, realizing five minutes later he had no idea what he’d eaten.

  Tired of his torpor, he stood abruptly. “What ye need,” he declared to the near-empty hall, “is fresh air, and mayhap a wee jaunt around Wick Bay.”

  Chance Encounter

  Teagan and Seth paused on the crest of the hill overlooking Wick. “What are we waiting for?” she asked when he scanned the surrounding countryside.

  “Somebody’s coming,” he replied, nodding in the direction of Castle Robson, “Marshall, if I’m nay mistaken.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she peered into the distance, trying to calm the pulse throbbing in her ears. “How can ye tell from this far away?” she asked, though she knew without a doubt the oncoming rider was Marshall. There was no mistaking the broad shoulders, the flowing hair and the easy way he sat a horse. Bo ran off in his direction. “Ye ken him too,” she murmured.

  Seth raised his hand. “We’ll wait.”

  She should simply carry on alone down the hill, but a thrill of anticipation spiraled through her when Marshall returned Seth’s wave and urged his horse to a trot. Bo nipped playfully at his mount’s heels.

  Her brother had already divined her feelings for Marshall, so there was no point hiding her delight when he caught up to them. The heat in her face must be obvious to Seth, though he couldn’t be aware of the wanton yearnings blossoming in very intimate parts of her body. She wondered if it would always be thus every time she set eyes on Marshall Robson. “Good morrow,” she gushed, unable to conceal her joy at the unexpected meeting.

  “Lady Teagan, Seth,” he acknowledged with a broad smile.

  Her brother leaned over to proffer a hand. “Good to see ye,” he said. “Come to check on yer birlinn, have ye?”

  Marshall accepted the gesture. “Aye. ’Tis incumbent on me as our laird’s second-in-command.” He held up ink-stained fingers. “And I needed the air after a morning spent updating the clan’s log.”

  “A messy scribe, are ye?” she teased.

  Grinning, he shook his head. “Normally, nay. But, today, I couldna concentrate.”

  Her heart leaped. Could it be he’d been as preoccupied with her as she was with him? “The morning dragged for me too,” she replied, looking into his eyes so he couldn’t mistake her meaning. “By the way, what’s yer favorite color?”

  *

  Marshall had momentarily considered turning back when he caught sight of Seth and Teagan on the track, and it would have been the prudent thing to do.

  However, he and Teagan would have to learn to live under the same roof. He sensed Seth wouldn’t censure their friendship. Why not spend an enjoyable afternoon messing about in boats?

  “Green,” he replied after some thought. “I suppose I’ve always been partial to the color. We live surrounded by grass as thick as velvet, thanks to the rain, and there’s a lot of green in our tartan.”

  Teagan’s broad smile indicated he’d said the right thing, though he couldn’t imagine why she wanted to know his favorite color. “How about ye?”

  “Red,” she answered without hesitation.

  Marshall wasn’t sure what the significance of favorite colors was, but decided to tuck the tidbit of information away just in case.

  As they prepared to dismount on the dock, Seth’s eyes lit up. “Will ye be taking yer birlinn out?” he asked.

  Marshall slid off his horse quickly in order to help Teagan. “If ye like, we can take it out again for a wee while,” he replied, putting his hands on her waist. “Will ye accompany us, Lady Teagan?” he teased as he lifted her down.

  She put her hands on his shoulders and matched his mischievous smile. “Ye ken very weel I will.”

  A pleasant thought occurred to Marshall as they stood face to face once he’d set her on the cobblestones. Elgin would never think to help his wife dismount. Marshall could gently squeeze her waist and feel the light touch of her hands on his shoulders and no one would think anything of it. Just a chivalrous brother assisting his thoughtless laird’s wife.

  “But we canna linger gazing at each other overlong,” she whispered, having obviously read his thoughts. Her words brought home to him the problem with his fantasy.

  However, her tempting lips were so close, he could brush a kiss without Seth even…

  “Come on ye two. Let’s get out on the water,” her brother shouted, climbing aboard Marshall’s birlinn.

  “Duty calls,” he quipped, reluctantly taking his hands from her waist.

  *

  Teagan abruptly closed her mouth. She’d opened her lips slightly in anticipation of Marshall’s kiss. Anxious as she was for another opportunity to learn about sailing, a stolen kiss would have made an unexpectedly exciting afternoon perfect. She’d never kissed a man, but Marshall’s lips looked very tempting.

  She inhaled deeply when he removed his warm hands from her waist. “This is going to be difficult,” she said softly.

  “Aye, lass, it is,” he replied wistfully, taking her by the hand. “Come on. Seth’s impatient.”

  She resisted the pull. “Before we go, I want to tell ye something. My brothers think I’m daft because I want to learn to be a sailor, but I ken ye understand.”

  His blue eyes held no censure, only amusement and adventure. “Then I’m the mon to teach ye, Lady Teagan MacCray.”

  Elated, she followed him to the birlinn and accepted his help to climb aboard. They laughed together when Bo leaped after them.

  Marshall had the sea in his blood. She couldn’t ask for a better teacher. He was also a handsome and desira
ble man who’d probably kissed many lasses. She could learn a lot about kissing from him.

  Afternoon Delight

  Marshall felt complete when he was in command of a boat; the sea was where he belonged. He relished the always unpredictable challenges of the wind and waves. He was a man in his element.

  But, he’d never really thought of sailing as fun. Enjoyable, aye; fulfilling, definitely. Watching Teagan eagerly carry out his instructions sparked an excitement he hadn’t felt since he was a bairn.

  Seth’s broad smile indicated he was clearly proud of his sister’s quick mastery of the tasks. Over the noise of the wind toying with the sail, he shouted, “’Twould be easier if ye wore men’s clothing.”

  Marshall’s mind immediately filled with images of Teagan’s shapely bottom in trews, a crisp white shirt—one of his perhaps—clinging to her virgin’s breasts. “Aye,” he growled wholeheartedly.

  “Good idea,” Teagan exclaimed, tossing her long hair off her face with a deep laugh that turned Marshall’s pleasant arousal to granite.

  He might have known the feisty lass would rise to the challenge.

  They spent a good hour on the water, sailing beneath Castle MacCray then coming about to look up at Castle Robson. Little had Marshall known the woman who would capture his heart lived just a stone’s throw away from where he’d spent his entire life. He swallowed the bitter irony that he was the one who’d delivered her into Elgin’s hands.

  “We should come out every afternoon,” he suggested as they docked, painfully aware she would never have the chance to sail with him again once she married his brother.

  The prospect was deeply disturbing.

  “Aye,” Seth echoed. “Then ye’ll be a proper sailor when Beathan gets home.”

  She smiled, but the implications of Beathan’s return darkened her bright eyes.

  *

  The afternoon had been an exhilarating experience, and Teagan preferred not to dwell on the reality that Beathan’s return meant marriage to Elgin would soon follow.