The Scottish Lord’s Secret Bride (24 page)

Three ponies looked up from cropping the grass and a youth carrying a pail across the clearing stopped dead and water slopped around his feet. Two male heads popped out of a tent and Tam waved them back.

‘Fraser.’ Morven spoke to him much as Beshlie had spoken to Tam earlier. ‘Let the man have his say.’ She squeezed his shoulder. ‘Then shout if you need to.’

‘Much obliged,’ Tam said as Fraser nodded stiffly.

‘Sorry, Tam, go on.’

‘Ah well, you said the words you both wanted to, aye?’

‘We did,’ Morven said before Fraser could open his mouth. ‘Well I did anyway. I did give myself to Fraser with all of my being.’ Her shoulders lifted slightly. ‘I still do.’

That made things a lot easier. With a light heart Fraser kissed her hand and turned back to Tam. ‘I did as well. I still do. So where does that leave us? Was it a hand fasting, or a wedding?’

‘Or neither?’ Morven added in a soft voice.

Tam cleared his throat. ‘It started off as neither, just a chance for you both to own up to what you wanted. Then when I saw how serious you were it became a hand fasting. Which could have stayed between us. But I realised our Jinty and her man were close by and listening. So I bound you.’

‘Which is as good as saying we are wed?’ Fraser asked. If it was what did it really mean?

‘In Scotland it does. Beyond the border I dinnae ken.’

Morven bit her nail. ‘What do we do now? Half wed sounds strange.’

‘I have an idea,’ Fraser said. ‘Tam, Beshlie, give us a few minutes alone please?’ He stood up and took Morven’s hand as the other two nodded and went inside the caravan.

‘I wonder, love. What do you say that we regularise this? Do it again, knowingly with witnesses. Ask Tam to sign his name to our wedding lines and present them to the minister?’ He had a thought and pressed his lips together. ‘Or would you prefer the kirk? Or the chapel on your brother’s estate?’

She stared at him, her head cocked to one side. ‘You haven’t asked the all important question yet, you know.’ He racked his brain, and then comprehension dawned. ‘Ah.’ Without a thought of what he might look like Fraser went down on one knee. ‘Morven, my love, my life. Will you please do me the honour of being my lawfully wedded wife? Openly, here in front of witnesses? Will you marry me…again?’

He held his breath.

Chapter Thirteen

They couldn’t reach the lodge soon enough, Morven decided as she swatted a bee from her cheek, and Bonny snorted at her attendant swarm of flies. It might not be the hottest of days, but the air had become heavy and oppressive and already clouds of midges swarmed above the hedgerows. Two miles she could cope with. Much further and she might expire.

Fraser undid his jacket and winked. ‘You could go this far.’

Morven shook her head. Her nipples were hard against the linen of her blouse. Why she had no idea, unless just riding so close to Fraser increased her concupiscence. It seemed hardly possible that something so innocuous would arouse her like that, but then nothing made sense at that moment. ‘I’ll cope.’

‘Pity.’ Fraser smiled and essayed a knowing look. ‘I will have to imagine you naked.’

The pictures that conjured up were vivid enough to make her almost part company with Bonny. Morven scrambled for a retort. ‘My name is Morven not Godiva, and this is Scotland not Coventry. Plus I’d hazard a guess it was several degrees warmer there than here.’

Fraser put his head back and laughed. ‘I’m sure it was. Therefore I’ll stop teasing and tell you we turn onto the road just by that gorse bush, and a few hundred yards ahead is Ardfoot kirk. It’s only used once a month for services attended by the crofters up this end of the glen. From the kirk to the lodge is no more than half a mile.’

Morven looked around with interest. They had covered more miles than she’d realised. Verbal sparring had a way of concentrating her mind on other things than distance travelled. She hadn’t been to this area on her previous visit. She and Fraser had plenty of places to go and spend time together, when the rest of his family had left, and what with the games and the sideshows, somehow her visit had concentrated on the castle and its immediate environs. Now after visiting Stirling and the spare house she wished they hadn’t been quite so insular. She’d missed so much. At least, she thought philosophically, she was making up for it now.

‘It’s been a strange day,’ she said as they ambled on. ‘Who would have known?’

‘Do you regret it?’ Fraser asked with a strange note in his voice. ‘Did I pressurise you?’

Why he is nervous?
‘No, not at all,’ Morven hurried to reassure him. It was a side of Fraser she’d never seen before. The sight of him, as vulnerable as she, was strange but endearing. If it were possible, at that moment, she fell in love with him even more. ‘I would change none of it.’ She looked at her hand where one half of the entwined ring rested next to the old copper one. It would mean a green finger and she cared not one jot. ‘I am where I want to be.’

‘Oh horseback with flies and midges bombarding you?’ Fraser asked quizzically. ‘You’re easily pleased.’

Morven laughed. ‘Ha, that bit I
could
do without. The rest is perfect. With you, only you, for ever.’

Fraser smiled. ‘Thank the Lord. Or should that be thank Tam?’

‘Both I reckon. Though, I wonder.’ Morven phrased her query in her mind. ‘Are we truly married now? Everywhere?’

‘In theory. Tam has signed the papers. Over twenty people witnessed us as we plighted our troth. Why, what’s worrying you.’

‘That someone will do something to spoil it all.’

‘Nothing or no one will be allowed to, I promise. Do you want to go into the kirk and repeat our vows to each other?’

Morven considered. ‘No, I want to be alone with you, somewhere private. Where we can…’ she giggled ‘…plight our troth in a more visceral manner. But perhaps one day, we could go into the chapel at Welland and do so?’

‘If that’s what you want, of course we can. And to be bloody honest,’ Fraser said frankly, ‘I’m damned glad you don’t want to take a detour into the kirk. Every time I think of you my buckskins get tighter.’

‘Ah, ooh.’ She couldn’t resist a quick peek in the direction of his groin. His erection was plain to see.

Fraser smiled and his body quaked. ‘Just so. Let me get our saddlebags from behind that bush and then perhaps we better hurry.’ He swung down to the ground, gathered up the bags and fastened them to his saddle. ‘Right.’

He clicked his heels on his mount’s side and Morven followed suit. She was ready to assuage her hunger. All of it.

The horses picked up their pace, as if they also understood their journey was almost over and food and drink awaited them at their destination. Fraser glanced at Morven and indicated a flat, fallow field, a hundred yards or so before the kirk and the couple of crofts nearby. ‘That’s a shortcut. Do you fancy a gallop?’

‘When did I not?’ she asked rhetorically. The thought of an unrestrained wild ride was more than appealing. ‘Do we jump the hedge?’ It was scrubby and sparse and no doubt why there were no livestock in the field. Not anything to really bar their way.

‘Over there.’ Fraser pointed with his crop and urged Misneachail towards the point where only a few rocks and one tiny gorse bush blocked their way. ‘I’ll wait for you on the other side.’

‘Of the fence I hope,’ Morven panted as she kicked her heels on Bonny who responded amiably with a toss of her head, then snorted, broke into a canter, and followed Misneachail to soar over the barrier as if it were three bluebells and a molehill. Fraser grinned, whooped like a schoolboy and encouraged his steed into a faster canter and then a gallop. On Bonny, gallant though the horse was, Morven had no chance of keeping up, but with a shout of joy she let her have her head and followed behind as closely as she could. In one way her position was perfect. As Fraser stood up in the stirrups, and waved his whip in the air, she laughed out loud. From where she was and with his stretched out position she had a beautiful view of his rear, encased in tight breeches and outlined in perfect detail.

He looked back over his shoulder and cheered. His jacket sides flapped, his hair was tousled and he looked happy and carefree. ‘This is what was needed.’

‘Oh yes.’ Morven forgot all the polite things her mama had ever taught her and whistled long and loudly as Fraser did a tight circle and ended up beside her.

Slowly they dropped to a canter and then a trot, until as they reached a five bar gate on the furthest side of the field they were at a walk. Fraser bent down and flicked the latch to allow them through and shut it again. If Morven had been alone she would have needed to dismount and then had a devil of a time to find somewhere to remount.

‘Men do come in handy sometimes,’ she said as Fraser pointed to a pair of gateposts with a wildcat carved in the top of each. Her jaw dropped. This was the entrance to a mere hunting lodge? With gateposts like that, she expected a mansion at the very least. ‘What’s this?’

‘The way to Ardfoot Lodge.’

So she was correct. Now she was eager to see the building and discover if it lived up to expectations. ‘Oh more than sometimes surely,’ she said as they walked their rides between the posts and up a rutted drive. ‘Thank goodness you are here.’

Fraser laughed. ‘I could count some of the ways both it is used and I am useful, my love, for you if you like?’ The wicked gleam in his eyes made her choke. This was the Fraser she knew and loved. Love. Every time she thought of what he meant to her, it gave her a flutter in her stomach and tightened her chest. Love. Were they at last going to be able to savour that feeling and enjoy it openly?

‘Love? Where are you? You seemed miles away.’

Morven dragged herself out of her reverie.

‘I’m here. I can count them myself. But on this occasion I was thinking of opening and closing the gate. I would have had a problem doing so as I’m riding side-saddle.’

‘I wondered why you were today. You used to ride astride before.’ Fraser dismounted and undid the saddlebags.

‘Only when we were alone and I borrowed a pair of your breeches,’ Morven pointed out. ‘Not in a habit and with two mamas and goodness knows how many staff around. And I didn’t saddle this horse and nor did you. And if you recollect I rode side-saddle the other day.’

Infuriating man—he knew all that.

Fraser laughed. ‘True. We’re here so you can get down and know I’ll be available to toss you up when it’s needed.’

She let him lift her to the ground, conscious she would much rather he laid her down than toss her up. However, that titbit she kept to herself. They had enough to concentrate on. She waited patiently whilst Fraser produced a key from a saddlebag and passed it to her. ‘I’ll see to the horses. I’d prefer you to wait for me. I won’t be long.’

‘That is silly. We both need to rub them down; it will be quicker.’

Fraser shook his head. ‘I don’t know what I’ll find. Here.’ He passed her a pistol. ‘Don’t use it unless you have to.’ He put the saddlebags next to the doorstep. ‘These weigh a ton. Have they packed us half a sheep?’

Morven snorted as she took hold of the pistol cautiously, conscious that however good a shot she was she’d never actually needed to point a firearm at a human let alone use it. Now she wondered what they were about to find, and made her mind up hastily. ‘Sheep or not, they will be safe. I’m coming with you. I’d rather hide behind Bonny and be near you than out here with only a pistol for company.’

Fraser looked at her closely. ‘You have shadows under your eyes,’ he said quietly and ran the pad of his thumb across her cheekbones, under her eyes. ‘This is all a bit much to comprehend isn’t it? Come on then.’

His gentle sympathy was almost too much to bear. Morven gave herself a mental shake. After all, he was experiencing much the same and she wasn’t helping him with her attitude.

She trailed behind him—he with the horses, she with the pistol—around the side of the compact lodge and into the yard and its three dilapidated stables. One had most of its roof missing, and another thistle in between the bricks. The third seemed as if the next puff of wind would blow it down.

Depressing.

Morven looked about and shuddered. ‘Rats and spiders no doubt. With the odd stoat or weasel for luck.’

Fraser stroked her forearm gently, and nodded. ‘More than likely. You stop here and play lookout. I’ll go and slay the beasties.’

She was rather glad he said that.

Fraser promised he would be away for the bare minimum of time. Morven hoped he meant it and reappeared before she had time to fidget on the mounting block she had appropriated for a seat. Even that had seen better days and tiny stones crumbled from its top and stuck to her skirts. She wriggled to dislodge one particularly sharp-edged stone, which tried to bore itself into her bottom, and she shuffled her feet. A scuffling noise to her left made her toes curl up. Mice she could cope with, rats not so much. A whisker appeared, part of a tawny head and one dark satanic eye that glinted in the sun. Morven bit back a squeak. Lord if she made that sort of noise it might think she was a sister, or worse an enemy intent on taking over his or her patch.

A pile of last year’s leaves rustled and moved. Morven’s heart beat faster. Her fingers tingled and her palms became clammy. Where was Fraser? Surely he should be back by now?

A head emerged. She shrieked, closed her eyes and gripped the pistol with two hands. She forced herself to relax her white-knuckled grip on the handle and jumped up onto the mounting block, to take several deep shuddering breaths as Fraser appeared at a run from inside the most habitable stable.

‘Love? Are you all right?’ He grabbed her arm as he turned his head in all directions. ‘Who is it? What is it? Where?’

She pointed at the leaves. ‘Look. Rats… Big ones. Killer ones.’ Within seconds Fraser prised her fingers open and removed the firearm from her.

‘Hold on, you can not shoot a pile of leaves. That is too ridiculous.’ He walked over to the leaves, chuckled and pocketed the pistol before he bent down then straightened with something in his hands. ‘I don’t think there is much killer instinct in this little chap yet.’ A tiny tawny kitten with one white paw mewed pitifully and tried to lick Fraser’s hands.