The Wrong Highland Bridegroom: A Novella (7 page)

Effie’s attempts to calm herself before the feast were all in vain. She sat in her place of honor beside Lady Campbell, her foot tapping on the floor under the table. Isabelle was also looking concerned. David had gone to negotiate with the English and had not yet returned.

He would be well. The negotiations would come to a peaceful resolution, Effie told herself. Hope. She must hold on to hope.
Please, Lord, let there be hope
.

She knew the moment Connor Maclachlan walked in the door. He was dressed in his tartan, the great kilt, wrapped around his waist and thrown over his shoulder. He wore the thick shirt of a Highlander and a large pin with a family crest was at his shoulder. If she thought seeing him in armor was impressive, this was more so. She had to hold her own hands together under the table to keep from cheering his entrance. He was all she could ever want: tall, handsome, smart, and kind. And the latter, she realized too late, was more important than all the rest.

The guests were beginning to note the absence of Laird Campbell. Tension filled the great hall. What would tomorrow bring? Would they continue the tournament or be at war?

“My lords and ladies,” called Isabelle, stepping in David’s place to begin the festivities. “It has been a momentous day for the tournament! Come, join the feast!”

Platters of food emerged, momentarily distracting people from the fact that Laird Campbell was absent.

“Where is David?” Effie asked.

“He shall come soon,” said Isabelle, but she could not hide the worry in her eyes.

Effie’s toe continued to tap and not even the arrival of savory meat pies, a whole roasted boar, roasted vegetables, whole cooked apples, and many other tasty temptations could divert her concern.

The whiskey flowed, the musicians played, but still David did not appear. Second and third courses were served, but still no David. Effie’s nerves made her tap the toe increasingly faster. Isabelle was wrenching the tablecloth into knots under the table.

Effie glanced at Connor, but his face was calm. He mouthed a word to her:
hope
. Effie took a deep breath and smiled. He understood. He knew what to say to help her be at ease.

Effie prayed and held on to hope.

Half the evening was gone before David Campbell returned. His presence was noted quickly and everyone in the hall silenced, waiting to hear what he would say.

Laird Campbell ascended to the high table and stood before his seat to address the gathered clans in the hall. “Lairds, ladies, clansmen, and welcome guests, I bring tidings of our dealings with the English lords who camp at our doorstep.”

The hall was so quiet Effie could hear the rain start to fall outside again. Even the servants were silent, gathered at the edges of the hall, waiting to hear their fate.

“I bring good news! We have come to terms acceptable and the English will purchase back this castle for the kinsman of my lady wife. We must, however, leave on the morrow and not tarry any longer on English soil. I, for one, will be glad to rejoin my family back in the Highlands. This lowland air is no’ for me.”

The assembly cheered. Isabelle gave a sigh of relief. Effie felt lighter, happier, and her eyes traveled to the first person with whom she wanted to share the moment. Connor. He gave her a true smile and she returned it.

“And now, we must finish awarding the winner of the tournament, our Robin Hood, Sir Connor Maclachlan.” David’s voice boomed through the hall and the clans cheered.

Connor stood and strode to the high table. He climbed the dais and joined David and Effie, who stood to bestow on him her boon.

“No man has worked harder nor more richly deserves this honor,” said David. “I canna recall a joust when I was more afeared o’ the horse than the lance.” The crowd laughed.

“Sir Connor,” David continued. “Ye have certainly proven yer courage, yer skill, and yer lack o’ good sense in choosing a mount. I am proud to give ye this golden shield as the winner of the tournament, and I am proud to have ye as my brother when ye wed a certain Maid Marian.” David motioned to Effie.

Connor smiled at her. Effie took a deep breath. It was time to bestow her boon. But who was the lady who had stolen his heart?

“Sir Connor.” Effie stepped boldly to him before the gathered assembly. “I bestow this boon upon ye as the winner of the tournament.” She stood on tiptoe and chastely kissed one cheek. When she went to kiss the other cheek, Connor took the opportunity to lean forward and whisper in her ear.

“It is ye,” he whispered.

“Me? Me what?” she asked.

“It is ye who have stolen my heart.” Connor swept her into his embrace and kissed her on the lips. As if from a distance, she could hear the crowd erupt into cheers and then all noise faded away except the pounding of her heart. It was her. He was in love with
her
.

Effie wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into him as he deepened the kiss. It was…wonderful.

“Oh!” cried Effie when he finally allowed her to breath once more. “I like kissing!” And then she blushed for having said so out loud.

“To the chapel!” cried David. “This union must be sealed before another night is through!”

She was rushed out of the hall to the chapel, holding the hand of Connor on one side and Connor’s mother on the other. Lady Maclachlan shed tears of joy, wiped them away with her handkerchief, and shed some more.

David brought the marriage contract and the priest was called from his whiskey to conduct the ceremony. Within minutes, the unruly party, consisting mostly of the Campbell and Maclachlan clans, were seated in the chapel, ready for the wedding.

David unrolled the contract, which Connor signed. He handed the quill to Effie who paused. This was all going so fast; she needed to make sure she was ready. She tried to still the thoughts swirling in her head. The chapel grew silent. Everyone waited to see what Effie would do.

“I swore that I would not marry only to please my family, but that I would find a man I truly loved,” announced Effie. A few ladies in the chapel gasped. “After witnessing the love I see shared by my brother David and his wife, how could I settle for anything less than true love?”

The guests were silent, not sure what she was saying.

“We agreed to find people to wed for whom we have true affection,” Effie reminded Connor. He nodded slowly in agreement. “So I want ye to know, I want ye all to know, that Connor Maclachlan, I do love ye.”

Connor smiled broadly. “I love ye too.”

Their families cheered and David breathed a sigh of relief. The rest of the ceremony was a bit of a blur. The priest spoke; she answered some vows, as did Connor. Effie was too busy gazing longingly into his eyes to pay much attention to anything else. The Lord had answered her prayers in the way she least expected.

At the end of the ceremony, the priest spoke over them a blessing, which as long as Effie lived she would never forget.

“And now a blessing for yer marriage from the book of Romans,” said the priest. “
May
the
God
of
hope
fill
you
with
all
joy
and
peace
as
you
trust
in
him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
”

“Welcome to Maclachlan Castle, m’lady.” Connor gestured to the fine castle on the hill.

“Oh, indeed it is lovely!” Effie spurred her horse up the hill, though the mountainous terrain forced her to dismount and walk the last part of the way. “’Tis a verra defensible position.”

“Aye. ’Tis a goodly situation,” said Connor. “I do hope it pleases ye.”

Effie hoped it would too. They had been traveling for months, stopping to spend time with the Campbells along the way to Connor’s homeland. The day after the wedding, they had been forced to pack up and move as the English took ownership of Alnsworth Castle. Effie cared little for the castle but was greatly pleased by her twin sister Elyne’s return with a bridegroom of her own. In the end, everything had worked out to Effie’s satisfaction, and now she was excited to see her new home.

The castle itself had two towers on either side of a five-story square keep. It was relatively new and surrounded by a thick stone wall. Effie noted the solid construction and high position with approval. She could live here.

With Connor at her side, she rode into the courtyard to the cheers of his clan. His parents and the rest of the entourage followed. The clan came out to meet them and she was pleased to greet them. The Machlachlan clan were a friendly lot.

“Come,” Connor whispered in her ear. He took her by the hand and led her up three flights of stairs to what must be the family solar.

“This is a pleasant room,” said Effie, turning in a circle to take its measure.

“Aye, I wish to show ye this.” Connor led her to a door in the solar which led to a bedchamber. He pulled her in and closed the door, fastening the latch.

“And this room is…?”

“Mine. Ours.” Connor easily picked her up and carried her to the bed. He kissed her slowly before he laid her gently on the bed. “I have been wanting time alone wi’ ye for so long.”

“We have been traveling wi’ many o’ yer clan.”

“I love them truly, but I fear I have wished them all to blazes if only to spend one uninterrupted night wi’ ye.”

“Not verra charitable, my love.”

“True. But honest.” He lay beside her on the bed. “I have been wanting nothing more than to hold ye all night, to love ye all night…”

“Wi’out the helpful advice, comments, and encouragement from yer mother?” giggled Effie.

Lady Maclachlan had made it abundantly clear she was awaiting grandchildren and would accept nothing less than at least one of them nine months after the wedding.

“Och, aye,” groaned Connor. “I did not marry ye for yer birthing hips.”

“Too bad. According to yer mother it is my best feature.”

Now Connor had to laugh. “I want ye for ye. I do love ye so. I have no need to fill our nursery soon.”

Effie curled up beside him. She was home. “Mayhap my news will no’ please ye.”

“What news?”

“I am with child.”

Connor sat up, a huge smile on his face. “Truly?”

Effie nodded.

“Well then.” He gave her a wide grin and leaned down to kiss her stomach. “I am seeing yer birthing hips wi’ new appreciation.”

Effie laughed and Connor joined her. “Shall we tell yer mother now?” asked Effie.

“Soon, but for now, let me enjoy ye and yer little one all to myself.” Connor kissed her slowly and all rational thought fled her mind.

“I love ye,” they said together.

If you love Amanda Forester’s witty, romantic, fast-paced adventures in lush historical settings, you’re in luck.

The
Wrong
Highland
Bridegroom
is the second novella in an exciting trilogy set in medieval Scotland and featuring the Campbell sisters (of the clan featured in Forester’s acclaimed Scottish romance trilogy). Don’t miss the third in the romantic adventures of the Campbell sisters in Amanda Forester’s next novella:

The Trouble with a Highland Bride

Available
August
2014

Better yet, the three sisters find true love with the ancestors of the three heroes featured in the author’s hot new Regency romance series. Read on for samples of
A
Wedding
in
Springtime
, the tale of ruined debutante
Miss
Eugenia
Talbot
and notorious rogue
Mr. William Grant
, and
A
Midsummer
Bride
, wherein
Duncan
Maclachlan
, Earl of Thornton, refuses to marry American heiress
Harriet
Burton
for all the right reasons—much to her dismay.

And watch for Amanda’s third Matchmaker Regency, the story of how
Miss
Penelope
Rose
, the notorious Madame X, exclusive matchmaker to London’s elite, finds her toughest client yet in the handsome guise of the
Duke
of
Marchford
:

A Winter Wedding

Available
September
2014 from Sourcebooks Casablanca

A Wedding in Springtime

Available now
from Sourcebooks Casablanca

London, Spring 1810

Ten minutes into her societal debut, Eugenia Talbot was ruined.

A favorable presentation in court cannot ensure a young lady’s successful launch into society, but a poor presentation can certainly ruin it. Miss Eugenia Talbot pressed her lips together in an attempt to make the laughter gurgling up inside her die in her throat. The Queen of England glared down her royal nose at Genie. Her Royal Highness, Queen Charlotte, was not amused.

Genie took a deep breath—hard to do laced so tight in her stays she feared one wrong move would crack a rib. The restrictive corset held her posture rigid, which helped keep her headdress in place, a heavy jeweled item with a monstrous, white ostrich plume. Genie knelt in a deep curtsy before the queen, a move she had practiced with a special tutor hired by her aunt to ensure her correct performance. A deep curtsy wearing the required elaborate hoop skirt of court that weighed almost two stone needed to be practiced.

Rising majestically from her curtsy, Genie was pleased she had successfully navigated that potential hazard and brought herself under control. Perhaps the queen had not noticed the stifled giggle. It was hardly Genie’s fault, for when the Lord Chamberlain announced her name, he also let loose an audible bodily noise. Having the unfortunate influence of brothers in her formative years, Genie could not help but find amusement in the Lord Chamberlain’s offense.

“How is your family, Miss Talbot?” asked the queen with staunch politeness.

“They are all well, Your Highness,” responded Genie as coached.

“Are your parents with you in London?”

“No, Your Highness. I am staying with Lady Bremerton, my aunt.” Genie glanced at Aunt Cora, whose frozen countenance betrayed her anxiety over Genie’s presentation.

“And your brothers and sisters?”

“I have four brothers. Two at university, one in the regulars, and one in the Royal Navy.”

“Ah, our sons, they have been ripped from our bosom. Ripped I say.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Genie, pressing her lips together again. She was going to kill her brothers when they returned for teaching her deplorable cant. She could not laugh.

“It is a foul wind that blows from France,” said the queen.

And the Lord Chamberlain chose that moment to blow a little foul wind himself. It was loud, long, and just when Genie thought he had finished he gave another little toot. She clenched her jaw so tight tears formed in her eyes.

She took a calming breath, sure she had gotten herself under regulation until she spied a man silently laughing, his shoulders shaking, his smile hidden behind his hand. He caught her eye, gave her a broad smile, and winked.

The entire drawing room was silently staring at her with censure. The queen gave her a look that could blister paint. The more Genie tried to get herself under control, the more amusing the entire scene became. It could not be helped; her body started to shake.

Genie tried to take a deep breath and a giggle escaped. She tried to squelch it, but a laugh emerged, followed by an unladylike chortle and an unfortunate snort. The more she tried to stop, the worse it became, and with a burst, Genie was laughing out loud.

The queen waved a hand to dismiss her. Instead of dissipating Genie’s humor, it only made her laugh harder. Genie managed another deep bow and walked backward out of the queen’s presence, giggling as she went. By some miracle, she did not trip on her gown and fall to the floor. It hardly would have mattered if she had.

The Lord Chamberlain and the laughing gentleman had conspired against her. Her debut into society was a disaster. She would surely never be admitted into the
haut
ton
. She was a failure. A social pariah.

Eugenia Talbot was ruined.

***

People stared as they passed her. Genie never felt more self-conscious, and feared her face was as bright as her skirt. She wanted nothing more than to hide away from the malicious looks and vicious whispers. Unfortunately, wearing courtly attire with feathers that soared at least two feet above her head, she was hardly inconspicuous among the steady throng of people in the outer chambers of the drawing rooms. So she plastered on a fake smile and waited for her aunt to summon her to the coach while the minutes dragged into lifetimes.

“Uncle! I am so glad you are here,” said a youthful voice. A young woman was being escorted into the royal drawing rooms. She struggled forward in a similar unwieldy hoop skirt, dyed an unfortunate shade of bright pink.

“I could not forget your presentation to court,” said a male voice behind Genie.

“I shall be so much less nervous with you here,” gushed the young girl.

“Trust me,” said the man, “after what I just witnessed, you shall be brilliant by comparison.”

“What happened?” asked the girl, forgetting herself for a moment and cocking her head to one side, forcing her to use both hands to steady the plume of white feathers rising from her head.

“A debutante with a shocking lapse of propriety, who is no doubt being banished to the outer regions of the empire as we speak.”

Genie turned to face her accuser. It was none other than the laughing man.

With a flash of recognition, the man had the decency to look sheepish. He waved the young girl forward into the drawing room and stepped up to Genie. He gave Genie a bow and came up smiling, his blue eyes sparkling. He was a handsome man; there could be no denying his appeal, with sandy blond hair and laughing eyes. His features were pleasing, high cheekbones giving him an impish appearance. His attire was splendid in the required royal-purple silk coat and knee breeches. Unlike others who appeared foppish in the requisite colors of the English royal court, the man before her commanded his style. It was not every gentleman who could wear purple silk britches with confidence.

“Please forgive me if I have offended you,” said the man with a disarming smile.

“Forgive you? Why, there is nothing to forgive. You only spoke the truth, did you not?” Genie presented the man with a smile, the kind she kept on a shelf to feign good humor when she had none to give.

“Not at all. Merely trying to encourage my niece—timid thing, needs encouragement. Do what I can to make her feel at ease.”

“You are charity itself.”

“No, no I…” The man paused and gave her a guilty grin. “I’m not going to redeem myself from my careless words, am I?”

“I can forgive your words. You are no doubt correct that my aunt is at this moment trying to find a penal colony for me at the greatest distance from London. What I cannot forgive is your shocking wink that caused this trouble.”

“Surely this affair is not my fault! It is my Lord Chamberlain who embarrassed himself beyond redemption.”

“If you had not laughed, I would have been able to calm myself.”

“How could I not be amused? Honestly, I do hope the poor man survives the night.”

“But no one caught you laughing,” said Genie, getting at the heart of the injustice. “They were only looking at me.”

“Naturally they were looking at you. Between the two of us, there can be no comparison.” The man’s easy smile turned flirtatious, but Genie was accustomed to flattery regarding her appearance, and considered herself immune to its charms. The magnitude of her failure weighed down her shoulders. She wished she could tear off the heavy headpiece, but she had brought upon herself enough scandal for one day—all thanks to the man before her.

“I do wish I had never seen you,” said Genie in uncharacteristically clipped tones. “And since you are no doubt correct that my aunt is even now booking my passage to the Americas or Botany Bay, I will take comfort in the fact that I will never see you again. Good day, sir!”

With fortuitous timing, Genie was called to join her aunt, and she practically flew into the coach on the plumes of her own headdress. Unfortunately, her sweeping exit was hindered by the logistics of maneuvering three hoop skirts belonging to herself, her aunt, and her cousin, which was done with such haste Genie feared her gown would be sadly crushed. Her aunt demanded the curtains be drawn, as if the mere sight of Eugenia Talbot was so offensive the whole of London must be protected.

“Disaster! Oh, how could you do this to me?” Lady Bremerton lay back on the plush squabs of the town coach as it jolted forward, her hand on her forehead for dramatic flair. “I should have known you needed more training, more tutelage. After all, your father’s family can have no concept of what is expected in higher society, let alone what is proper in court.”

Genie swallowed down a retort. She had intended to prove she was every bit as polished as the other debutantes. Acting the hoyden before the queen proved otherwise.

“I am sorry Aunt Cora,” said Genie, her contrition a tight knot in her chest. “Sorry, Cousin Louisa.” Louisa’s eyes were sympathetic, but her aunt would give no quarter.

“Sorry will not do you any good, nor will speaking to a known rake,” chastised her aunt.

“A known rake?”

“Mr. Grant. I saw you speaking with him. He will do you no good.”

“I know that is true,” said Genie with a flush.

“Oh, what is to be done? You are ruined, ruined for sure. My reputation is in tatters. There is nothing else for it; you must be married. And quick!”