Page 78 of The Scot Beds His Wife
“So they keep telling me,” she replied with an impish wink. “Now do go away and leave us girls alone. I’ll have your bride presentable within the half hour.”
“I’ll return to collect her when ye send for me,” he vowed, and closed the door behind him.
Presentable. That’s as good as she could ever hope for. Most especially in contrast to Mena’s stunning and voluptuous beauty. The marchioness reminded her of some of the sensational paintings she’d seen at the opera house in Denver the one time she’d gone with Bennett. Lush and luxurious, with soft curves and a come-hither gaze, painted in vivid color from her vibrant red hair to her green eyes.
Even her ivory skin seemed illuminated by some inner light. What, Samantha wondered, created such an effect? Money, maybe? Expensive creams and haberdashery. Happiness?
Love?
“I’ll leave her in your… capable hands.” Gavin took one of those hands and kissed it before shutting the door behind him.
Christ, was she going to have to endure him flirting like this with all women?
Or just the uncommonly lovely ones with the impressive breasts?
The moment they were alone, Mena rushed to her, claiming a place on the mattress beside her, and taking her hand. “I’ve been worried sick about you ever since Thorne galloped to Ravencroft at dawn yesterday. He said you’d been shot! That Erradale burned to the ground. My God, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. The bullet grazed a bit into the muscle, but I was lucky.”
“Thank heavens,” Mena continued emphatically. “Butthen,Thorne announced that he was marrying youtodayand Liam had to be the one to perform the ceremony or he’d have to wait for a license from Glasgow. I could have fainted, I tell you. I almost did! Liam only agreed out of sheer stupefied curiosity.”
“He’s not the only one,” Samantha muttered.
Mena gave her a probing look. “You can imagine my surprise at the news, especially after our previous visit not so very long ago.”
Samantha considered how best to proceed. She didn’t want to make the marchioness suspicious, but neither did she want to seem like she’d fallen under Gavin’s spell like so many idiot ninnies before her. “A lot has happened since we talked last,” she said carefully.
“If this is about money, or a place to stay, I’ll have you know that I’ve gathered a great many men who are not only willing, but eager to help with your cattle. I was going to call upon you to give you the news. Likewise, you could always come to stay at Ravencroft until Erradale can be inhabited again. Indefinitely, if you need. I’ve already spoken to Liam about it and he’s more than willing.”
“To save me from marriage to his brother, you mean.”
“I didn’t say that.” Mena looked away guiltily.
“You didn’t have to.”
“It’s just that… I’ve seen marriages for the sake of land and legacy go very wrong, indeed. Thorne is a good man, but… troubled. There are rifts in this family that…”
“I know about Colleen,” Samantha said softly. “Hell, Gavin’s father killed mine. This situation couldn’t get more complicated.”
Would that were a lie. Things could get much, much messier in a hurry.
Some, if not all, of her jealous ire at Lady Ravencroft evaporated at the earnest look of concern on her face. Would she still make the same offer, Samantha wondered, once her belly began to swell? Or would she turn her out to the cold, as she’d seen so many do, including the Smiths with their own daughter, Clara. The fourteen-year-old pregnant girl had only been welcomed back into the fold when she’d married the reluctant father and “repented her sins.”
Samantha had a feeling the Scots, the English, and the Americans were not so very different in their regard of unmarried mothers.
“This wedding is… to our mutual benefit,” she reassured them both. “I need protection, and help with Erradale.”
“But Liam would happily provide—”
“I need a husband,” she said firmly. “And the annuity he promised. Inverthorne needs an heir. Frankly, I vowed to keep Erradale out of the hands of the Mackenzie Laird, your husband, which is where it will likely go if I let the court proceedings take place. So today I am marrying Gavin St. James.”
“All right, dear.” Mena squeezed her hand after anxiously searching her face and finding nothing but rote determination. “Then let’s get you dressed.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
It occurred to Gavin that the first thought a groom had upon spying his bride shouldn’t be to wonder whether or not she wore knickers. By his troth, it’d been all he’d thought about since the admission had left her mouth.
He’d felt like an utter shite for not considering such details before, and was then made a greater bastard for wondering how long he could keep his wee wife’s nethers accessibly bare beneath her skirts.
