Page 2 of Beware A Wallflower's Wrath
“It was more the Highland mountain I had to ask. Colin is more than a little intimidating.”
“Aye, he is until he kens he can trust ye.” She placed a palm to his cheek. “Truly, I love ye something fierce, Rabbie mine. I felt it the first day I laid eyes on ye, so handsome in yer fine waistcoat, a cravat so white it almost blinded me.”
“It only appeared so white because your person was covered in mud. My rapscallion horse decided to get antsy in front of a puddle standing between me and the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.” He chuckled. “Deuced horrified when his hoof hit that mud and splattered it all over your lovely dress.”
Annis laughed with him. “I was ready to give ye the worst skelping with my tongue until I saw those mournful hazel eyes.” She shook her head. “I suddenly pictured myself as ye must have seen me?—”
“And began laughing. A full-out belly laugh, clutching your middle. I thought for sure you would fall over into the puddle. Had I found the most insane woman in Glasgow, I asked myself? And then those fathomless sapphire eyes locked onto mine and?—”
“You guffawed like the most unsophisticated mon in all of Glasgow,” Annis finished for him. She sighed. “But ye caught yerself quickly and became the gentleman, coming to my rescue.”
He had, hadn’t he? That day in late May, he’d jumped from his horse, removed his cravat, and wiped her face clean. Then he’d introduced himself and walked her home.
Robert had lost an expensive cravat. And his heart.
“How long before yer aunt realized yer trips to Glasgow werena about her?” A smirk curved her plump lips.
“Aunt Chloe was suspicious on the second visit. ‘Ye dinna come to see me for a year, and here ye are a month later?’ She harassed me until I told her about you.” He stood and pulled Annis into his arms. “I believe you’re the reason I’ll inherit her estate. Small, yes, but all mine.”
“Quite the accomplishment for a third son. Do ye wonder if it has anything to do with her being half-Scot and ye falling in love with a Scottish lass?”
Robert placed his hand on his chest. “I’m hurt you think she would not do it solely out of love for her favorite nephew.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But I don’t expect it hurt my standing at all.”
“If ye kiss me again, it will improve yer standing with yer fiancée.”
“I’ll gladly—” His mouth went dry. “You’re saying yes?”
She nodded, and he bent his head, covering her mouth with his.
Harrumph! “There’d best be a good explanation for this, or someone will be losing a head.” Colin MacNaughton filled the doorway, his wide shoulders touching either side, his dark head bent beneath the frame. He smacked a giant fist into his palm. “Sooner than later if ye please.”
“Oh, Cousin, ye may be the first to congratulate us. We’re betrothed.”
Colin’s blue eyes twinkled as he grinned. “As I said, sooner than later if ye please.”
Three months later
Annis paced the parlor, trying not to fuss with her chignon. Her aunt had styled her hair, threading a few small roses within the ribbon and leaving tendrils to curl down each side of her face. Her new white muslin dress clung to her legs as she moved, making the gold print flowers seem to climb up her limbs. The light-rose ribbon just below her bosom cinched the breath from her as she waited. And waited.
And Rabbie would arrive any moment. Why was she so nervous?
Laughter filtered through the door, and Annis longed to join in. A few family members, all employees of the textile mill, had planned a celebratory dinner in honor of her recent betrothal. Aunt Sorcha had prepared a feast large enough to feed the entire clan rather than a small group. Mrs. Douglas, her employer from the bookstore, had also been invited.
Uncle Donald’s guffaw sounded over Colin’s deep voice. They’d probably started with the drink already. A sip of wine would be heavenly right now. Her tongue was dry as raw cotton. Ye’re panicking for no reason. Stop being an addlepate. But was she?
Annis closed her eyes, thinking back to his recent letters. The once flowery prose declaring his undying love had shifted ever so slightly. There was more reserve in his recent correspondence. At her mention of a ceilidh on his next visit, he had responded with a firm but polite refusal.
I would prefer to postpone any grand celebrations for now.
She had already agreed to wait on the ceremony until he had finished his apprenticeship. Had his family refused to acknowledge her? There was something amiss, and her intuition rarely proved wrong. Her heart might tell her she was being foolish. Her brain warned her there was danger ahead. Her hand went to her belly without thought, the palm warm through the muslin.
Ahem.
Turning, she saw him in the door. Love shone bright in his hazel eyes, the smile on his face dashing away her horrid thoughts. She rushed to him, throwing her arms about his neck, and sighed when he held her close. But as she drew back, peering up at him, she watched the joy fade from his expression. He carefully removed her hands from his neck and stepped back.
“Rabbie, what is it? Ye look as though someone has died.” She tried to force a chuckle, to lighten the moment, but a knot was forming in her belly.
“We must talk.”
