Page 72 of When the Laird Claims
THREE WEEKS LATER
Arran’s mother burst into his bedchamber, flustered and flapping like a chicken that had spotted a fox in the henhouse.
“What’s wrong?” Arran whirled around at the intrusion, the worst possible explanations running through his mind.
Had Victoria decided against the marriage? Had her father coerced her into returning to England during the night? Was she unwell, perhaps? Was it her sister who had imbibed a little too much wine at the feast last night? He waited for his mother to speak as she bustled around the room, oblivious to his stern glare.
“Maither?” he snapped.
She halted, staring at him. “What?”
“What are ye doing in here? Is somethin’ the matter?”
“Oh… what? Nay, there’s nothin’ the matter,” she replied with a waft of her hand. “I’ve been looking for that brooch of yer grandmaither all mornin’, and as I couldnae find it anywhere else, I thought I would search in the one place Ihavenaelooked.”
He knew the brooch she meant and also knew exactly where that pin was. However, he was less than inclined to tell her, considering she had almost given him an apoplexy.
“Yer bride looks beautiful,” his mother sighed, clasping her hands together. “Och, I was worried I’d never see the day where ye’d be married, and nae just married, but wed to someone ye love! I couldnae be happier if it were me own weddin’ day. Now, that brooch—where is it? Have ye seen it?”
Arran smiled at her as she continued to rush about the room, opening boxes and drawers in her desperation to find the adornment. She had not had a happy wedding day, by all accounts, and had not had a particularly happy marriage either. It was no great secret that she had lived for her children, and rather preferred it when her husband was away at war, not bothering her. But it cheered him to see that his joy could bring her such joy, too.
So much so that he decided to put her out of her misery.
“Kristin has it. She’s wearin’ it for the weddin’, and I doubt ye’ll be able to tear it off her unless ye’re braced for a battle.”
His mother halted, her hands coming to rest on her hips. “That little… Itoldher thatIplanned to wear it! She must have snuck it from me room when I wasnae looking. IkennedI had it in me jewelry box.”
She hurried back out, and silence descended once more—the quiet after a storm. Arran chuckled and shook his head, before turning to the mirror and adjusting his own brooch, pinned in place at his shoulder: a new piece that he had had made by a silversmith from the nearest town, depicting the lion of England and the unicorn of Scotland with a stone of blue agate, the color of Victoria’s eyes, in the center.
This is the start of everythin’.He took a breath.This is the start of a new era for us all.
Thanks to Victoria, he had reconsidered his position regarding the territories that his father had stolen. What was the point of having more land than he knew what to do with, especially if he had to keep fighting to keep it? And what was the point in fighting if it took him away from the only things that truly mattered to him—his bride and his family, and his clan?
A lot had happened in the past three weeks. He and Victoria had worked together to send out letters to the leaders of the “conquered” towns and villages and territories, inviting them to have sovereignty over their lands once more. The territory of Clan MacLeon might have shrunk, but the feeling of joy and peace within the clan had swelled to mighty proportions. Who wouldnotcelebrate the fact that the men would not have to ride out and risk their lives year after year?
As for the issue with Charles Rowley’s death, Victoria’s father had been the one to smooth over any contest or trouble. He had gone to the bastard’s family first, explaining that there had been a duel, enacted to defend the honor of two young ladies. He had rehearsed what he would say for days, to the point where even Arran knew the speech word for word, but, as Victoria’s father told it, the family had needed no more than that simple explanation.
Apparently, Charles’ own brother had just nodded and said,“It was always going to happen, one of these days. It was simply a matter of when.”
He had even offered to pay some degree of compensation to the “young ladies” in question, but Victoria’s father had refused the offer. Then again, the younger brother was not going to complain too much when Charles’ death meant a tremendous inheritance for him.
As far as any of them now knew, the story had not appeared in any papers, other than a small obituary that read:Charles Rowley, the Right Honorable Earl of Ashbrook, deceased.A bland end to a wicked life.
“Are ye just going to stand there admiring yerself all day, or are ye goin’ to get yer arse to the church to marry that sweet, sweet lass?” Kristin’s voice rudely interrupted Arran’s thoughts as he glared at her reflection in the mirror.
“Doesnay oneknock in this place?” he muttered as he turned to face his sister. “And ye ought to hide. Maither is out for yer blood after she found ye’d stolen her brooch.”
Kristin waved the remark away. “Then, let’s hurry on and make sure we’re the first to the church. Indeed,yeshould be there already. It willnae be long before Victoria sets off.”
“Where’s Ruby?” Arran realized with a start that the baby was not in her mother’s arms.
Kristin sighed. “She’s with Neil in the courtyard, waiting for us! Now, move yer arse!”
She headed back out, and with a weary chuckle, Arran followed her. He would not allow any interruptions or anything at all to ruin this day.
“You look so happy this time,” Melody said, tears in her eyes, as she led Victoria toward the waiting carriage. “In truth, I do not think I haveeverseen you so happy. Not for years, at least.”
Victoria smiled. “It is as surprising to me to be so full of joy. I hardly know what to do with myself. Indeed, I remember all the ladies of thetonwarning me that I would be anxious, and that marriage was not quite the stuff of dreams, but that I would be happy enough when all was said and done. They were verymistaken. Itcanbe the stuff of dreams if you are marrying the right man.”
