Page 31 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

Dwyn’s eyebrows flew up with alarm at that claim. “Oh, Geordie is no’ lucky. I mean, he’s no interested in me that way. He’s been very kind and kept company with me because o’ me hurting me feet, but he’s no’ interested in marrying. I heard yer brother Aulay telling his wife that Geordie had said so.”

“Aye, he did say that his first day home,” Acair admitted when Rory and Alick looked disbelieving. “But he was no’ very convincing and is most possessive o’ ye, lass. ’Tis why I flirted with ye so shamelessly, to give him a poke and help him decide what he really wanted.” He grinned and nodded when Dwyn turned to glance at him with surprise, and then added, “And it appears to have worked. He’s in talking with Aulay and yer da right now, and I’m thinking the lad’s definitely interested and we may be having a wedding here soon.”

Dwyn frowned at the suggestion, and picked up her drink to gulp some down as her gaze slid to the upper landing. Acair might think Geordie had changed his mind, but he didn’t know what had happened in the orchard and that it might have been witnessed. If Geordie had changed his mind, she suspected Aulay had changed it for him after hearing what they’d got up to. That was not something she wanted. Had Geordie wanted her to wife himself, that would be one thing, but she had no desire to have a man forced to marry her, and then resent her for it all the days of her life. Especially not Geordie, who had shown her such pleasure.

“Are ye all right, lass?” Rory asked suddenly, and when she glanced at him in question, he pointed out, “Ye’re rubbing yer stomach. Is it paining ye?”

Dwyn glanced down at herself to see that she was indeed rubbing her stomach, but then it was troubling her a bit. Probably just a result of her worry, she thought, and took another drink.

“So, we’re agreed?” James Innes asked. “We’ll have a ceremony here tomorrow, and hold a second ceremony and celebration at Innes for our people to witness?”

Geordie nodded impatiently. He was fine with that; he just wanted this over with so that he could go tell Dwyn he was marrying her. Or should he ask her? He wondered over that briefly, and frowned. Surely she’d be willing? He didn’t want her to marry him only because her father had agreed to it. He wanted her to want to be married to him, and her response to him in the orchard made him think she would. But they hadn’t known each other long, and she had mentioned those worries she had about dying on the birthing bed.

Geordie frowned as he recalled that. He didn’t intend to allow that to happen. In fact, he decided he’d best press Rory into promising to stay with them during the last weeks of her every pregnancy so that he was sure to be there to attend it. If anyone could see her safely through giving birth to their children, it was Rory. Geordie wasn’t losing her to the birthing bed. In fact, mayhap he should avoid spilling his seed in her. He could live without a child for a while. It was her he didn’t want to do without.

“That’s it, then,” Aulay said, straightening. “If ye’ll just both sign . . .”

Geordie glanced around to see Baron Innes bending to sign the marriage contract. When the man finished, he took the quill and signed his own name, the tension in him easing as he did. It was done. Dwyn would be his.

“I’ll just go talk to Dwyn and tell her—” James Innes began.

“Nay,” Geordie interrupted, straightening from the desk. “I will ask her first.”

Baron Innes raised his eyebrows at that. “There’s no need to ask, lad. The contract is done. She’s yours.”

“I will still ask anyway,” Geordie insisted.

Dwyn’s father shrugged. “As ye will.”

Geordie turned to head for the door, aware that the other two men were following. He led the way out into the hall, and was headed for the stairs, when he noticed the activity down by the garderobe. Alick, Uncle Acair, Jetta and Dwyn’s sisters, Una and Aileen, were all standing about outside the garderobe door, looking anxious. He was just wondering what was about when Alick glanced around and spotted him. The way his brother’s eyes widened just before he rushed toward them, his hands rising as if to soothe a skittish horse, immediately sent alarm coursing through him.

“What’s happening?” he asked sharply.

“’Tis fine. Do no’ panic,” Alick said soothingly. “Rory says she’ll most like be fine.”

“What?” he asked with alarm. “No’ Dwyn?”

His expression was answer enough, and Geordie went to move past him, but paused when Jetta now reached them too, and patted his arm, her face a mask of concern. “Dwyn is purging, Geordie. But Rory does no’ think the poison was deadly. Just one to make her ill.”

“Poison!” he bellowed with alarm, and nothing could have kept him from hurrying forward then.

“Aye,” Alick said as he, Aulay, Jetta and Laird Innes rushed to keep up with him. “’Twas in her drink. She complained her tummy was upset, and Rory grabbed a pitcher to refill her glass thinking a drink might settle her stomach, but then he suddenly stopped and sniffed her mug. The next thing we all knew, he’d jumped up, scooped up Dwyn and rushed away from the table. Both garderobes below were busy and he had to bring her up to this one. He was just in time too. She started retching just as I got the door open.”

“It was in her mug, no’ the ale?” Aulay asked behind him.

“As far as I ken,” Alick said with a frown.

“Go and check,” Aulay ordered, and Alick turned and hurried away to the stairs as Geordie urged Dwyn’s sisters aside so that he could get to the garderobe door. He reached for the handle, but paused as he heard the violent retching coming from the other side of the door.

“She’ll be embarrassed do ye see her getting sick like this,” Una said quietly. “She does no’ like to appear weak in front o’ anyone.”

“Aye,” Aileen said sadly. “She’s always had to be strong fer us, ye see. ’Tis why we are so determined to see her married. She was a good mother to us. She should have children o’ her own, and a husband to care for her, instead o’ always having to be the strong one.”

The words struck Geordie like a blow, and he turned to spear her father with a furious gaze. “Dwyn was nine when yer second wife died. I knew she helped take care o’ her sisters after that, but surely ye did no’ leave her to raise them on her own?”

“Aye, he did,” Una said, and he could hear the resentment in her voice. “She ran the keep too, and even took care o’ listening to the villagers’ complaints, and judging disputes.”

“She also arranged our betrothal contracts,” Aileen said quietly.

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