Page 14 of Highlander’s Lust

7

Only the Very Best for the Beautiful Bride

Sorley was standing on the great hall entrance steps, waiting for them. He had been warned by the sentries that the elegant carriage was approaching the castle, and he lost no time in running downstairs and outside.

When the carriage pulled up in the main courtyard, he plastered a wide smile on his face.

“Welcome! Come inside; please do.”

As a steward, it was not unheard of for a laird’s cousin to welcome guests to the castle, but Jean could not help herself from thinking it showed Laird Brisbane in a bad light for him not to be doing it himself. It was not as though they had forgotten to give him adequate warning of their arrival; her father had sent a messenger ahead of them at their last stop.

“‘Tis only one more reading of the banns, me laird,” Sorley said happily, “and then the marriage ceremony can be performed. Cook has bought every viand and delicacy to be had at market for miles round! The wedding feast—though it unfortunately has to be small due to the clan being in mourning for dear Ramsay—is sure to be magnificent.”

Callum and Jean nodded their understanding.

The steward looked at the carriage and saw that no one else was exiting behind.

“Where is yer son an’ Lady Macanroy?” he inquired. “Is it only the three o’ ye?”

Sorley walked down the steps and went to peer into the carriage interior as though he expected Jean’s mother to be hiding in there.

Callum interrupted him. “Me wife is in a delicate condition, sir. Jean’s maid, Eby Borkum, travels in her mither’s place. Me son stayed behind to care for Lady Macanroy and look after the lodge.”

“Of course, how f-forgetful of me. Maybe it’s the fact that Laird Ramsay is no’ quite one month in the grave that throws me off balance. I don’ ken whether I b-be coming or going, there has been so much happening here lately,” Sorley stammered, and smiled.

A deep voice sounded from inside the entrance hall. Then Laird Brisbane’s tall, wide-shouldered frame appeared at the castle doors. “Why would me faither’s death put ye off remembering the circumstances related to me meeting my beautiful betrothed, Sorley?”

Sorley jumped. “Ahh! Charlie, I didnae see ye there. I was only remarking on Lady Macanroy’s absence. She will be missed. A-And, it is no’ out o’ place to say yer w-wedding follows hot on the heels of yer faither’s wake.”

Charlie ignored the blethering steward and went to greet his guests. He gave Callum a hearty Highlander welcome, clasping the man’s forearm and patting him on the back. Neither laird aspired to wear the fashions of the day, and if it had not been for the different patterns of their plaids and the grey hair showing around Callum’s temples, the similarity between the two men would have been extremely noticeable. They had the look of men who had long been used to having their commands obeyed and ruling over their lands with an iron fist. And when it came to combat, it was clear both Callum and Charlie spent many hours practicing with sword and bow.

Only Eby noticed this, however. Now that she was in Charlie's presence once more, Jean found herself to be strangely shy, even embarrassed. In a few short days, she would be lying in this man’s bed. She kept her eyes down, staring at the flagstones.

The guests followed Laird Brisbane into the front room. It was magnificently furnished. Portraits showing generations of severe-looking Brisbane lairds frowned down at them from the mountings high on the walls, their dignified appearances somewhat dimmed by portly bodies and double chins. Elsewhere in the room, elegant satin settles lined the thick carpet edges and beeswax candles mounted in gold candelabras stood on the mantelshelf.

Charlie beckoned the footman toward him and indicated for the man to show Eby up to her mistress’s chambers. Then he turned to offer his guests refreshment.

“I will nae insult ye by offering ye an inferior whisky to yer own, Macanroy, but p’raps ye would care for some ale?”

Callum grinned. “As it so happens, I have a cartload of whisky following on behind our carriage as a gift in celebration of the betrothal and imminent marriage. But I am sure a mug o’ ale would be most welcome. What say ye, Jean?”

They would never know whether Jean wanted ale or not. There was a frightful clamoring at the door, and a voice rose up shouting, “Let me through, boy! I come on an errand of grave importance!”

The doors burst open, and a messenger from Macanroy Lodge ran into the room. It was easy to see with one look that the man had never left the horse saddle for the entire length of the fifty leagues that separated the lodge from the castle.

He saw his master and ran to fall at his feet.

“Laird, ye must come back! Lady Macanroy has fallen ill. The healers fear for her life and the life of the bairn too!”

Callum jumped out of his comfortable armchair as though he had been stung by a bee.

“When did ye leave her?” he demanded to know.

The man was shaking with fatigue. “Laird, I have been riding behind yer carriage for some time. Me lady took ill no’ two days after yer departure.”

Laird Macanroy looked wildly around him, and then his eyes alighted on Charlie. “Brisbane, I must leave at once. Can I use one o’ yer horses?”

“Take whichever one ye want,” Laird Brisbane said, and went to the door with Callum, saying to Jean over his shoulder, “Dinnae fash yerself about yer mither, Jean. I have nay doubt she and the bairn will be braw and bonny by the time yer faither gets home.”