Page 55 of Claimed Highland Brides

10

NEGOTIATIONS

I n the end, the plaid corseted gown looked quite well with a white petticoat. Aileen’s hair was combed to within an inch of its life and stuffed beneath a bonnet, a few wisps left hanging down, cradling her face. Sarah framed her eyes with kohl, emphasizing the moss-green of her eyes.

Sarah was unable to do anything about the paleness of her skin or the fear in her eyes. She felt as if she was jumping off a cliff with no idea how far the bottom was. Realizing that she had led a hitherto extremely sheltered existence, buffeted on all sides by her sister, she felt entirely alone, surrounded by strangers.

Barclay stood on a short stone plinth in front of which stood the lawyer, Euan McGregor. On either side of Barclay stood his cousins, smiling as Aileen walked towards them. The members of Euan’s household hovered near the terrace, smiling and talking excitedly.

Her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised that they could not hear it. Finally, she came to a stop opposite Barclay.

Euan smiled at them both, pointing down at the plinth where a sheaf of scripts lay. “First things first, we have the marriage contract.” He picked up the scripts, handing two each to both Barclay and Aileen.

“Take yer time. Read, and sign.” He handed them each a quill.

Aileen read every word, seeing that it was a reasonably standard marriage contract. She could spot no pitfalls, but her stomach still churned at the thought of signing it without having an independent solicitor read through it. She glanced at Barclay and found him watching her.

“Is there anything the matter?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at the document. In truth, there was no cause for alarm aside from her innate caution. She read through the document again. “I think it is fine,” she said at last.

“Excellent.” The solicitor bowed to her as he handed her a pen. She signed with a flourish, managing a small grin as she handed the quill back. Euan dipped it into the ink and passed it to Barclay, who signed his contract with no hesitation. They exchanged contracts and signed again.

Euan gathered the pages together neatly and tied them with a bow. “Now that the formalities have been completed…” He turned to Diego. “Ye have the rope?”

Diego reached into his tunic and extracted a long red silk ribbon, handing it to the solicitor. Aileen gave him a sidelong glance, and he turned, quirking an eyebrow at her. She raised her own eyebrow, and Barclay loudly cleared his throat. She jumped, her eyes darting to his, and found that his were narrowed at her. He stuck out his hand, still glaring, and she did the same, her brow furrowing with puzzlement at his apparent annoyance. He produced a sghian dhu from his tunic and cut across her palm and then his own.

They pressed their palms together as Euan tied their hands and then stepped back, gesturing to them both. “Ye may say th’ words.”

Barclay turned to Aileen. “I, Barclay MacFarland, do take thee, Aileen Douglass, as my duly wedded wife, to love and to cherish, today and all days, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, ’til death us depart, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my troth.”

Aileen gasped, hands shaking slightly as she repeated the words back to him.

“Ye may kiss the bride.” Euan grinned, his palms up as he gestured for them to complete the ceremony.

Barclay leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It was only a brief touch, but it burned like a brand.

“I now pronounce ye husband and wife. Congratulations!”

A cheer went up among the household staff. Diego and Antonio both clapped Barclay on the back and kissed Aileen’s cheeks. Barclay quickly pushed them away and led her back to the house, where a wedding breakfast was set out.

Aileen looked up at Barclay. “Why were ye glaring at me earlier? Did I do something wrong?”

Barclay took a deep breath, giving her a strained smile. “No, o’ course not. Ye’re free to disport wi’ whomever ye like, I suppose, but I would ha’ thought that ye would refrain at yer own marriage ceremony.”

“Disport? I dinnae ken wha’ ye’re on aboot.”

Barclay sighed. “Dinnae take me for a fool. I saw ye makin’ eyes at Diego.”

Aileen laughed, absolutely taken by surprise. “Wha’? I wasnae making eyes at him. I was simply surprised that he had such an elaborate ribbon for the handfasting ceremony.”

Barclay frowned at her. “So it was the ribbon ye were smiling at?”

“Aye.”

“Oh.”

He looked the slightest bit sheepish. Aileen smiled, suddenly feeling optimistic about this marriage. “Are ye reassured the noo? Can we eat our breakfast?”

He tightened his hold on her hand. “O’ course. Let us eat.”

The meal was surprisingly joyful for only having five celebrants, four of whom were male. They all seemed to put themselves out to amuse her.

So this is how it feels to be the center of attention.

Aileen sighed with happiness, her face hurting from all the smiling she was doing. Suddenly Euan got serious and clapped his hands, calling the meeting to order. He got to his feet, picking up his tankard of ale.

“First of all, I’d like to offer a toast to the bride and groom—my hearty congratulations to ye both. Second, I propose that we write to the chieftain at once and inform him of yer new status. Perhaps he will consent to help us with Mr. Gilroy.”

Barclay looked to Aileen and shrugged. “We can but try.”

* * *

Before they could set about writing to the chieftain, an invitation was delivered for Barclay to have dinner with him at his Edinburgh townhouse.

“What do you suppose he wants?” Antonio fingered the invitation suspiciously.

“The same thing we do, I would conjecture,” Barclay replied. “To talk.”

“Well, then. If you are to apprise him of your new status tonight, then you can use this afternoon to consummate your union,” Diego said.

Barclay flushed, his eyes flicking to Aileen, who looked embarrassed. “We have the marriage contract. We dinnae need to?—”

“Do not be foolish, Barclay,” Diego interrupted. “This man will use any excuse to deny your claim. Do not give him one.”

Barclay was still looking at Aileen, who avoided everyone’s eyes.

“I suppose my wife and I shall discuss it.”

“Aye. I have taken the liberty of preparing a marriage chamber for ye. My housekeeper will take ye to it the noo,” Euan said, toasting them once again.

Barclay held out his arm. “Shall we, my lady?”

Aileen got to her feet and took his arm. She nodded but did not say a word. Barclay turned to lead her away, following the housekeeper—not upstairs as he had supposed, but outside. The lawyer had quite a large property, being as it was his primary home. The housekeeper led them across the lawn to a small cottage at the bottom of the property.

She opened the door for them and stepped back with a smile. “Yer luggage has already been brought here. Someone will bring ye food later.”

Barclay thanked her before ushering Aileen in and closing the door behind them. He took a deep breath before turning to face her.

“We should talk.”

She lifted her chin and then dropped it. “Aye.”

He led her to the parlor, looking around at the wooden benches, before gesturing to a cushion-covered chair for her to sit on. He lowered himself onto the bench beside her with a sigh.

“Weel, here we are,” he said.

“I didnae see this trip ending in a marriage. It is difficult to fathom that I am someone’s wife.” Aileen shook her head in astonishment.

“ My wife.” Barclay felt a warmth spreading from the pit of his belly to every part of his body at the words. Finally, he had a family again. He looked up at her, biting his lip. “D’ye wish to…consummate?”

Aileen sighed. “I dinnae ken. If’n we do tha’, we cannae go back.”

Barclay frowned. “D’ye want to go back?”

“No. Aye. I dinnae ken.” She covered her face with her hands. “Everything has just happened so fast.”

He nodded and swallowed down his disappointment. “I understand.”

She looked dubious. “Do ye indeed?”

“Ye’re no’ sure o’ me. Ye want more time.”

She shot to her feet. “No, that isnae it at all. I am sure o’ ye. Ye’re an honorable man. ’Tis quite apparent. I just…I need to catch my breath.”

Barclay got to his feet and walked towards the window, his chest heavy, breath shallow. “I see.”

It’s not rejection.

Even as he tried to tell himself that it was not, he felt the sting of it like a lance to the shoulder. The warmth of her hand on his shoulder startled him, and he turned to find her behind him, staring earnestly up at him.

He cocked an eyebrow in inquiry.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered.

His entire being softened, shoulders coming down, and eyes losing their hard edge. He turned completely so they were facing each other. “And ye think I’m not?”

She took in a deep breath before shrugging with a wry glance up at him. “Ye dinnae look like ye are.” She chuckled, cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

He cupped her elbow in his palm and gazed at her, everything displayed for her to see: his hurt, loneliness, and need. She gasped, surging upward to press her lips to his clumsily. The steel band of his arms around her waist held her securely against him, and she sighed into his mouth, letting him take over the kiss.

In no hurry at all, Barclay explored her mouth with painstaking attention to detail. Every reaction was noted as he nipped at her bottom lip before suckling it into his mouth. The way her pupils dilated, her eyes going almost black with lust made his manhood twitch with lust. Her nipples pebbled against his chest as his tongue played inside her mouth, and she squirmed needily against him.

Hands trailing downward until they cupped her bottom, he picked her up, enjoying the squealing gasp that escaped her as she clung to him. He carried her easily to the bedchamber, despite her height.

Dropping her on the bed, he hovered over her, hand on his ties. “Ye do want this, do ye no’?”

She nodded, hand stretched out in entreaty. He pulled off his sark before putting one knee on the bed and leaning over her. He reached for the laces of her bonnet, pulling them apart with one determined tug as his eyes held hers. She lay, seemingly mesmerized, and let him undress her, only showing some self-consciousness when she lay naked before him. She reached up and covered her breasts; her cheeks flushed a deep red.

“Dinnae hide yersel’ from me, please.”

Slowly, she moved her hand away, putting it back on the bed. He breathed in deep, savoring the sight of her spread before him, so long and lean, svelte and graceful like a fox with her brown and white coloring. Running a hand up and down her arm, enjoying the smooth softness of her skin, he reached down and kissing the hollow of her elbow. She giggled. “Tha’ tickles!”

He smiled against her skin. “Trust me, Aileen, I’ll be doing a lot more than tickling ye before this day is through.”