Page 12 of Hope in the Highlands (Seduced in Scotland #1)

To Hope’s amusement and Graham’s embarrassment, rumors began swirling overnight about the circumstances of their engagement. After escorting Hope and her sisters back to Lismore Hall the night before, Hope and her sisters had stayed up late into the night discussing all that had happened.

“How did he do it?” Grace asked, her legs curled beneath her as she sat across from Hope on her bed. Faith was pacing before the fireplace, arms behind her back. Usually, Grace was more pragmatic, but something about the bonfire seemed to have captured her imagination. “Was it romantic?”

“It was different, I suppose, from how I always assumed a proposal would be.”

“How so?”

“Well,” she said, tilting her head. “I guess I always assumed it would take place indoors. In a sitting room or parlor. And the gentleman would be on bended knee.”

“He stood?” Faith asked, her brow scrunching. “The whole time?”

“Yes, but there wasn’t really an opportunity to kneel,” she said defensively before turning back to Grace. “But it was rather lovely all the same.”

Grace smiled.

“It just seems rather sudden, doesn’t it?” Faith said, coming forward. “And serendipitous.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, Lismore Hall was his ancestral home once, wasn’t it? Perhaps he’s angling to get it back.”

Hope’s mouth fell open as she stared at her sister.

“Faith!” Grace chided. “How could you say such a thing?”

“No, no,” Hope said, reaching for Grace’s hand. If she were honest, Hope had worried about the same thing. “It crossed my mind too.”

Faith had the decency to appear sorry, while Grace shook her head.

“Well, it’s a foolish idea. Mr. MacKinnon has been taken with you since the day we arrived. Everyone has noticed it.”

“Is that so?” Hope said with a smirk. Her gaze fell on Faith. “Do you think so?”

Faith shrugged as she leaned against the bedpost behind Grace. Her head rested on the dark wood.

“I suppose so. He has sought you out a number of times. And not very subtly.”

Hope smiled, but even as her sisters assured her that Graham’s intentions were true, she still felt unsure. Even if Graham was marrying her for Lismore Hall, that didn’t mean that it was the only reason. The heat that lingered between them wasn’t a facade. Was it?

Hope spent the rest of the night dreaming about Graham. In her dreams, she was constantly searching for him, but even when she caught glimpses of him in the distance, she could never reach him. When she woke the next day, she felt a deep restlessness in her bones. Belle had been asleep when they arrived the previous night, and though they had all slept rather late in that morning, she still hadn’t risen by noon.

Thankfully, by the time Graham came for luncheon that day Hope had stifled her foolish worries. He had arrived to discuss the engagement with Belle but, upon realizing she hadn’t woken yet, decided to eat with Hope and her sisters, all of whom had been listening to a very cheery Rose explain what had been said the night before, after the engagement had been announced.

“Supposedly, Graham serenaded you with a song, pledging his deepest love and loyalty for the rest of his life,” Rose said before laughing. “Jeanne told everyone that Graham was smitten with his new English bride.”

“It only happened last night,” Graham said, appearing to be neither amused nor annoyed by the rumors, which pleased Hope for some reason. “How are there so many stories already?”

“Twelve hours is plenty of time for rumors to spread,” Faith said over her teacup before taking a sip.

“Jeanne was quite happy about it,” Rose said, forking her eggs. “She kept telling everyone you took up poetry to impress Hope.”

Faith choked on her tea as Grace hid her face. Hope bit her lip, worried Graham wouldn’t appreciate being teased. His coffee cup paused midair as he squinted at Rose.

“My cousins have a sense of humor,” he said, surprisingly unbothered.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” Hope said tentatively. “It’s one of the better pieces of gossip I’ve been a part of and it’s hardly vindictive.”

He gave her a contemplative look, and she smiled at him nervously.

“Amusing, is it? To picture me groveling at your feet, reading some daft poem?”

If he had seemed genuinely angry, she’d have backed down, but she saw the twinkle of amusement in his eye, and it prompted her to let out a very unladylike snort. Her hand shot to cover her face.

“Yes,” she said, clearing her throat. “It is. And since there’s no stopping gossip, all you can do is laugh at it.”

“Laugh at what?” Belle asked as she entered the dining room, followed as always by Andrews.

Belle wore a tangerine-colored gown with white floral embroidery and a gauzy overlay. Her hands were adorned in her usual emerald rings and a pair of teardrop pearl earbobs swung precariously from her lobes as she hobbled to her chair. She paused when she saw Graham, seated near the head of the table.

“MacKinnon. What are you doing here this early?” she asked. “Surely you returned home after you escorted the girls home last night.”

“I did,” he said, his voice was serious as he stood up.

His gaze flickered to Hope who stood as well.

“Aunt Belle,” she started, coming around the table to Graham’s side. “I’m afraid we have some news to share.” Belle’s eyes widened and the corner of her mouth pulled up in trepidation. “I think perhaps we should speak with you in private.”

“Nonsense, my girl, nonsense,” she said, moving around both Hope and Graham to take her place at the head of the table, her cane clicking loudly against the ground. She sat with deliberate slowness and squirmed slightly, making herself comfortable before giving them her full attention. “Now, my dear. What news do you wish to share?”

“Well—”

Graham reached for Hope’s hand.

“We’re to be wed,” he said, interrupting her.

Hope’s brow lifted as she turned to her side. Graham had a very serious expression on his face and Hope felt the same vague sense of worry she had felt last night creep into her heart. But the loud thwack of Belle’s cane broke her concentration.

“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” Belle said, her eyes locked on Graham’s stoic face. “I have not heard such wonderful news in ages. We shall put it in all the papers. The Herald , the London Times , even the Evening Standar d.”

“The Times ?” Hope said, a trickle of concern edging into her spine. “Is there really a need to announce to the entire country?”

“Of course there is. You’re the granddaughter of an earl, my dear. The peerage should know.”

Hope nodded, unsure why she was so hesitant. Perhaps she didn’t wish for Pennington to know about her engagement.

Graham’s large hand squeezed her fingers.

“If you’d rather not, we needn’t post it,” he said.

The expression on his face was veiled, but Hope worried that he mistook her hesitance for some sort of shame and that certainly wasn’t it. She shook her head.

“No, of course we should,” she said, facing her aunt. “Put it in all the papers.”

“Wonderful!” Belle said. “Andrews! Set up my correspondence. I’ll take breakfast in my office. I’ve a number of letters to write.” Her cane wobbled slightly back and forth as she struggled to stand. “What is the date?”

“Oh, well, since our courtship was rather short, I think it would be fitting if we had a longer engagement,” Hope said.

“How long?”

“A year I suppose,” she said, only to be met with a deafening silence. Looking back and forth between Belle and Graham, both appeared stunned. She frowned. “It’s not an unheard-of length of time for an engagement.”

“Yes, my dear, but seeing as you’ve already experienced a long engagement prior to this one,” Belle said. “I would assume you’d wish to be over with this rather quickly.”

“They were never engaged,” Faith said, earning her an elbowing from Grace. “What? They weren’t.”

“A year is far too long,” Graham said, looking down at her, before adding softly. “A month is too long.”

Hope’s cheeks warmed as she grasped his meaning, but she still felt certain that they couldn’t be married in a month. She pulled her hand away from his so that she could think straight.

“A month would hardly supply enough time to sort everything out. Dresses and flowers, invitations, licenses.”

“We’re in Scotland. We could go to the blacksmiths in Glencoe and be done with it today.”

“I don’t wish to be done with it,” Hope said firmly, aware of their audience. She took a deep breath before explaining. “I was raised in large part by my grandmother, and she was a woman who believed strongly in propriety. Out of respect for her, I would like to adhere to a traditional length of engagement.”

“I agree with MacKinnon,” Belle said, lifting her chin. “Tomorrow is good. Today would be better.”

“We are not marrying today,” she said, leaning around Graham’s large frame to glare at her aunt.

“Two weeks then,” Graham said, causing Hope’s attention to snap back to him.

Her hand fell to the back of the closest chair to steady herself. Two weeks? Had he gone mad?

“Absolutely not. It is impossible.”

“One week,” he countered, taking a step towards her likesome predatory animal.

“Half a year,” she offered, pulling out the chair to block his advance.

“Tomorrow.”

“Three months and not a day more,” she said quickly. She glanced around the room, silently pleading for reassurance. “It’s not unreasonable, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” Faith said firmly, for which Hope was grateful, but Graham was quick to disagree.

“It’s too long.”

“Yes, but it’s respectable, MacKinnon,” Belle said, causing both Hope and Graham to turn to her. Belle focused on Graham with an intent gaze. “And it’s what my sister would have wanted. Very well. Three months it is.”

Graham inhaled through his nostrils, which flared slightly as his eyes darted back between Hope and Belle. For a moment, Hope wondered if he would refuse…but then he exhaled harshly and nodded.

“Three months.” Putting his hands behind his back, he eyed the chair that separated him from Hope. She hastily pushed it back under the table. “Then I’ve some correspondence to attend to as well. Hope, would you see me out?”

“Ah, yes, of course,” she said, following him out of the dining room without looking back.

A footman came up and handed Graham his coat and hat. A light rain had started sometime since his arrival.

“That’s all, thank you,” he said as the footman disappeared.

Hope thought that it was strange for him to dismiss the footman so abruptly. But she did not have long to dwell on it before a large hand wrapped around her wrist and whipped her around. Graham held her against his solid body and a noise escaped her lips.

“Three months?” he said, his mouth hovering above hers. He smelled like honey and she could almost taste it on her tongue. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“I-I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“You will,” he growled. “I’ll not go through this torture alone.”

“What torture?”

But her words evaporated as he pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her so deeply and earnestly that all sense escaped her. Without thinking, her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, her fingers curling against the fabric of his coat that was spread taut across the muscles of his back. His mouth pulled and sucked at her tongue, luridly coaxing it out until she was a quivering mess in his arms.

Then he let her go.

Unsteadily, she tried to find her footing. After several deep breaths she looked at him. A wicked grin was playing at the edge of his mouth, his eyes dark with sensual tension.

“Good day, Hope,” he said with the barest of nods before he turned and exited the house.

“Good bye,” she said softly as the large wood door closed of its own weight.

Oh dear. What had she done? Three months seemed like an eternity now when she thought of how long she would have to wait before she could truly give herself to him. While a part of her was grateful to have so much time before their wedding to prepare herself, another part wondered if perhaps it was too long a wait.

Stop it. She needed to reel in her craving, lest she give any truth to her worry about being a wonton. Although Graham hardly seemed put off by her desires. The memory of all of their kisses, how he held her so possessively, made her long for things she barely even understood.

Shivering at the image she conjured up in her mind, she pressed her cold hand to her hot cheek and turned, going back to the dining room. If they were going to wed in three months, she needed to begin wedding preparations immediately. When she re-entered the room, she saw that her sisters were already discussing the event.

“Hydrangeas should be in bloom during the wedding,” Grace was saying as she buttered a piece of toast. “A perfect flower for a wedding. Don’t you agree, Hope?”

“Hmm?” she said, coming around the table to take her seat. The kiss she had shared with Graham had distracted her, but she shook her head to clear it. “Oh no, Grace. Hydrangeas aren’t a wedding flower.”

“They’re not?” she asked, confused.

“Not according to Robert Tyas’s Language of Flora . Hydrangeas represent a heartless boaster,” Hope said. “I believe there’s a copy in the library.”

“I’ll get it,” Grace said, standing up from the table, hurrying out of the room.

Faith and Hope sat in silence for a moment before Faith spoke.

“Three months,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “He’s rather eager, isn’t he?”

Hope felt a touch of uncertainty crawl up her shoulders at her sister’s tone, but she tried to push it away.

“Yes,” she said, finishing her tea. “One would want that in a husband, no?”

Faith didn’t respond, and soon Grace was back with the book.

“I didn’t know there was an entire book on this subject,” she said, taking her seat again. “It covers everything from colors, to blooms to seasons. Every flower has a dozen meanings.”

“What do scarlet pimpernel mean?” Hope asked, pouring herself another cup of tea. “I’ve always liked them.”

“Amusement,” Grace said after searching the book for a moment. “I think that would be a clever flower to use.”

“What about yellow roses?” Faith asked. “There’s a dozen rose bushes in the garden.”

Grace flipped through the pages.

“While roses are generally connected to love,” she read. “Yellow ones represent jealousy.”

Faith frowned.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true. It says it right here,” Grace said, before turning to Hope. “Which other flowers will you choose?”

Hope reached for her spoon and added a swirl of honey to her tea before mixing it in. The idea of what flowers to choose had been something she’d thought about for a long time. After all, she’d spent years expecting to soon be engaged to Jacob. She had her favorites, but it didn’t seem right to pick the same ones as she had contemplated before.

“I think, perhaps I’ll use goldenrod. Bees are supposedly very attracted to goldenrod.”

“And you wish for a swarm to walk you down the aisle?” Faith asked sarcastically.

“No, of course not. But Graham is fond of bees and I think it would be nice to consider it.”

“What does goldenrod represent, Grace?”

She winced.

“Precaution. But perhaps you could add some white roses and daisies to balance it out. Worthiness and shared sentiments.”

“Do you share sentiments?” Faith asked, her tone unsure.

“Of course,” Hope said with a frown. “Why do you ask?”

“It just seems to be happening a bit fast, all of this.” She waved her hand in the room. “Don’t you think? We only arrived her a few weeks ago and now you’re engaged?”

“I was pre-engaged to Jacob for years and look how that turned out.”

“Yes, but Jacob Pennington wasn’t suspicious.”

Hope stared at her sister, the pinpricks of defensiveness scattering up her spine.

“How is Graham suspicious?”

“I don’t know,” Faith said, putting down her napkin. “I just get a feeling from him. Like he’s hiding something.”

“Like what?” Grace asked.

“If I knew, I’d explain it.”

Hope had long ago realized that Faith was firmly fixed in her beliefs that men were not to be trusted. But surely Graham had done nothing to deserve such distrust. Moreover, something in Hope made her feel rather protective of Graham and while she had her own worries, they were hardly Graham’s fault. Jacob was the one who had discarded her so easily, who had shamed her for her desires. He was why she found it harder to trust now. But she didn’t enjoy speaking about those doubts Jacob had planted in her heart. If she could smother them out of existence, she would. For the time being, she’d choose to ignore them.

“If you have no sound reason to suspect Graham of anything, I must insist you refrain from these suspicions. If you can’t stifle them completely, at least avoid saying them out loud.”

Though it wasn’t exactly a demand, a tension fell on the room. Grace stopped reading the book as she looked between the two of them. After a moment, Faith stood.

“Very well,” she said quietly as she turned to leave. It seemed as though she were offended.

“Faith, wait,” Hope tried, but the hem of her violet skirts disappeared around the doorway. Hope sighed loudly and looked at Grace. “For someone who speaks her mind so freely, she certainly doesn’t like to be challenged.”

“Perhaps she thought you were being too dismissive of her suspicions.”

“She has nothing to be suspicious about,” Hope argued. “She’s only trying to make me anxious. Faith has disliked men ever since that painter friend of hers, Donovan, ran away to Paris.”

Grace shrugged.

“Probably. But you’ve never quieted her before.”

“Well perhaps she should learn to quiet herself,” Hope said stubbornly, gazing down at her plate.

It didn’t help that Faith was adding to Hope’s own doubts. She wanted to believe that she and Graham genuinely got on, and they did—so there was really no reason to worry, was there?

Suddenly finding herself without an appetite, Hope stood herself and left the dining room, consumed by her thoughts.