Authors: Leigh Greenwood
Gavin was dressed in the Carlisle plaid, a bold combination of blue and green with thin stripes of red and yellow. Hat, coat, tartan, and kilt were a blaze of color against the pure white of his waistcoat. His muscled calves strained against dark blue socks that came to his knees and exposed the lower half of his powerful thighs below the hem of the kilt, leaving no doubt as to his masculinity or the power of his body.
It was a dazzling ensemble and Sara felt agog with excitement. This breath-taking man was her husband, and she renewed her vow to overcome whatever it was that still kept them apart.
“You have thrown down the gauntlet to the local beauties right and proper,” Gavin said, taking in the picture Sara presented with expert eyes. “They’ll be reduced to biting their nails and blaming their dressmakers for making them look a dowd.”
Sara knew her glow of happiness was too obvious, and she knew it was unsophisticated to long for her husband’s approval, but she didn’t care. She had spent a lot of time puzzling over what she should wear tonight, and she was pleased to have succeeded. It was worth any amount of work to have Gavin notice her like this.
She neither wore a wig nor had she powdered her hair, but everything else about her appearance was fashioned according to the latest Paris styles, and spoke eloquently of rich fabrics and expensive London modistes. Her gown was cut daringly low, but a ruffle in the bodice kept it from being provocative. The small waist over the enormous hoop emphasized the daintiness of her figure. An overskirt in deep blue velvet was pulled back to display a white silk underskirt, decorated with blue silk flowers that matched the color of her eyes.
“I hope I’m not overdressed, but I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me either.”
“Any man would take pride in having you for his wife.”
Any man except you, Sara thought. Aloud she said, “You look rather splendid yourself.”
Gavin laughed. “Let us agree that our clothes are a success. Shall we stun our guests with our magnificence?”
You don’t need clothes to stun anyone, Sara thought, her body riveted by the electricity which flowed through her fingers when she touched his arm. He had hardly touched her since that night in Edinburgh, she had barely seen him, and the effect was sharper for the time spent waiting. She would have liked to lock the doors against the hordes of strangers and keep him all to herself, but she knew she couldn’t. The next step in her campaign depended upon her success tonight. If the community began to see her as an inseparable and invaluable counterpart to Gavin, maybe he would, too.
Sara’s excitement grew as the guests arrived and Gavin made them welcome. She knew he had come to accept her as his wife, but for the first time, he was presenting her with a note of pride in his voice. And pride of possession could be seen in his eyes when he looked at her. Her brain sang with happiness, and she had all she could do to pay attention to the guests as he introduced them to her.
Only one guest disturbed the decorum of the evening. Sara saw the flaming hair and heard the throaty laugh before she saw Colleen Fraser.
“Gavin, luv,” she virtually shouted, breaking through the line instead of waiting for those ahead of her to move on. “The place doesn’t look the same. You expecting a visit from Cumberland?”
“Just you,” Gavin replied, no more troubled by the hated name than Colleen. “My wife decided you should not be allowed to outshine your surroundings.” Colleen laughed in her seductive alto.
“Is this the blushing bride?”
I refuse to blush, Sara thought, wondering if she would ever escape from the shadow of flaming redheads. She pinned a smile to her lips, but her whole being reacted with pure antagonism. She didn’t like Colleen, and it had nothing to do with her red hair.
“Yes, this is Lady Carlisle. Colleen Fraser.”
“A skinny bit of a lass, isn’t she?” Colleen said, squaring her shoulders, the better to contrast her ample figure with Sara’s trim one.
“Gold is valued for its scarcity, coal for its abundance,” Sara said, before she was even conscious of the thought. The atmosphere in the room, as well as Gavin’s body, tensed as Colleen’s eyes flashed in anger, but Sara refused to back down. She’d face Gavin’s anger later, but she wouldn’t be held in contempt by this redheaded hussy, and certainly not in her own home.
“My niece has never learned manners,” Donald Fraser said, as he advanced toward Sara in his niece’s wake. “’T would be a kindness tae me if ye would overlook her behavior. My sister died giving her birth, and I’m afraid the rest of us spoiled her, her being the only girl and pretty into the bargain.”
Sara allowed Gavin to smooth over the awkward moment, which he did despite the exasperation that lurked in his eyes, but she didn’t fail to notice that Colleen favored her with an interrogatory glance.
“I want the first reel,” the redhead said, turning back to Gavin. “We always lead.” It was more of a challenge to Sara than an explanation.
“I don’t know the dance, so I’m glad Gavin will have a partner worthy of his skill. Your, uh,
amplitude
won’t slow you down, will it?’ Sara asked, staring meaningfully at Colleen’s enormous bosom. Fraser’s crack of laughter stalled Colleen’s threatened outburst.
“We’d better move on, lassie. Ye have been bested in this encounter.”
“I’ll wait for ye,” Colleen said seductively to Gavin. “It’ll be nice tae feel yer arms about me again.”
Sara said nothing, but her smile became more forced.
“Pay no attention to her,” Fraser advised, following his niece with fond eyes. “She’s a little high-spirited at times, but she is a bonnie lassie.”
“I’m sure she is,” Sara assured him. “I’m so glad she could come.”
“Try to remember she’s our guest,” Gavin hissed under his breath.
“I will, when she remembers you are my husband,” Sara hissed back. She didn’t want to anger Gavin, not when the evening had started off so well, but she would not allow
any
woman to pursue her husband before her very eyes.
There were more guests to be greeted, and even though Sara felt Gavin’s anger recede with the resumption of his duties, her high hopes for the evening began to fade.
The dancing had begun before the last guests arrived, but if Sara thought Colleen would wait until the end of the set to commandeer Gavin, she was mistaken. He had no sooner moved from his post then she uttered the heartfelt cry, “At last!” left her place in the line, and dragged him off to take the place of an accommodating young man who obligingly relinquished his place in the set.
“Looks as though we have both been deserted,” Sara said to the rejected man, hoping she didn’t sound as envious as she felt. She forced herself to move among her guests, speaking to the ladies, trying to fix their names in her memory, and keeping her thoughts off Gavin and the buxom redhead who was his partner. But her eyes continued to seek him out, and after her anger faded, she began to watch him in admiration. It was impossible not to be impressed by his looks or his skill at the dance.
Sara had never seen him in a kilt, but she decided she liked it. The glimpses of his powerful thighs as the steps of the dance lifted the skirt increased her body temperature. She could see why the Scots were a lusty race. They were dressed for it.
The dance came to an end, and Sara wondered where she could hide so that it wouldn’t be noticed when Gavin danced with someone else, but to her utter amazement, he crossed the length of the room to reach her.
“Come,” he beckoned to her. “We’re going to lead the next set.”
“But I don’t know the figures,” Sara protested, even though she would have been willing to risk life and limb in a totally unfamiliar dance just to be near Gavin.
“It’s a country dance,” he told her. “You could perform the steps in your sleep.”
“If you’re sure,” but Sara had already headed toward the floor.
“You didn’t take long to make up your mind,” he said, an engaging look in his eyes.
“No, I didn’t, did I?” she said, and the dimples appeared. Sara couldn’t resist a glance at Colleen as she took her place at the head of the double line.
“We’ve been playmates since childhood,” Gavin said, noticing the direction of her gaze.
“She’s no longer a child, nor do I think she’s thinking of children’s games,” Sara replied, the tartness of acid sounding in her voice.
“No, she’s very much a woman,” Gavin replied, irrationally annoyed at both women for catching him between them. This was something he didn’t know how to handle, but he soon forgot Colleen and the tension her presence was creating. Sara looked unbelievably lovely, her charm and grace did him credit, and she was proving herself a most skillful dancer.
“I must congratulate you on the success of your party,” Gavin said when the dance brought them together. “You seem to have emptied every house within miles.”
“Mary tells me they’ve had few parties of late, what with the war and the scarcity of money. I decided it was a good chance to use some of your London wealth.”
“You mean my father’s,” Gavin said bitterly.
“Or mine.” Gavin’s good humor fled completely at the reminder that he had turned Sara’s fortune over to his father. He had been feeling increasingly guilty about that lately, but no mere letter to his father would alter the situation. Sooner or later he was going to have to journey to London, and force the Earl to hand back Sara’s fortune. And quite frankly, Gavin didn’t know how he was going to do that.
The dance came to an end and Colleen made a spirited attempt to regain Gavin as her partner, but Sara was relieved to see that he proceeded to dance with a series of ladies, even though Colleen’s eyes unabashedly followed him around the floor. Sara’s guests were treated to the amusing spectacle of Colleen dancing with one man and staring doggedly at another. No one present seemed to take it amiss, but Sara could not master the feeling of irritation every time she saw those green eyes hungrily fixed on her husband. Sara had begun to feel very possessive about Gavin, and she resented Colleen’s proprietary attitude.
Sara’s temper wasn’t improved when Colleen finally snared Gavin for a Scottish reel. There was no possibility that Sara could have executed this intricate and highly complicated dance, but that was no reason why she had to enjoy watching Colleen dance her heart out, especially since her intent was obvious to everyone present. You shouldn’t let your rancor ruin your enjoyment of seeing such a dance well executed, she told herself, but she decided right then that she didn’t like the reel. It was vulgar.
She
wouldn’t be seen in public with her hair falling down and sweat on her brow.
Sara watched the swirling dancers with mixed feelings. She had worked hard to make sure no one was left uninvited, to prepare the foods they would most enjoy, and provide the right entertainment. From the shouts of laughter, the wail of the pipes, and the exertions of the dancers, she felt she had succeeded, but she had also succeeded in making herself feel more of a stranger than ever before. Though the music might stir her blood, finding an answering chord somewhere among her ancestors, she was more familiar with Bach and Scarlatti and the decorous behavior of Miss Adelaide Rachel’s Academy. The uninhibited drinking, dancing, and roistering good humor made her feel less a part of Scotland than ever before, and that was exactly the opposite of what she had intended.
She looked to where the bosomy redhead was leaning possessively on Gavin’s arm, and felt her heart ache. True, Gavin had not given her any encouragement, and it was also true that he had not spent more time with her than with others, but they were so comfortable together, so natural, so at ease, that Sara found herself resenting and envying their spontaneity.
It was a struggle for her to say just the right thing, to see that everything was done just as it ought, to learn more of Scotland, but it was second nature for that brazen redhead.
Yes, that red hair was part of it. Colleen Fraser was Clarice Wynburn and Symantha Eckkles all rolled into one, and Sara felt more inferior than ever before. And it didn’t matter how often Betty told her she was beautiful, or Mary told her she was making wonderful progress. She was doing it all for Gavin, and he seemed just as distant as ever.
“Tis a wonderful evening ye have given us,” Ian Fraser said, coming up to Sara’s elbow. With an involuntary exclamation of pleasure, Sara turned and welcomed him like a long-lost friend.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were still with the Prince.”
“I was, but we have just won a resounding victory over yer husband’s cousin, and the army’s moving North. I couldna pass without stopping.”
“How are the Prince and Lord George?”
“They’re no’ speaking at all just now, mostly because of that accursed Irishman,” Ian said furiously, “but they asked tae be remembered tae ye.”
“Ian!” A single ear-splitting cry was all the warning they received before Colleen and her flaming hair catapulted themselves into their midst. Ian staggered under the force of her assault, but he had braced himself instinctively at the sound of his name, and he didn’t end up on the floor as Sara fully expected.
“My dear cousin,” Ian murmured, “still the shy, quiet wee lass ye always were.” Colleen’s rich laughter ricochetted off the ceiling.
“What are ye doing here? Where have ye been?”
“I was explaining that when yer arrival interrupted me.” Colleen ignored his chastisement.