Treasured (24 page)

Jack smiled faintly. “I’m afraid I don’t know how.”

“Och, weel, I can teach ye, now, can’t I?”

“Yes, I suppose you can, at that. Very well. I shall take you up on your offer.”

Oddly, Jack felt more settled after his talk with Angus McKay. However, his stomach was still too jangling with nerves to face one of the cook’s heavy breakfasts, so he took
only a cup of tea and went to his room to get ready for his trip to the church.

An hour later, washed, clean-shaven, and dressed in his finest suit, he was standing in the drawing room, staring out the window and once again waiting for the minutes to crawl by. The sound of a woman’s voice at the door pulled him from his reverie. “Mr. Kensington?” A woman he had never before seen stood in the doorway, studying him. Her hair was a cloud of dark red curls, and her wide-set eyes were a startling gold. Small and curvaceous, she did not possess the aristocratic beauty of Isobel, but something about her was vibrant—a look, a stance, a quality that set her apart. She was the sort of woman whom it was impossible not to notice.

“Yes?”

“I am Meg Munro. Coll’s sister.” She came forward. He noticed she did not extend her hand, but continued to observe him in the same grave way. He had the distinct feeling he was being measured.

“I see. How do you do?” He gave her a polite bow. This, then, was the girl who Isobel had said grew up with her. She was certainly a far cry from the towering, blond Coll, but Jack suspected that she was as little prepared to like him as her brother.

“Miss Rose and I are going to lead you to the kirk.”

“Lead me?”

“’Tis the custom.” Meg shrugged. “Isobel’s cousins and Coll will take her there from my home. Her aunt and I will take you from here. That way you will not see each other until the wedding.”

“Everyone seems at great pains to avoid that.”

“Aye.” A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Aunt
Elizabeth is determined to follow the rules. She wants the best for Isobel.” Meg paused, the humor falling away. “As we all do.”

Jack quirked his eyebrow. “Miss Rose is most beloved.”

“She is. Especially by me.” Meg came closer, and the steel in her eyes took him aback. “Take good care of Isobel, Mr. Kensington. She deserves more than a farce of a marriage.”

“Miss Rose is under no duress to marry me.”

“If you call saving her home and her people no duress, then I suppose not. But dinna hurt her, or you will regret it.” Meg regarded him steadily. “Ask anyone around Baillannan, and they will tell you, I am not a woman to cross.”

Jack returned her gaze, torn between amusement and amazement. “I believe you, Miss Munro. And I assure you, I have no interest in harming Miss Rose in any way. She will have exactly what she wants.”

“I am glad.” Meg gave him a merry smile. “Well, then, we’d best be going to the kirk now, shouldn’t we?”

Elizabeth met them at the door, her cheeks pink with excitement, and they rode to the church. There the two women led him down the aisle to the front pew, where Isobel sat with her cousins. Her head was slightly bowed, revealing the vulnerable curve of her white neck. She raised her head and turned as Jack and his escorts reached the pew. She was pale, her gray eyes huge in her face. She stood up to face him, slim and lovely in the pale blue dress, her expression a mix of pride, uncertainty, and determination.

In that moment, the knot in his chest dissolved, the uncertainty and unease melted away, and Jack reached out to take Isobel’s hand.

I
sobel’s stomach had been churning
all morning. She would have liked to blame the unaccustomed drinks of whiskey she had imbibed the night before, but the truth, she knew, was simply that she was terrified. But when Jack smiled at her and took her hand, his warmth engulfing her icy fingers, her insides finally began to settle. It seemed peculiar that his presence should give her strength, given that so many of her worries revolved around him. But though he gave nothing of himself away, that very implacability had a rock steadiness.

Isobel said her vows with a steady voice, keeping her eyes on Jack’s face. She glanced down as he slid the ring on her finger and was surprised to see that the jeweled band was not the ring Elizabeth had given him. She looked up at him questioningly, but the minister was speaking again, and Jack kissed her, sealing their vows.

The courtyard of Baillannan was already filling with wagons and carts of all sizes when Jack and Isobel arrived at the house. Inside the barn, now scrubbed clean, food had been set up on long tables at one end, with the center left empty for dancing. Most people were grouped near the entrance, and they swarmed to Isobel and Jack as soon as they stepped inside.

Isobel found herself stumbling over the words as she introduced her husband to the guests. It was, she thought, entirely strange to refer to Jack that way. But at least the lack of ease between Jack and her seemed to have disappeared with the wedding, and she was grateful to once more be able to talk and laugh with him. The rumble of her stomach reminded her that she had been too nervous to eat today, and she cast a longing glance toward the tables of food at the back. There was no hope of eating, though, pinned in as they were by well-wishers.

In the background Isobel could hear the pipes tuning up, and after a long wail that made Jack start and swing around, the pipers began to play. Isobel laughed as she watched Jack regarding the men in astonishment. He glanced back at her and joined in her laughter. “I had heard tales, but I had not imagined such a caterwauling.”

“You will get used to it soon enough,” she retorted unfeelingly. “There will be dancing all night.”

“One is expected to dance to this?”

“Well, not this song. It is a lament. But to others, yes.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Just wait. Soon enough they’ll drag you out onto the floor.”

“Making a fool of the Englishman?” He grinned. “I studied all the graces, my dear, including dancing.”

“Not dances like these.” Isobel laughed.

Jack leaned in, his eyes warm. “Will you give me the first waltz?”

Isobel ignored the flutter his closeness caused and put on a wide-eyed look of shock. “Goodness, no, we have no waltzes here in Kinclannoch. ’Tis far too scandalous. Why, since Andrew told Mrs. Grant that he had waltzed in London, she is convinced that he is going straight to hell. I have never waltzed.”

Jack curled his arm around her waist, pulling her against his side, and murmured into her ear, “I shall be happy to teach you, my dear. I think you will find it most enjoyable.”

The look in his eyes suggested that he was thinking of teaching her something other than a dance. Isobel felt suddenly a little breathless. She was saved from having to respond by her aunt and Meg, who swept them out onto the floor to join the set in the first reel. Afterward, her hand was claimed by first her cousins, then Coll, and Jack turned to partnering Aunt Elizabeth, Meg, and seemingly every other woman in the building.

He did well enough in the first reel or two, which were typical country dances, but as the songs and the dances grew more Scottish, his performance provided everyone with much hilarity. Isobel was relieved to see that Jack was laughing as much as anyone else. He was going a long way, she thought, toward making himself liked by the locals. Though she told herself she had no reason to care one way or the other, she could not help but be pleased and proud.

Her first time off the dance floor, she was surrounded by
a number of the crofter wives, all of whom apparently had bits of wisdom to impart to the bride. Isobel gave a fleeting wistful thought to the feast at the other end of the room, then settled in to listen with good humor. She was surprised a few minutes later when a hand slipped in between her and Mrs. Grant, handing Isobel a plate piled high with food. Her eyes widened and she half turned, looking up, and met Jack’s twinkling gaze.

“Och, now there’s a lad worth keeping,” one of the women said.

“A husband must provide, must he not?” Jack tossed back, giving them all the full extent of his smile.

“Thank you,” Isobel said in a heartfelt way. “How did you know?”

He laughed. “By the emptiness of my own stomach. I thought you might have been as little able to eat as I was.” From the whiff of alcohol on his breath, Isobel suspected that he had located the barrel of whiskey as well as the table of food.

Mrs. Grant laughed. “I remember my own wedding day; I dinna eat a thing, you ken? I nearly fell doon at the altar, I was that weak. Davie had to grip my arm to keep me upright.”

The other women hastened to add remembrances of their own wedding days and the nerves that had afflicted them, each seemingly more horrifying than the last. Jack listened to each one gravely, shaking his head in amazement. But when he turned to Isobel and winked, bending over to kiss her cheek, she could not control the little flip of her heart. He smiled at the other women. “Dear ladies, I must leave, for I can see Miss Munro heading this way,
and I must escape before she inveigles me into embarrassing myself on the dance floor once again.”

As soon as he left, the women immediately began to catalog Jack’s favorable characteristics, some of them so frank they turned Isobel’s cheeks scarlet, which set them all off into laughter. Isobel was grateful that Meg rescued her, pulling her away from the cluster on the pretext of an important task and leading her out into the yard.

“Thank you!” Isobel exclaimed. It was edging toward evening, the sun hanging so low behind the hills that only a glow of light was along the horizon. The evening breeze cooled her flushed cheeks, and she sank down on a stone bench beside the barn wall, letting out a sigh.

“I thought you might like a bit of peace.” Meg sat down beside her and stretched her legs out in front of her.

“Yes—and a chance to eat.” Isobel laughed and dug into the food.

“Everyone wants to talk to the bride. I noticed Mr. Kensington brought you your bite. That was good of him.”

Isobel nodded, and not looking at Meg, she said carefully, “What did you think of him?”

“Kensington?” Meg tilted her head consideringly. “I can see why you are tempted.”

“Meg . . . I’m serious.”

“As am I. He is a fine figure of a man, and he has a way about him. If he were not your man, I wouldn’t mind a bit of a flirt with him.”

“Just a flirt? Nothing more?”

“Nae.” Meg shook her head and looked a trifle wistful. “Cam Frasier told me I have a heart of stone. He may
be right.” She shrugged. “But I think a number of women would take him up on something more.”

“No doubt they have,” Isobel said tersely, and poked at the potato on her plate.

Meg glanced at her, frowning. “Do you mean he’s been sneaking about with some other woman?”

“Not here. Not sneaking either, really. But he went to Inverness.”

“Ah, I see. You think he found some doxy there.” Meg shrugged. “Did you ask him why he went there?”

“No! I could not!” Isobel turned a shocked face to her. “He would not tell me, anyway. He was very evasive about it when he bid me good-bye, which is why I feel so certain that was his reason for going. Besides, to ask him would make it seem that I care whether he was dallying with some light-skirts. And I don’t. I mean, I shouldn’t. We agreed that we would have separate lives.”

Meg studied her friend for a long moment, her eyes warm with concern. “Isobel . . .”

“No.” Isobel set her jaw. “I will not have you feeling sorry for me. I will be fine. I have made my bed and I’ll lie in it.”

“Or not.” Meg sent her a sideways glance, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

Isobel relaxed and chuckled. “Or not.”

“Ladies!” They looked up to see Cousin Gregory walking toward them across the yard. “What are you doing out here? Hiding from all your admirers?”

“Just taking a wee rest. And giving Isobel a chance to eat.”

“I can see why you sneaked out. It’s a crush in there. Isobel, you are too popular by half. I have been able to get only
one dance with the bride. You would think a cousin would get more consideration.”

“I like that!” Meg joked. “You want another dance with Isobel and you have not asked me to dance a single time.”