Treasured (28 page)

“You are wearing Malcolm’s watch,” Isobel said, surprised and pleased. “My aunt will be happy.”

“It seemed too kind a gift not to wear it so I bought a key for it while—” He stopped abruptly. “Blast! I meant to give you this last night.” He turned and went to his jacket, pulling a square, flat box from an inner pocket.

“What is this?” Isobel asked in surprise as he held the box out to her.

“Open it and see.” She reached out tentatively, and he laughed. “Go on. It is something you will like—or, at least, I hope you will.”

Isobel opened the hinged lid and drew in a sharp breath. Inside, nestled on black velvet, lay two pearl earrings and a necklace of gold beads and pearls, centered by a single large creamy pearl pendant. “Jack! It’s beautiful.” She looked up at him, her eyes glowing.

“If a few pearls get me that expression, I can only wish I had bought you diamonds.”

“Silly.” She laughed and studied the pendant again, smoothing a finger over its slick surface. “Diamonds could not have been lovelier. But why? How? I did not expect anything like this.”

“I think a bridal gift is customary from a groom, is it not?”

“Yes, I suppose—though I don’t know how things are done in London. But surely you don’t go jaunting about the countryside with jewelry in your pocket in case you should decide to marry.”

“No. But I did go to Inverness, if you remember.”

“Inverness!” She stared at him. “Is that why you went to Inverness?”

“Yes.” He looked at her oddly. “Well, I had to buy a few things from the haberdashery and order some clothes; I did not come prepared for a long stay. And there was the watch key. But I needed the gift immediately, and I knew there would be nothing suitable in the village. Unfortunately, the selection was not terribly impressive, either.” He paused, frowning. “I seem to have shocked you.”

“No. I mean, well, yes, a bit; it was just that I thought—” Isobel broke off, suddenly realizing that she might just have stepped into a quagmire.

“Thought what?” Jack took the box and set it down on
the dresser. “Isobel . . . why did you think I went to Inverness?”

“I thought . . . well, that you had gone to visit a . . . a place where . . . that you intended to, you know . . .”

“No, I don’t know.” He stopped, struck. “Did you think I had gone looking for a bordello?” He began to laugh.

“It is the sort of thing men do,” Isobel retorted defensively. “You were about to be married.”

“Is that a Scots wedding custom?” He laughed harder. “A week of debauchery before the ceremony?”

“No, of course not. But Aunt Elizabeth said—”

“I am
positive
I did not tell your aunt I was going to Inverness to visit a light-skirts.” His laughter had died, but his eyes were still merry.

“You did not tell anyone why you were going, so how was I supposed to know?”

“You did not ask.”

“I presumed if you had wanted me to know, you would have told me. When Aunt Elizabeth said that it was probably the sort of thing one did not tell a lady, I realized that you must have gone there to, to satisfy your needs. . . .” She shrugged and looked away. “It does not matter, really.”

“I can see that it does not.” He crooked his finger beneath her chin to tip up her face. “Jealous, my dear?”

“No, of course not.”

“I don’t think I believe you.” His eyes smiled down into hers. “It’s all right. I find I like a little jealousy in a woman.” He kissed her lightly. “I did not seek out a woman in Inverness. I admit I do have needs—and they seem to have grown more urgent since I reached Baillannan.” He slid his
hands slowly up and down her back. “But the only one who can satisfy them is you.”

“Oh.” Isobel leaned against him, hiding the happy relief on her face. “I did not like to think that you had done what we did with another woman.”

“I’m not entirely sure that I have ever done exactly what we did.” He pressed his lips against the top of her head. “Is that why you were so annoyed with me the night I returned?”

Isobel sighed and nodded. “Yes,” she admitted miserably. “I am sorry for what I said. I did not mean—”

“That you did not know me? But you were right; you did not,” he said lightly.

Isobel raised her head, her eyes glinting mischievously. “I believe I know you somewhat better now.”

“Indeed.” He kissed her again, more deeply. “Now, turn around and let us see how the bauble looks on you.”

She faced the mirror obediently, and Jack fastened the necklace around her throat. Sliding his arms around her waist, he pulled her back against him as he studied her image in the mirror.

“It looks just as I thought it would.”

“It is beautiful. Thank you.” She raised her hand to stroke the lustrous pearl again, then frowned. “This looks—” She turned to study him. He had dressed for dinner, and the usual snow-white cravat was in place around his neck, but it was centered by a plain gold pin. “Where is your tiepin? The pearl.”

“You know my tiepins by sight?” He raised his brows. “I am flattered.”

“Is this it? You took it from your pin to make the necklace?”

“Yes. None of the necklaces they had were adequate, and
neither were the jewels they had in stock. But I thought the pearl eardrops were pretty enough, and this chain as well if we added a little something to it. I’m sorry,” he added somewhat stiffly. “I had nothing else to hand. I can find you a much better piece in London.”

“No! Oh, no!” Isobel covered the pendant protectively with her hand, as if he might snatch it from her neck. “I love it. I do not want another. It only makes it more special that you gave up something of yours for it.” She took his hand impulsively and went up on tiptoe to kiss him.

He grinned down at her. “Then I should tell you that the stones of your ring came from my cuff links.”

Isobel laughed and went back into his arms.

In the days that followed, Isobel encountered none of the problems of married life that she had envisioned. Indeed the only thing she wrestled with was a question of marital etiquette: What were the rules regarding where she slept? It seemed too bold to simply take up her place in his bed without his asking her. On the other hand, if she went to her bedroom instead and waited for him to come to her, might he not assume she did not want to be with him that night? And where was she to change clothes?

Fortunately, each night Jack began kissing her and pulled her into his room as soon as they reached the top of the stairs, so she had yet to face that decision. Every morning, Isobel slipped down the hallway to her room to dress, feeling vaguely guilty and illicit, hoping she would not have to face the embarrassment of running into one of the servants.

Gradually Jack’s room began to change. First a second chair appeared before the fireplace. A few days later, a vanity table with a delicate chair had been added. At the sight of it, a sweet warmth bubbled up in Isobel’s chest. Her silver-backed brush and comb lay in their mirrored tray on one side of the vanity. Her dish of hairpins sat beside it, and in front of her mirror were lined up her various pots and bottles of perfume and lotion.

“It looked rather awkward for you, standing in front of the dresser to put up your hair,” Jack explained stiffly.

“That was very thoughtful of you.” Isobel turned to him.

“Yes, well . . . it seemed more . . .” He looked around vaguely and adjusted a cuff.

“Practical,” Isobel finished for him, faintly amused by his sudden awkwardness.

“Exactly.” He hesitated. “I hope I did not presume too much in having them bring your things as well.” He gestured toward the vanity top, then turned to the dresser, where he seemed extraordinarily interested in straightening his own brush and comb into precise lines. “Of course, if you wish it, you have only to take them back. I . . . uh, it seems inconvenient . . . going to your room each morning to change. There is ample space in this room; my wardrobe is rather limited. Even after my things arrive from Inverness, there will be many vacant drawers. And the wardrobe is quite empty. I thought you might like, that it would be easier, if you were to put some of your clothes in here.” He stopped and finally turned back to her.

“Jack . . . are you asking me to share your bedroom?” Isobel smiled, her voice faintly teasing.

“Well, yes, I suppose I am. Of course, if you dislike the idea, there is no need—”

“No, I don’t dislike the idea,” Isobel interrupted, soft laughter bubbling up, and started across the room toward him. “I think it is a very good idea.”

“Well, then, that’s settled.” He grinned and swooped her up in his arms to carry her to bed.

It was, Isobel reflected, how their conversations often seemed to end. That, she found, was perhaps the best surprise in being married.

“And how is the bride?” Isobel looked up to see Meg lounging in the doorway of the study.

“Meg!” Isobel bounced up from her chair and went to hug her friend. “I am so happy to see you.”

“I brought Cook some herbs, so I thought I would stop in and see you as well.” Meg paused, smiling. “I was going to ask how you were doing since the wedding, but I can see from looking at you that everything is well.”

“Very well.” A broad smile stretched across Isobel’s face. “Oh, Meg, it is so well that it’s a little frightening.”

“Somehow I think that you did not stick to your intentions of a celibate marriage.” Meg’s eyes danced.

“No.” Pink tinged Isobel’s cheeks. “As it turned out, Jack convinced me to stray with very little effort. It is no doubt brazen of me, but I am excessively glad he did. I never dreamed what it would be like. I must seem quite mutton-headed, I know, as if I cannot hold to my convictions.”

“Nonsense. If you are happy, that is all that’s important. How can it be foolish to enjoy one’s marriage?”

“It will no doubt seem very foolish to me when he leaves for London.”

“Perhaps he will decide to stay. Maybe he is happy as well.”

“He seems to be.” Isobel gave a hopeful smile. “But this is new and entertaining right now. After a while, he will grow accustomed to it. Bored. People do. They always say that men enjoy the hunt, and once it is over they grow dissatisfied.”

“And who are these ‘they’? I am convinced not all men are like that. Why should he become bored?”

“Because he is used to life in the city. People, excitement, entertainment. There is little for him to do here. We have walked along the beach and to the castle. We even rode over to the standing stones. But there is little else to hold his attention.” Isobel paused, frowning. “Jack has started riding out every day. I worry that he is already growing bored. He has even taken to talking to the crofters, I hear.”

“Just because he likes to ride or admires the view doesn’t mean he is bored. There is nothing wrong with his being interested in the land or the people. Indeed, I would think it is just the opposite.”

“I would like to think so.” Isobel smiled and shrugged. “If not, well, I made my choice knowingly. I will have to accept it.”

“Are you worried about being left with a babe? There are ways—”

“No. Oh, no,” Isobel said hastily. “Indeed, just the opposite.” She laid a hand upon her stomach. “I always wondered
a bit, you know, what made women so enamored of the idea of a baby when it caused such pain. But now . . . I think about a little boy that looks like Jack running about, and it makes my heart swell with joy.”

“Then I wish very much that you will have it.” Meg reached out to take Isobel’s hand and squeeze it gently.

“Enough of me.” Isobel smiled, waving Meg to a seat. “Come, sit down and tell me all the gossip of the village. We had been a world apart here the last two weeks.”

They settled down for a cozy chat. When Meg left an hour later, Isobel could not interest herself in the accounts again. Talking to Meg about the possibility of Jack’s leaving Baillannan had left her feeling restless, and she prowled about the study. When she heard the screech of the side door closing and Jack’s footsteps in the hall, her heart lifted, and she went out to meet him, smiling.

“Isobel, my love.” He bent to kiss her. “I have been thinking of doing that all the way home.”

“You must have had a very dull ride.”