Isla found herself liking the Marquess immediately. She laughed softly at his words, startled by the sound of her own amusement. There was a good humor about him, and the way he unsettled the Duke brought her a quiet satisfaction.
“Yer Graces. May you have a… happy union,” Callum said as he finally approached them, his arms crossed over his chest to make himself appear bigger, which was helpless next to the towering Duke. “A h-uile la sona dhuibh, ‘s gun la idir dona dhuibh! May all your days be happy ones!”
“I sure hope all our days are happy ones too,” Isla said as a tear prickled her cheek. “Mòran taing, Callum.”
After her Gaelic words of gratitude, she reached out and touched his hand, and all at once the rigid façade cracked. He pulled her into a fierce, brotherly embrace.
“I hope ye will be happy at Ealdwick, Isla,” he whispered into her hair. “And that ye will be proud of me. I will take good care of our sister, and our home when I return.”
“Always, Callum,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “I am always proud of ye, little brother. Just keep yer cool and the rest will come naturally.”
“Easier said than done!” He said with a belly laugh. “But a point well taken sister. Dinnae fash.”
“I always worry,” Isla said, her eyes cast down at her feet. “That is the one thing we can count on.”
He pulled back, his eyes glinting with fresh resolve as he turned to the Duke.
“Ye will take care of her,” he said, the words a low-pitched threat, “as ye promised.”
The Duke, unfazed, simply nodded. “She will be cared for. I have assured you of this thrice now.”
“Indeed,” Callum said as he backed away.
“It is time we are off,” the Duke said sharply as they exchanged their final farewells, his voice leaving no room for lingering goodbyes.
He led Isla to the waiting carriage outside the church. With a single, measured motion, he assisted her inside, his touch as formal and controlled as his expression.
The door closed behind them, and the carriage rolled away, carrying them into the beginning of a new—and uncertain—chapter.
The silence in the carriage was thick, making the rhythmic clop of hooves pound in Isla’s ears. The village streets gave way to the open countryside, and she tried—unsuccessfully—to distract herself by watching the trees blur past.
Her stomach twisted with nerves. She wished she’d eaten before the ceremony; her mouth was dry, metallic, and the velvet beneath her fingers felt oddly rough. It was all too much, too fast.
Opposite her, the Duke sat like a marble statue. Utterly still, perhaps even holding his breath. His profile, sharp against the bright window, betrayed nothing of the thoughts behind his cold, icicle-blue eyes.
Every minute felt like an hour. Isla was not one for idle conversation, preferring family, long walks in Scotland’s rolling hills, or a good book. Recalling the plot ofTwelfth Nightin her head, she realized it had been nearly an hour since leaving the church, and neither she nor the Duke had spoken a single word.
Finally, she couldn’t bear it any longer.
“You mentioned a son when we first met,” she said, her voice feeling a little too loud in the confined space after not using it. “The boy… he was not at the weddin’. Where is he?”
The Duke turned his head slowly from the window to meet her gaze, his profile a chiseled study in stone. “I sent him to the manor with his governess as soon as the false rumor reached me. I did not know what your brother might do, and my son need not witness it. That is why we left for Ealdwick in such haste this morning.”
Isla’s shoulders stiffened. “Did ye truly believe that Callum would endanger an innocent child?”
“Your brother’s first course of action was to challenge me to a duel,” he replied, his voice devoid of emotion. “It was a reckless act, and my precautions were justified. The only reason there was no duel is due to your…unconventionalintervention.”
“Aye, perhaps his course of action was a bit reckless,” she conceded. “But his heart was in the right place. He wanted to protect his loved ones.”
A short, sharp scoff escaped him as he removed his gloves. “A bit reckless is an understatement. And it seems that recklessness runs in the family, given that you threw yourself in front of a loaded pistol.”
“If memory serves me correctly, and it usually does, ye complimented me on me courage,” she countered, a spark of fire in her emerald eyes. “Ye said it was a virtue.”
“It was. Back then,” he agreed, turning to face her fully then, the distance between them suddenly feeling much smaller. “Butnow you are my wife, and you must be more prudent. Especially when it comes to my son.”
“I would never endanger an innocent boy,” she said, her voice soft yet firm.
“Good,” he said, the single word a command. He leaned back against the plush seat, and his next words were a cool, deliberate list of demands. “Because this marriage is mostly for him, Duchess. You will care for my son, and you will tend to the household matters as a duchess is supposed to. In two weeks, we will return to London. We will make a few public appearances to show a united front and dispel any remaining gossip about me and your sister. And when that is all forgotten, we will attend the bare minimum of events and resume our lives.”
