“A note?”
“Isn’t it the done thing to leave a note when one runs off to elope?”
“Elope?”
“My, but I did not realize you made such an excellent parrot, Dr. McCullom.” Ian’s mouth snapped shut at her amused comment. “I love you, Ian,” she continued more soberly. “And I know you don’t find the prospect of marriage to me abhorrent in the least. I know you care about me; I see it in the way you watch me when you think I am not paying attention, how you are so thoughtful, and how you gift me with your cherished childhood possessions.” She pulled his small book from a deep pocket in her skirts and held it out to him. The sight of the battered cover made his chest throb. “Or have I read you incorrectly?”
“You know I want you,” he began roughly; “but we simply are not meant to be. You were born to be someone’s gently bred wife, not the partner of a man who works long hours for a living. Fate never would have started us on such different paths if our lives were ever meant to intersect.”
“Why can I not decide one thing for myself?” Juliette demanded. “All my life, I have been groomed and sheltered, but I knew all the while something was missing. You showed me what it meant to have meaning in one’s life. Real meaning. Is it really so bad if I decideyouaremydestiny?” Ian’s arm darted out and he pulled her roughly to him, but she continued to speak as her powdery hands curled in his lapels. “I want to help you realize your dreams. I want to travel with you as you make the world a better place. We’ll go to the Continent where you learned your techniques. We will live in foreign lands and put our linguistic skills to the test.”
Heart racing, Ian knew he had to temper her excitement. “Your life would be very different than the one to which you have grown accustomed; your brother may never forgive you or welcome you home with open arms again.”
There was a flicker of pain in her eyes which told him she’d considered all of this and had weighed her choice with no little amount of effort. “Despite what you say, I know you are no pauper; I trust with my whole heart that you will provide a safe, comfortable life for both of us. I will be home wherever you are, whether it be Scotland, London, or Constantinople.
“As for Ethan…he will undoubtedly be furious with me, but I do not doubt in my heart that he will eventually forgive me. We are two halves of the same whole; neither can live too long without the other. Besides, I expect he will come to terms with the fact that a happy sister is far preferable to a miserable one beneath his thumb.” Juliette’s hand slid up Ian’s chest, past his cravat, and the pad of her thumb traced the line of his jaw and then the curve of his lower lip, igniting a heat deep within his loins. “Tha gaol agam ort,” she whispered in Gaelic, thrilling him beyond reason.I love you.“And,” she added in English; “I have taken the choice out of your hands. If my reputation hadn’t been tattered before, it is well and truly obliterated now. You have no choice but to make things right, do the honorable thing, and keep me as yours forever.”
His heart incredibly light in his chest, Ian finally bowed his head to capture Juliette’s mouth with his. Their lips and teeth and tongue met with furious need built up over the past several weeks.
“What have I ever done to deserve you,” Ian murmured against her lips.
Breath unsteady, she pressed her forehead to his. “Consider it a reward for all the lives you have saved, and have yet to save.”
Ian threw back his head and laughed before kissing her once again. He easily swept her slight frame up into his arms and quit the room to head for the stairs. However, their progress was stopped quite abruptly by the sight of Ian’s mother blocking their way, hands on her hips, a stern tilt to her mouth, though her eyes twinkling with barely contained joy.
“Now, it’s all well and fine that you’re planning on gettin’ married, but you’ll not be doing anything untoward beneath ma roof.” She eyed her son. “No matter how old Ian is, I am still his mother. You can wait a couple of days until we’re able tuh have a proper ceremony. As me only son, you at least owe me a wedding.” Ian felt Juliette’s arms tighten around his neck. “Ye don’t need to wait for the banns to be read in Scotland, but ye need to postpone everything ‘til after Sunday.”
Ian emitted an uncharacteristically pained groan; the woman in his arms laughed melodiously and rubbed a conciliatory hand on his chest.
Chapter Twenty
Ian’s mother, while a kind, warm woman, turned out to be not very trusting of her son’s ability to curb his baser urges. Though Ian had offered to sleep in his office so Juliette could take over his room, Juliette was, instead, deposited at the home of one of Margaret’s many friends until the wedding could take place.
Determined that their union be as respectable as possible in the eyes of the English, Ian went to the trouble of procuring a license and calling in favors to make the event as much like a traditional wedding as possible. Juliette had dubbed their situation an elopement, but she deserved so much more than a hasty wedding, no matter how his body yearned to be with her once more. He took great pleasure in procuring a well-appointed suite for them at a hotel in New Town for their honeymoon period where they could have all the time and privacy they desired. From there, travel was arranged to take them to the Continent. The trip he was planning was nearly as exciting as the wedding itself. He could not wait to open up the world to his beloved, to expose her to new and exciting things of which she’d only read, and to show her some of his favorite places. He wanted to experience these things through her eyes and savor them with her. He wanted to make new memories and build a future.
Meanwhile, Margaret took Juliette to purchase a ready-made gown from a modiste on Princes Street. The shopkeeper was flustered when Ian’s mother let slip that Juliette was the sister of an earl and there would be no time to design or alter a gown befitting her station. The time constraints of their short engagement meant there were only three dresses from which to choose where alterations could be made in a day.
The first was virginal ivory, but it had far too many frills and made Juliette feel like a young girl. The last thing she wanted was to look like a child’s doll on her wedding day. The next was better, but the neckline of the sapphire blue gown was too high. The third, the shopkeeper told her, was an abandoned order where the lady had changed her mind about the color. It was a nearly finished satin gown in the richest green Juliette had ever seen. Lighter green rosettes decorated the cap sleeves which fell just below her natural shoulder to lend a hint of daring; the neckline was trimmed in deep green lace; the waist would be cinched in with a beaded ribbon once it was finished. The hem was a tad too long and the waist an inch too large, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed with relative ease and skill. As Juliette examined herself in the looking glass, smoothing the skirts and touching the rosettes, a choked sob hiccuped from behind her.
Ian’s mother watched her, hands clasped before her face in a futile attempt to staunch her tears. “Ach,” she snuffled. “Cho breagha…”
Juliette smiled and held out her hand. The older woman took it and squeezed it in her own weathered, callused one. “Thank you,Mama; I certainly feel beautiful.” It was difficult to not allow herself to grow emotional as well when faced with this immensely strong woman’s joy, but she somehow managed.
Measurements were made, alterations were agreed upon, and Juliette purchased the dress with a small portion of the funds she’d brought on her journey. Juliette took great satisfaction knowing this task brought her one step closer to being with Ian forever.
∞∞∞
The day of the wedding dawned bright and sunny. Though the morning chill had yet to burn off by the time the small gathering arrived at the church, Ian still felt as if it was the perfect day to marry a woman far too good for him.
His mother had spent the prior evening alternating between crying, telling him how overjoyed she was that he’d found a life partner, reminding him that the lively gel would keep him on his toes; how she believed the two of them to be perfect counterbalances to one another. This, his mother believed, was the key to all successful marriages: Balance.
She believed Juliette would lighten Ian’s seriousness; he, in turn, would ground her. His parents had had a marriage of balance, and Ian looked forward to discovering that sweet point of equality where he and Juliette were partners working in tandem for a singular future.
The ceremony, itself, was traditionally Scottish. The church was decorated with little sprays of native flowers—Scots bluebells, thorny thistles, and heather. The air was filled with the ghosts of Ian’s childhood memories, thick with where he’d come from and all he had yet to achieve. It struck him so ferociously that he had to stop a moment, close his eyes, and simply breathe it in. And, when he opened them again, an angel draped in the green earth of the Highlands was floating toward where he stood at the end of the aisle. Words could not describe how beautiful Juliette was to him. Her black hair was plaited and pinned to her head and only when she was closer could he see the little bluebells woven in the delicate strands. Swathed in green silk, draped in a swath of the navy blue, hunter green, black, and gray plaid of his family’s ancient clan, she was the softer, more perfect, more feminine version of his attire. He, too, was carried a length of the dyed wool plaid; the very same one his father had worn on his wedding day, and it felt as if a part of him was there beside Ian.
The light filtering through the high, narrow windows caught on the silver brooch at Juliette’s shoulder where it held the two halves of her plaid together. It was the same brooch his da’ had given to his mother the day before their wedding. It was simple but dearly cherished. When he had watched as Juliette teared up after his mother had given it to her and explained its significance, he could have carried her off and married her right then and there for being so accepting of his heritage, of his past, of his family. This woman took him as he was, wanted him to be nothing more than he was, and loved him for it all. It was blindingly baffling to Ian, but he vowed to accept it, cherish it, nurture it, and return it to Juliette tenfold. Everything about that day was simple and perfect, but it was the love in Juliette’s eyes that was truly stunning.
Together, they recited their promises and he slid a thin gold band of interwoven threads onto her finger. When they kissed, Juliette threw her arms around Ian’s neck with such enthusiasm that she nearly knocked him from his feet. A few chuckles and a smattering of embarrassed coughs bubbled up from the guests present—mainly Margaret’s closest friends—but it was of no consequence; especially when he held his wife’s face in his hands, pressed his forehead to hers, and told her he loved her in as many languages as he could think of.
