Page 43 of The Widow Wore Plaid

“I was thinking that if something happens to me—”

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Kinellan, save you are going to have to stay in your bed for this wound to heal for a week at least.” She sat up, her back flat against the wall. “Which means we will need to postpone the wedding for a short while, but that can wait.”

“No, Jane, it cannot wait.” Wincing as he attempted to sit up, Gareth tried to keep his shoulder as still as possible.

“Wait, Gareth, I’ll come back down.” Jane immediately slid back down to the floor and turned to face him. “What do you mean we cannot wait? We must wait until you are well and can stand up with me.”

“Jane, don’t you see that if something happens to me, if this assassin kills me—no, my dear”—he headed her off as she began to shake her head—“you must hear me out. If he kills me, but you escape, then my cousin will inherit the title and lands. Even if you are carrying my child and that child turns out to be a boy, he will not be the legitimate heir because we are not married.”

Continuing to shake her head, Jane closed her eyes. “No, you are not going to die, Kinellan.”

“I will try my very hardest, love, to stay alive, but in this situation, I can make you no promises.” He grasped her chin and turned her head toward him, giving it a little shake until she opened her eyes. “Jane, you must understand. The gunman out there could make an end to me, or this wound could sicken and lay me low before we can return to the castle and a doctor.”

A grudging nod said she understood.

“Therefore, to safeguard you and any unborn child, as much as possible, we must marry immediately.”

“Yes, Gareth, I promise you, we will marry as soon as we get back to the castle. We’ll send for Mr. Ross and have the surgeon fetched the instant we arrive.” She took his hand and squeezed it, sealing the promise.

“No, love.” He shook his head. He had to make her understand. “Now. I may not make it back to the castle. We must marry now.”

Her eyes grew wide, blue dots in a sea of white. She laid the inside of her wrist to his forehead, feeling for fever. “Gareth, we have no minister to marry us here, my love.” She felt his cheeks, then his chest. “You’ve a slight fever, which accounts for this wild talk. You need to rest. I’ll fetch the tea and—”

“We don’t need a minister to marry us, Jane.” He caught her hands to still them. “We can perform a handfasting ourselves, right here, right now, if you will agree to it.” He smiled into her shocked face. “Jane, will you marry me?”

Chapter Nineteen

The excitement of Lord Lathbury’s announcement that he was to be the temporary host and Lady Lathbury the hostess at Lord Kinellan’s table that evening had indeed created a flurry of startled activity, a buzz in the drawing room that rivaled a swarm of bees. In the general confusion that had followed, Bella and Lord Harold had taken advantage of the situation as he’d suggested and sat together as dinner partners. Not at all what Bella had expected him to advocate, but she liked him the better for surprising her so agreeably.

“I think it so much better when the host doesn’t insist his guests sit according to precedence.” On Bella’s right, Lord Harold smiled at her as the footman poured wine. “My father is a high stickler when it comes to that. Therefore, I was forever at the far end of the table, when I was finally allowed at the dinner table, with only my sister Georgie to talk to. You know Georgie, of course?”

“I have met Lady St. Just, yes. But I have not been much in her company, I’m afraid.” Bella quite liked the lady, who was spirited and funny at times.

“Well, until you have had long conversations with her, so you can judge for yourself, suffice it to say that I had little chance to speak on topics in which I was interested.” He chuckled, leading Bella to believe he was truly fond of his sister. “Instead I had to endure long, rambling monologues about imaginary friends, her copious doll collection, but mostly about her dog, Lucy.”

“She was a King Charles Spaniel, wasn’t she?” Bella loved all animals, but especially dogs. “That was one of the things we did speak about.”

“Yes, and a more cantankerous beast never lived, although I suspect her current dog runs that one a close second.”

“Lulu, isn’t it?” Lady St. Just had had the dog with her at Maria’s wedding to Hugh in January. “I wondered why your sister didn’t bring her here. She seemed so very fond of the dog last winter.”

“Oh, she’s mad about Lulu. But when she and St. Just were at Blackham Castle, after your brother’s wedding, Lulu became pregnant. About a month before they were set to go to London, Lulu had five puppies. Of course, Georgie could not be persuaded to leave them until they were weaned and then Lulu refused to leave them at all.” Lord Harold rolled his eyes. “So most reluctantly Georgie finally left her in the care of Father’s wife, who breeds pugs. She’s the only one to whom my sister would trust the dog and puppies.”

“You don’t like dogs, my lord?” That was a blow. More than anything, Bella wished to have her dogs from The Grange come with her when she married. She’d just assumed most gentlemen liked the company of dogs.

“Oh, I do. I’ve had dogs all my life, at least until I went off to school. Once I’m settled somewhere I plan on having a pack of them.” He grinned at her and laid his napkin in his lap.

“Hunting dogs, you mean?” Not the best answer, but better than an active dislike of the animals.

“I like all kinds of dogs, Miss Granger, although I’ve developed an affinity for pugs ever since my stepmother brought them to Blackham.” He paused as a footman presented her with a steaming tureen of a delicious-smelling soup. After they were served, he continued. “Are you fond of them, too?”

“Of pugs?” She had no particular affinity for the little dogs but was thrilled nevertheless that Lord Harold did. “They are sweet dogs. I have two Great Danes at The Grange. Ares and Artemis.”

Lord Harold’s brows rose extremely high. “Great Danes, you say? Huge beasts, aren’t they?”

“But a sweeter, gentler dog you could not find.” Bella drank some soup, letting his lordship digest that bit of information. “This soup is delicious, don’t you think?”

“A bit spicier than I would have expected, Miss Granger.” He cut his eyes over to her and his lips puckered. “But as you say, delicious.” His gaze strayed down the table where an animated discussion was ensuing regarding the whereabouts of Lord Kinellan and Lady John. “What do you think has happened to them, Miss Granger? You mentioned kidnapping before. Do you really think someone would have abducted them both? Who? And to what purpose?”