Page 29 of The Baron’s Halo

“My betrothed has nowhere ta stay in Carnwath, Mr. Pettigrew, save Cridhe Laidir. Neither ma màthair nor any other lady is in residence there.” Sandy stalked toward the older man so fiercely, Mr. Pettigrew started backing away. “An Miss Devereaux stays there tonight unmarried, she’ll be deemed a scarlet woman when she rises in the morning, whether or no’ I’ve touched her. That will be on yer head, vicar, no mine.”

Giving Sandy a dour look, Mr. Pettigrew shook his head. “Bide a wee while I get tha prayerbook an tha witnesses.” He hurried out the door, banging it loudly.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to endure that with Mr. Pettigrew, my love.” Sandy chuckled. “He’s known me all my life, and so fears my mother much more than he does me.”

Waving away Mr. Pettigrew for the moment, Isabelle gazed into his face with wonder. “Sandy, how on earth did you do that?”

“Do what, my love?” He frowned, as though he truly didn’t understand her question.

“Change the way you spoke to Mr. Pettigrew.” Did he really not know how strange he’d sounded? “I knew you were Scottish, but you’ve always sounded English. I just assumed you’d grown up there.”

“When I was a boy, I lived right here in Carnwath except for the summers I spent at my grandfather’s estate with my Quartermain cousins.” He grinned. “They’re the reason why I can sound like an Englishman born and bred in the heart of London. During those early summers, I spoke with the Scottish accent I’d grown up hearing from everyone but my mother. The other boys would tease me terribly, aping my brogue until I’d run crying to Mother.”

“Oh, Sandy.” How cruel his cousins had been. “They were terribly mean to you.”

“Well, I wasn’t but a wee lad at the time. Lads are tough, don’t you know. But it made me want to speak like them. So, I listened and started mimicking them. By the end of the summer, you’d have sworn I’d been raised in Hertfordshire.”

“When you speak like this, I’d swear you had been.” Such a remarkable talent. And she’d not known it until today.

“Of course, when I came back home, I had to return to the Scottish, else I’d have taken a drubbing from the lads in Carnwath.” He shook his head. “I learned to switch from one to the other fairly easily. Good thing too. I shudder to think what would have happened to me when I went to Cambridge if I’d been speakin’ ma màithair tongue.”

Isabelle giggled. “You are amazing, my love.”

The inner door to the sanctuary banged open and Mr. Pettigrew entered, prayerbook under his arm, followed by two ladies who looked uncommonly similar.

“Come up ta tha altar, if ye please.” The vicar took his place before it, the ladies to his side. “Laird MacKay, Miss Devereaux, may I present ma wife, Mrs. Pettigrew and her sister, Mrs. Dunnett. They’ve graciously agreed ta be yer witnesses.”

“Thank ye, ladies. We’re honored ta have ye as guests at our weddin’.” Sandy bowed and Isabelle curtsied.

“Yes, thank you so much for helping make this possible for us.” Isabelle was grateful for the ladies, still she hoped they could be quick about it. She was so tired by now, she thought she might begin to sway with exhaustion.

“Ahem.” Mr. Pettigrew cleared his throat and Isabelle and Sandy turned to the vicar. “Are ye ready ta get on wi’ it?”

“We are.” Sandy took her hand and they faced the vicar.

“Very well, then. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the presence of God…”

Chapter Twelve

By the time they arrived back at Cridhe Laidir, Isabelle was so tired she was more than happy to have Sandy carry her across the threshold once more. Once he put her down, however, her fatigue became so obvious, even to Sandy, that he suggested he order dinner to be brought to their chamber. She nodded, although she suspected she’d be too tired to even eat.

Wearily, she dragged one foot after another up the winding staircase, taking note, despite her fatigue, of the castle’s rich appointments. Tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of everything from a stag hunt to scenes from the Bible to fantastical animals. Interspersed with these luscious hangings were what she assumed to be family portraits in elegantly arranged groupings. The castle’s magnificence helped soothe her exhausted soul.

“I sent a telegram off to my mother before we left Carlisle, informing her of our intent to marry here immediately.” He grinned at her. “I daresay I shall get a somewhat less cordial one in return tomorrow. I did ask her to send my valet, Carnes, on to Scotland. And she’ll have Cooper accompany her whenever she leaves Town. Until then—” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “—you will have to make do with me as lady’s maid.”

Isabelle burst out laughing. “I believe I will do just fine with only you, my dear.” She sobered. “I have so few clothes, I may need little assistance at all.”

“Never underestimate my mother, Isabelle. She is sending the trunks packed for our original wedding trip along with my man. And woe be to your stepfather if he tries to gainsay my mother.” Sandy opened the door of their chamber, then scooped her up in his arms.

“Are you going to carry me over every threshold in the entire castle?” Isabelle was teasing, but she enjoyed the feeling of having his strong arms around her, so if he did, she wouldn’t mind at all.

“I hadn’t planned on it, but now you mention it…” He swung her around, making her delighted and dizzy. “I like having you in my arms, sweetheart.” Slowly, he let her slide to the floor, allowing her to touch every one of his muscles. When her toes reached the floor, he grasped her head in both hands and kissed her.

Oh, but she’d come to savor those kisses. His soft lips claimed her soul, piece by piece, each time they brushed across her mouth. She hungered for them whenever they were not engaged as they now were, making her blood sizzle in her veins. Moaning softly, she slid her arms around his neck, pressing tighter against him just as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

It had been a strange sensation the first time he’d done that, but now she craved the excitement that ensued whenever he did it. Warmth spread from the pit of her stomach down toward the deepest core of her body, more intense each time. These new, pleasurable sensations Sandy evoked in her were nothing at all like the pain and misery she’d experienced each time her stepfather had visited her bed. If she could put that monster out of her head and think only of Sandy, only of the pleasure he always brought her, perhaps she’d be ready tonight. She so wanted to be ready for him.

“Here,” he said, breaking the kiss and standing back from her. “Let me unbutton you so you can get ready for bed.” He nodded toward a door beside the fireplace. “They should have placed your trunk in the dressing room, which is on that side of the fireplace. On the opposite side is the necessary room.”