Forevermore (9 page)

Mary snatched it from his hands and shoved it at her mother. "Yes, hurry, Mama. We must bank the fire, lest the soup burn. Will we eat supper at the ball?"

"Aye, delicacies like you've never tasted. Your mama and I will bring a plate to the nursery for you."

Mary clapped her hands. "Hurry, Mama!" she repeated. She started working the laces on the front of her dress.

"I'll wait for you in the carriage," Cameron said over his shoulder as he headed out the door. "Impatiently."

"I feel like I'm in a dream," Clarice said an hour later. "Dancing at a ball in the castle. Ever since the day I met you, I've felt like I'm in a dream. A fairytale."

Cameron twirled her into the next step. "The dream can last forever, Clarice, if only you'll say aye."

"Oh, Cam…" Tonight, if she had any say in the matter, reality wouldn't intrude. There would be time for sorrow and regret tomorrow. "If only things could be different. I cannot be a real wife to you—not the kind of wife you deserve—"

"What I deserve is for me to decide, for me to choose. And I choose you. What you speak of is only one small part of marriage. The other parts are much more important. I choose you, Clarice. I choose you and Mary."

She watched his gaze stray up to the minstrel's gallery, where her daughter's small face appeared between the slats. He released Clarice long enough to wave, then grinned when Mary waved back.

"You said you were willing to try." They rose on their toes, then moved closer together. "But even without that, what you are is enough for me."

And right there, in the great hall in front of all the glittering aristocrats, he stopped and leaned to give plain Clarice Bradford a kiss.

"Since you're the practical sort," he continued when he resumed the dance, "I shall give you my practical arguments. I've no wish to marry for lust. That often fades anyway, or so I've been told. I wish to marry for love, for companionship, for the helpmate I know you will be." He drew a breath that she might have thought was shaky, if she didn't know him better. "But mostly because I cannot live without you. Since the moment I laid eyes on you, I've known you were meant to be mine. Just as you are, Clarice. I won't be expecting you to change."

"I wish I could believe you," she whispered.

"What's stopping you?" he demanded, displaying the quick temper she'd spotted briefly the day they went boating and again at the picnic. She had to remind herself she'd seen nothing in him to lead her to believe he might hurt her. "What cause have I given you to doubt my word? Ever?"

"None," she said honestly. "But you walked away. When I told you I am…fr-frigid"—she stumbled over the word—"you walked away."

"You
told
me to walk away."

The look on his face sparked her guilt. At the time, she'd been certain permission to leave was what he wanted. But now she wasn't so sure.

"Regardless," he said, "it's sorry I am that I did walk away." His hazel eyes looked so earnest, she couldn't doubt him. "I needed to think it through; I'll admit to that, Clarice. In that very moment I wasn't certain of my feelings. But now I know my heart. I've told you the truth, and I've never lied to you before, so I'll thank you not to accuse me of it now." His hands squeezed hers. "What you have to offer is enough. I cannot live without you—not happily, at least."

All at once, rather than seeming too young, he seemed wise beyond his years. And Clarice felt young and untried, frightened of the future yet even more afraid to refuse her one chance at happiness.

"What do you say?" Cameron stopped, right there in the middle of the dance. "Will you become my handfasted wife, Clarice Bradford? Tonight? For day after tomorrow I leave for my castle, and I'll be wanting to take you with me. You and Mary."

"She'll think she's a princess."

"Nothing will make me happier than she be
my
princess. Except, of course, if you'll be my wife. Lady Leslie. It has a nice ring to it, aye?" His smile made her heart turn over. "The glass shoe fits you, Clarice. You deserve to wear it."

"The glass shoe would never fit." She glanced down at the hem of the gorgeous gown, thankful it was plenty long to hide her plain black slippers. He hadn't thought to bring her proper dress shoes, and for that he'd apologized profusely, though she suspected he'd wanted to but hadn't been able to find ones that fit her big feet.

Not that she'd have chosen to wear formal shoes, anyway. She could barely perform the new dances in flat shoes, let alone heels.

"It fits," he insisted.

It still sounded impossible. She'd be living in a castle. Dazed, she glanced around Cainewood's enormous great hall: the polished plank floor, the tapestries on the walls, the intricate oak hammerbeam ceiling. The chamber exuded a stately majesty she could never aspire to live up to.

"Leslie Castle is nothing like this," Cameron said, reading her mind as only he could. "Nothing. It isn't ancient like this, but almost new—Caithren's father built it. It boasts naught but fifteen rooms, small rooms, none of them anything like the massive chambers here. It's but a fortified house, really, built to look like a castle."

"Fifteen rooms," she murmured. "
Naught
but fifteen rooms." Her lips curved in a wry smile. "I've only ever lived in one."

"Don't worry—I will hire someone to clean it for you. You won't be expected to break your back making our castle a home."

"That wasn't what I was thinking." Good heavens, she would have a servant? Whoever would have thought it?

But of course she would. She would be Lady Leslie.

"Will you marry me, Clarice? Please. Tonight. Right now." Dropping one of her hands, he pulled a white ribbon from his surcoat pocket. "Mary is waiting for your answer."

"Mary?" She glanced up to the gallery, and her daughter waved again. "Mary knows you wish to do this tonight?"

"Well, now, while we were waiting for you in the carriage, she asked again about the bear. She was afraid it might be dangerous." He grinned, displaying the dimples that reminded her he was young. But wise, she reminded herself. So very wise. And entirely too charming. "So I explained to her about bearing witness, and what a very important job that would be. She assured me she is mature enough to handle it."

"Oh," she said, her free hand rising to trace the curve of the unfamiliar pearls around her neck. She felt overwhelmed, pressured from all sides. And within herself. She'd been so sure she wanted to be free of men, just she and Mary making a life for themselves. But Cameron would leave on Sunday, and she knew if he left alone, he'd be taking her heart along with him.

She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, uncertain of her answer until she opened them. Then, "Yes," she whispered. "I will be honored to become handfasted to you, Cameron Leslie. Tonight."

He let out a whoop that had heads turning as he pulled her from the great hall.

Laughing, she ran after him, and his cousin, Lady Cainewood, came running after them both.

"Cameron! What are you up to?"

He stopped in the entry, a three-story stone chamber graced with impossibly tall columns and a magnificent staircase. "Getting handfasted, cousin. Right now."

"Without asking me to attend? How dare you?" His cousin's words sounded stern, but her hazel eyes, so like his, were dancing conspiratorially. "Where? I must fetch Jason."

"Not Lord Cainewood," Clarice begged under her breath. "I couldn't…"

"You alone, Cait." Cameron started up the steps. "Mary will be the second witness."

Without hesitation, Lady Cainewood followed. When they reached the top of the stairs, Mary came running down the corridor and threw herself into Cameron's arms. "Did she say yes?"

"Aye, princess, she did. Aren't we lucky?"

"Can I call you Papa?"

He froze in his tracks, clearly made breathless with surprise. "I would be honored," he told Mary gravely, his voice husky with emotion.

And in that moment, Clarice knew for certain she had made the right choice, no matter how frightened she was of the marriage bed, and moving to Scotland, and becoming a lady. It was the right choice for her daughter, and Mary was more important than all the mental obstacles barring Clarice's way.

He led them all to a chamber and threw open the door. Clarice's breath caught in wonder.

The entire room seemed golden. A carved bedstead was gilded and hung with golden brocade. The rest of the furniture was upholstered and gilded to match. The largest mirror Clarice had ever seen hung over a marble-topped table. She glimpsed herself in it, looking flushed and awed and younger even than Cameron.

"The Gold Chamber," Lady Cainewood explained. "My husband told me it's saved for honored guests, and no guest here is more important than Cameron."

Cameron rolled his eyes. "It's the truth I've felt rather ridiculous bumping about this enormous room by myself." He took Clarice's hand and pulled her inside. "It will be much nicer in here tonight with you by my side."

"Me? In here?" She couldn't imagine. She was afraid to even stand on the patterned carpet that covered the floor. Her mind boggled at the luxury and expense.

"Did you think I'd be spending our wedding night alone? Or in your little cottage? Not that it isn't nice," he rushed to add. "You keep it quite bonnie. But it's one room, you see, and with Mary—"

"We all see," his cousin put in. "And you are more than welcome to stay here, Mrs. Bradford, until the day you leave for Leslie."

Clarice wasn't at all sure she was mentally prepared for a wedding night. "I wouldn't presume, Lady Cainewood—"

"You must call me Caithren. Or Cait, if you please. We're about to be cousins, after all."

Could this get any more unbelievable?

"Now," Cameron said, "take my hands, right to right, and left to left. In this way our arms make the symbol of infinity, signifying our commitment to be together. Forever."

It sounded too much, too soon. "I thought you said it was for a year and a day?"

"Normally, aye. But for us, forever."

When he looked at her like that, she was hard put to refuse him anything. She only hoped this strange ceremony included a kiss at the end like the traditional one, because she was dying to feel his mouth on hers. No matter that her daughter and his cousin were watching.

He dropped one of her hands long enough to give the ribbon to Mary. "Can you tie this around our four hands, princess?"

"I'll do it," Caithren volunteered.

"No, I can do it." Proudly Mary stepped up and took the white ribbon. "I learned how to tie last year, didn't I, Mama?"

"You surely did, poppet."

Cam reclaimed Clarice's hand. "Then tie it well, princess, for it symbolizes how tightly our family will be bound together. You, me, and your mama."

"Wait." Frowning, Mary chewed on a nail. "At Lady Cainewood's wedding…well, shouldn't Mama be holding flowers?"

"Nay!" Cam and Cait shouted together. Eyes wide, Mary jumped, and in spite of the serious occasion, Clarice found herself laughing.

What a marvelous new life she was going to have.

She sobered when Mary came closer, and if the bow was a bit crooked when she finished tying, it didn't matter. "Perfect," Cameron declared.

Then he dropped to one knee and captured Clarice's gaze with his.

"I present to you, Clarice, my love and my pledge. May I never knowingly or willingly do anything to harm nor grieve you in any fashion. Accept this pledge as a token of my trust. Like our hands are bound, may our love be as strong. That which is mine is yours, my heart and all my worldly belongings. Will you share my life with me, Clarice?"

A hush settled over the room, and his hands squeezed hers.

"What am I supposed to say?" she whispered.

"Say aye, my love. Only aye."

She ventured a tremulous smile. "Aye, then. I will share your life. For a year and a day and forevermore."

He rose and leaned forward, his mouth meeting hers in a rush of heat, their bound hands crushed between their bodies.

All too soon, he pulled away.

"Now, Mary," he said huskily. "Cait? Will you untie us, if you please, and bind Mary's hands to ours as well?"

Tears flooded Clarice's eyes as his cousin did as he bid. Soon they were tied together, the three of them, and Cam dropped to one knee again.

"We are bound to you, Mary, from this day forward, as your parents in our hearts and our souls. You have our love, and with it our promise never to harm or grieve you willingly in any fashion. Like our hands are bound, let our love be as strong. Will you share your life with us, and be known from this day forward as Mary Leslie, daughter of Cameron and Clarice?"

"What am
I
s'posed to say?" Mary whispered.

Beneath the ribbon bow, Clarice squeezed her daughter's hand. "Just say yes, sweet."

"Yes!" An exclamation of pure joy, the single word echoed in the ancient stone chamber.

And though Clarice had felt like Mary was hers from the day Lord Cainewood brought the girl to her doorstep, in that moment she felt closer to her daughter than she'd ever thought possible. Bound, as Cameron had said, heart and soul. She would never be able to thank him for this precious gift of belonging.

All at once, Caithren was untying the ribbon, and Cameron raised Mary into the air and gave her resounding kisses on both cheeks. Then he handed her to Clarice, wrapping his arms around them both as though he could protect them from the world.

She hoped he could. She was counting on it.

"Am I a princess now?" Mary asked when he finally released them.

"No, poppet," Clarice started.

"Aye," Cam interrupted before she could say another word. "You're
my
princess. And you always will be, even after you go off and get married."

"I'm never getting married," Mary declared. "I'm going to live with you forever."

Cameron ruffled her golden curls. "Well, now, it's the truth that nothing would make me happier. But we'll have to wait and see what happens, aye? Don't forget that only last week your own mama was saying she'd never get married, either."