The Highlander's Accidental Marriage (Marriage Mart Mayhem) (9 page)

Since only he, and not Sarah, kenned he had every right to make love to his accidental wife, it was best if he stayed away from her. The lass was obviously fatigued, so tomorrow after she’d refreshed herself with a good night’s sleep would be soon enough to tell her about what she’d done.

The kitchen prepared a tray for Sarah that would help to restore the lass. He had them add a pot of tea, and then returned to their room. When he arrived, she had finished undressing and was in the bed, the covers pulled up and tucked under her chin. He grinned at her obvious message. And was happy about it.

Maybe.

“I have yer dinner. And a large pot of tea.”

“Where is your dinner?”

“I want ye to eat in peace and get some much needed rest. I will take my dinner downstairs and expect ye to be fed and asleep when I return.” He didn’t add his main purpose was to throw cold water on his raging lust.

“Where will you sleep?”

Alongside ye so I can wrap my arms around ye in yer sleep and make love to ye first thing in the morning.
“I will ask the innkeeper for extra blankets and curl up on the floor.”

“Thank you. You are an honorable man, and I truly appreciate the respect you show me.”

Ach, if ye kenned my thoughts ye would order me to sleep in the stables with the rest of the animals.

“Good night, lass.” He closed the door and headed downstairs.

Once he had his dinner in front of him, his thoughts drifted to the problem the lass had presented them with by announcing in public they were married. Scotland’s loose marriage law is what made midnight trips to Gretna Green so popular. He had no doubt, since she had spent a few Seasons in London, that Sarah was aware of that.

He pushed away his empty plate and considered how this affected him. He liked Sarah a great deal and respected the woman she was. He kenned with the strength of his convictions that she would make a more than pleasing wife. The intensity of their hunger for each other promised long nights of passion.

But what of his work? The letter that could very well already be waiting for him would be the culmination of all he’d worked toward. Was he prepared to give that up?

No.

Then there was Sarah herself and her edict that she had no desire, nor intention, to ever marry. She wanted to be the doting aunt to her sisters’ and brother’s bairns. Unnatural for a woman of Sarah’s passion and caring. There had to be a story behind that intent.

Depending on how reliable the inn’s horses for hire were, they only had one more night to spend together before they arrived at the MacBride home. He smiled at how well Sarah would take the news that they were married because of her slipup. Knowing her as well as he did at this point, he expected quite a battle. The lass had a great deal of fire in her. Fire he wanted to see directed at him in their bed.

Ach
, what a situation I am in.
A slow smile spread across his face.

Chapter Nine

T
he length and difficulties of the journey were taking their toll on Sarah. She was barely able to drag herself from bed when Braeden stood over her fully dressed and wide awake. “Come now, lass, the stable is readying our horses.”

She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Didn’t we just fall asleep?”

“Nay,” he grinned. “I came upstairs about ten last evening, and ye were slumbering away.”

“What time is it now?” The yawn she’d tried to smother broke free.

“Half past six.” He pushed his timepiece into his pocket. “I will see about the carriage while ye ready yerself.” He got as far as the door and turned back. “Do ye need help in dressing?”

Yesterday’s scene of them sprawled on the bed, Braeden’s fingers doing delicious things to her body flashed in her mind. Fighting the heat rising from her lower parts, she said, “No. I have a gown in my satchel that fastens in the front.” No need to add she would also leave off her stays today, which only tied in the back. Although a proper lady never went beyond her bedroom door without her stays, it was better than what could occur if Braeden “helped.”

Once the door was firmly shut, she fumbled in her satchel for her clothing. Of course, she’d lied to him. She would have to put a gown on backward and cover herself with her pelisse so she didn’t look ridiculous. At least the air in Scotland, especially in the morning, was cool enough that she would need her warm pelisse, anyway.

Braeden greeted her as she made it to the bottom of the stairs. He looked the opposite of how she felt. Bright eyes, no evidence of sleep loss. And he’d spent the night on the floor! She couldn’t help but wonder what her response would have been if he had crawled in beside her. Somehow she didn’t think that was something she would have missed.

“I had a hasty breakfast set up for us in the private dining room.”

Sarah took his arm and they proceeded into the room. A fire burned brightly in the stone fireplace in front of a table set for two. Once they sat, Sarah poured tea into her cup and Braeden’s. “Ah, nothing tastes better to me first thing in the morning than tea.”

“Yer verra English, lass.”

She set her cup down. “Don’t the Scots drink tea?”

“Indeed, we do. But I’ve never seen that look on any Scotsman’s face while drinking tea. Now, if it were Scotch whiskey…”

A few more people, most likely from the large group of travelers she’d seen yesterday, began to trickle into the room. Again, the older ladies were demanding special treatment, and had the serving girls scurrying to and fro, which had Sarah shaking her head.

Braeden regarded her over his cup of tea. “’Tis a bit warm in here. Perhaps ye should remove yer pelisse while ye eat.”

“No. I’m fine. In fact, I feel a bit chilly.” The sweat running down her face belied her words, but if she ate quickly, they would soon be in the carriage and on their way.

They did, indeed, make quick work of the porridge, sausage, and eggs. Just as they finished, the stableboy sent word through the serving girl that their carriage was ready.

Thank goodness.
Sarah was about to expire from the heat of the fireplace and the warmth of her pelisse. Braeden pulled out her chair, and they headed to the front door. The cool air on her face felt wonderful, and she took deep gulps of it as Braeden helped her into the carriage. He had decided to ride Niels, so since there were no witnesses to her ruse, Sarah unfastened the pelisse and waved the flaps to cool herself.

At the sound of voices, she peeked through the carriage window to see Braeden shaking hands with another man. He was not quite as tall as Braeden and definitely rounder. It was a good thing he met the man on his way out instead of yesterday, so he didn’t have to learn about her subterfuge in order to gain a room.

“Are ye ready, lass?”

At her nod, Braeden directed the driver to start off. Sarah leaned her head back, and feeling more comfortable with the pelisse opened and a full stomach, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

She jerked awake at the sound of the carriage door opening. Confused, she didn’t quite remember where she was. She was cold, all the way to her bones. Then her memory returned. How she’d put her gown on backward to avoid Braeden’s help and when she’d settled into the carriage she had opened the pelisse to cool off. It had worked, but now she was freezing.

Sarah pulled the pelisse closed and ran her palms up and down her arms. “Are we stopping?”

“Nay. A storm is starting up. I’ll be joining ye for the rest of the trip.” He settled in across from her. “Yer lips are blue and yer shaking. Ye seem rather cold. I hope yer not getting sick.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sick. Just a little c-c-c-old.” She moved the curtain aside to see the drizzle turn to steady rain pounding the ground, small pools of water quickly gathering on leaves. “Will the weather interfere with our drive today?”

“I hope not, lass. But if the roads become too muddy, the horses may have a hard time keeping their feet.” He stretched out his long legs. “Only time will tell.”

“If that m-m-m-message never reached her, my s-s-s-sister will be beside herself with w-w-w-worry.”

Braeden grinned. “’Tis clear ye are more than a
little
cold.” He reached out and pulled her to his side. “Here. Lean in to me, and we’ll share the warmth.” He opened his coat and wrapped it around her. The heat from his body seeped through her pelisse and gown, right to her skin, warming her immediately. But still she shook.

“I c-c-c-could use a cup of tea.”

“Aye. I would love to have a whiskey myself, but we’ll be lucky if we make it to another inn before nightfall. The driver has to go verra slow and careful along this path. Especially with the ground being so wet.”

Sarah tilted her head to the side so she could look at him. “Is life always so difficult in Scotland?”

He threw his head back and laughed, then looked down at her. “Why do ye say that? ’Tis no harder here than anywhere else, I imagine. And probably a lot better.”

She snuggled close to him again. “It just seems since I started this journey to see Sybil, so many things have gone wrong. I swear once I step foot in Bedlay Castle I will not leave for weeks.”
Or until my publisher sends me word of my book release.

“Are ye so sure you dinna want a life of yer own?” His voice softened. “Yer own husband, home, and bairns?”

The tingle that ran up her spine at his words disturbed her. He looked so earnest, and in some sense, even troubled. The path for her life had been set when she finished her book. She had known then that was what she wanted. When her publisher was so flattering in his enthusiasm for her writing, she’d known she’d made the right choice. Independence and freedom to write her stories.

No husband in Polite Society would allow his wife such liberty. She would do as she pleased, without the help of a man.

Well, except her publisher was a man.

But the time spent with Braeden had given her a glimpse of what she would miss. Not that she wanted to marry the Scot. The plans he had would never fit in with the life she had chosen. At least not for a number of years. Then again, the memory of his hands and fingers, and the expectation of what his lovemaking would feel like, warmed her almost as much as his nearness. It amazed her that they’d only known each other a few days. The smell of his body, the scent of sandalwood and horses, was already familiar and comforting.

His strong muscles as she leaned into him gave her a sense of security, of protection from all that was evil. She needed to be very careful around this man. He had her thinking about things best left alone.

“Sarah, there is something we need to discuss.” Braeden sat up straight, his demeanor reminding her of the times her papa was about to dole out a punishment for some misdeed. Curious at his change in manner, she looked at him, but before he could speak, her thoughts were scattered as the carriage slid to the side and continued on until it landed abruptly against a large tree. Braeden’s tight grip on her body kept her from flying about and landing on the floor.

“What was that?” She sat up and adjusted her bonnet.

“I
would guess the carriage is not too steady on these roads. I will check with the driver.” Braeden opened the door, and sheets of rain whipped in. He pulled up the collar of his coat, and with his head down, walked toward the front of the carriage.

The driver was just climbing down as he reached the horses. “Sir, I dinna think we can go much farther today. The horses are slippin’ and slidin’.”

“Aye. ’Tis pretty bad. Do ye know of any inns nearby?” Braeden shielded his eyes with his hand to keep the water out.

“Nay. I’ve been up and down this road many times. I only ken of a few cottages scattered here and there. We might find one who will take ye in for the night.”

“Let’s see how many miles we can put in today. But if it gets dangerous, we’ll stop. Drive carefully, and go slow until ye see a cottage.” Braeden splashed through mud, slipping until he grasped the door handle. He climbed into the carriage and wiped his face and spectacles with his handkerchief.

“What will we do now?” Sarah asked.

“The driver says there are numerous cottages around here. He is going to stop as soon as it appears too dangerous to continue on. Then we’ll see if we can get the occupants to allow us to stay with them for the night.”

“You’re soaking wet!” She stared at the puddle of water at his feet.

“Aye. ’Tis a terrible storm out there.”

They remained silent as the carriage crawled along. Time passed as Sarah shivered, the dampness from Braeden invading the carriage. She stayed huddled in the corner, wrapping her pelisse around herself in an attempt to keep warm. It wasn’t working.

Eventually, the carriage came to a slow stop—more like a slide. She stared at the carriage door until the driver opened it. “I see a cottage down the path here, sir. I will knock on the door to see if they’ve room for ye.”

“Nay.” Braeden moved to step out. “’Tis only right for me to be doing the asking.”

The walk was made soggier, if possible, by leaves from the trees overhead dumping their weight of water as he headed to the cottage. A tidy home, someone had laid a stone walkway from the edge of the woods to the front door. Large stone containers sat on either side of the door, holding flowers that drooped with the weight of the rain.

Braeden briskly knocked on the heavy wooden door. A slight overhang from the roof protected him from further dousing. The door opened and a large man, barrel-chested, with a full mustache and beard, smiled at him. “
Ach
, what are ye doing out in this weather, mon?”

“Good evening, sir. I am Professor Braeden McKinnon of Edinburgh University. I hate to disturb yer peace, but my wife and I are traveling to Bedlay Castle and our carriage can go no farther. I wonder if ye would be able to take us in for the night. We’ll gladly sleep in yer stable if that is all right with ye.”

The man peered at him. “McKinnon, ye say?”

“Aye.”

“Margaret,” he shouted over his shoulder. “One of the McKinnon lads is at the door. Wants to stay the night with his wife.”

“Well, let them in, darlin’. Don’t leave the poor things out there in the rain.” A pleasant woman, almost as large as her husband, hurried up to the door, wiping her hands on an apron. “’Tis a pleasure to meet ye, Mr. McKinnon. Mr. Hanson and I would be happy to take care of ye for the night.

“My wife is still in the carriage. I wanted to be sure we would be welcome before I brought her out in the rain.”

“Aye. Of course. Bring the lass in.” The woman peeked around Braeden to eye the carriage at the end of their pathway.

“Thank you. And may our driver and footmen stay in yer stable?”

Mr. Hanson nodded. “There’s a loft they can sleep in. Mrs. Hanson will send our boy out with supper for them.”

“Thank you verra much.” Braeden picked his way carefully along the stone path, slick with rain and wet leaves.

He opened the carriage door. “Let’s go, darlin’. We will be warm and dry in no time.”

Sarah peered out at the dark path leading to the brightly lit cottage. “Is it safe, just staying anywhere? We don’t know these people.”

“Aye. The man and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Hanson, are agreeable people. He recognized my name, so I’m sure ’twill be fine. And at this point we have no choice.”

She put one foot out the door and stopped. “Did you tell them we were married?”

“Aye. No reason not to.”

She regarded him with furrowed brows. “I don’t understand.”

“Lass, I guarantee ’twill not be a problem. ’Tis a small cottage, there would not be two extra rooms.” He tugged on her arm. “I’m getting verra wet out here, love.”

“Oh, sorry.” She climbed out and took his arm.

“Be careful, ’tis verra slippery.”

After instructing the driver and footman on where they could stable the animals and bed down themselves, he led Sarah to the cottage door. Mr. Hanson stood at the portal holding a lantern to light the path as best he could without joining them in the rain.

“Good evening, Mrs. McKinnon. ’Tis a sorry night out there.” Mr. Hanson moved back to let them enter.

The cottage appeared warm and friendly with a few candles lighting the front area. The room had scarce furniture, worn, but clean. Mrs. Hanson had made it a pleasant and welcoming space. A bright rag rug in front of the fireplace caught sparks from the fire, and several embroidered pillows had been scattered about the room.

“Here, lass, let me help ye out of your pelisse. Ye can sit next to the fire and I’ll bring ye a nice cup of tea.” Mrs. Hanson approached Sarah and took over like a mother hen. She tugged the pelisse off Sarah and Braeden grinned. The lass’s gown was on backward. Very inventive for avoiding his touch.

“Here, Mr. McKinnon. Mr. Hanson has some warm clothes ye can wear until yours dry out. Ye can change in the room on the left side. ’Tis our son Michael’s room. Ye and yer wife can have that room.” Mrs. Hanson handed him soft woolen pants and a warm woolen shirt. Then she turned to regard Sarah. “I’m afraid anything of mine would fit ye more like a blanket.”