The Husband Hunt (28 page)

"And carried a bucket of stones," Wendell murmured.

"I think we shall omit that detail," Olivia said. "Along with any references to an elopement."

"A good idea."

She peered at him anxiously. "Let the scandal broths stew in their own juices. It sounds respectable enough, don't you think?"

He hesitated. "It does."

She put down her pen. "That is a provocative grin on your face, Wendell."

"Is it?"

"Yes," she said in annoyance. "It is. Does my attempt to put a stamp of respectability on my brother's bad behavior amuse you?"

"Not in the least."

"Then may I ask exactly what is it you find so amusing in my article?"

"It isn't the article itself, Olivia. Not at all. As articles go, it is more than adequate, convincing, superb. No, it is not the article."

"Then—"

"It is the
manner
in which the article was written."

"The manner?"

"In the nude."

"In the—" She glanced down at herself and gasped. "Dear God. I am still—"

"Naked." His grin widening, he rose from the couch and came to the desk to drape his jacket around her bare white shoulders. "I'm not complaining, mind you. It's a lovely thing to watch a woman in the raw write about respectability."

She groaned and dropped her head on the desk. "Oh, Wendell, what have we done?"

"Not nearly as much as I intended to."

K
night and Catriona left the castle
four days later. While she lingered over her farewells, Knight spoke in private to Thomas. "It is a shame that my wife's father did not acknowledge her. He had no idea what was lost to him."

"Stop whispering about me," Catriona said behind them.

Knight smiled down at her, relieved to see her in high spirits. The last thing he wanted was for her to be despondent on the journey home to the happy life that awaited them.

"Wait." James came striding across the courtyard, Fergan trotting at his heels. "I do not believe I gave my formal blessing on your marriage."

Knight saw Catriona study her brother's face, searching anxiously for reassurance that he was still sober. In the morning light, the young blond laird looked melancholy, his hands shook slightly, but he was very much in control. And anxious to make the journey up to Sutherland. He and four men from the castle were leaving in an hour.

"Please, James," she said. "Please don't destroy yourself. You will find joy again in life."

"Silly," he said gently, touching her face. Then he clasped his brother in-law's hand. "Will you bring her back after the baby is born?"

"I might like to fish in that loch," Knight said.

James nodded. "Then come back soon. Do not forget me." He looked into Catriona's eyes. "I'm going to find her. Ailis's parents were old, and it is possible they have died. Even if Gaela is not in Sutherland, I shall not stop until I find her. You've given me hope, Cat."

"You will find her," she said. "I know it in my heart."

The newlyweds had been home at Knight's Devon estate for less than a fortnight when Wendell and Olivia announced their engagement over dinner. Everyone politely pretended to be surprised. Still, it was not a public announcement but a private one, to follow Catriona's news of the night before that she was expecting her first child. And eating everything in sight.

"I have a fancy for cream puffs," she said, having just devoured roast duck, mashed potatoes, green peas, and a raspberry tart.

Wendell smiled across the table at Olivia. "You could still have that summer wedding, after all."

"Not this summer," Olivia said, struggling not to acknowledge that his foot was touching hers under the table. "Next year." Her head spun at the thought of all she had to do.

"Are you planning on returning to your house soon, Aunt Marigold?" Knight politely asked the older woman.

The dinner guests paused for a moment, awaiting her answer.

"Oh, no," Marigold said quickly. "Not with a baby on the way and Olivia a bride." She paused, with a tiny sniff. "Again."

Catriona broke the silence that had fallen. "I wonder if Mrs. Evans can make a cream puff."

"The manufacturing chemist starts to work next month," Wendell said to Knight. "I liked the man."

"A chemist could probably make a cream puff," Catriona said.

"I liked him, too," Knight said to Wendell, then glanced back at Marigold. "Olivia tells me that you will be living with her and Wendell after they are married."

"What?" Wendell said.

Olivia nodded. "Yes. I don't think she should be living alone at her age."

"Of course, I could stay here to help with the baby," Marigold offered sweetly. "I'm tired of my old house. Too many rooms."

Knight nearly choked on his port. "We couldn't ask you to make such a sacrifice."

"Marigold wouldn't mind," Wendell said, sitting back in his chair to enjoy watching his friend wriggle out of this. "She simply loves young children."

Knight stared at him. "Well, you and Olivia could have a child. Or two. Or three."

"In which case, I could divide myself between your houses," Marigold said thoughtfully. "In the interest of fairness. I wouldn't want you to fight over me."

Catriona clapped her hands. "What a splendid idea. That way, you shall be able to see Uncle Murdo whenever you wish."

Knight blinked. "Excuse me?"

She pushed away her plate with a contented sigh. "Oh, didn't I tell you?"

"Didn't you tell me what?" he said, putting down his glass.

She smiled benignly at his look of astonishment. "I asked Uncle Murdo to come and live with us."

"You did what?" he said weakly.

She nodded. "I asked him to live with us before we left Scotland. Of course, he refused, saying that a wizard needed a supernatural atmosphere, a special place, to be his most effective."

He gave a sigh of relief. "Well, he's absolutely right. Everyone knows—"

"But then I explained that Devon is a supernatural place. I told him the folklore of demon hounds on the moor, about the legends of the headless horseman. And then—" She gave a jubilant grin. "He accepted! Hooray! We shall all be one huge, happy family!"

"Hooray," Knight said in a stunned voice. "I can hardly wait."

Wendell clapped loudly. "What a happy ending."

"What a—" Knight said under his breath, but nobody quite caught the tail end of his thought, except for his wife, who raised one eyebrow at him.

"I will send Ames home tomorrow to supervise the packing," Marigold said, patting her while dinner cap "I am too thrilled for words."

Knight sighed. That would be the day.

Olivia tapped her spoon against her glass. "A toast. To family."

Knight reached across the table for his wife's hand, raising his glass with the other. One by one, he looked at the guests seated around him before returning his attention to the woman who carried his child, his heir.

"To family," he said. "May we be blessed with one another for all our days."

Seven months later

O
livia stared wistfully at the lacy bridal veil
that lay across her bed. In only a few months now, she would pledge her heart to Wendell, except for the portion that would forever be reserved for Lionel, her first love.

"I won't forget you," she whispered, biting her lip. "I'll love you always."

She left the room. She did not want to turn into a waterworks, not with Catriona's baby due any day now. From her window, she had seen her sister-in-law sitting in the summerhouse reading a book. Because the place reminded her of losing Lionel, Olivia had purposely not set foot inside it to this day. The closest she had come was the night she had caught her brother in the aftermath of seducing Cat.

But something drew her there now, a need for peace.

After all, the summerhouse was where Lionel had proposed to her,   and   Knight,   her  awful brother, crouching in the grass to eavesdrop, had burst into whoops of hysterical laughter when he heard her tearful acceptance.

The most wonderful moment of her life subjected to his juvenile mockery. She chuckled, despite herself. The three of them had been forever playing tricks on one another.

I just wish you knew, Lionel, how much we all loved you. And I wish I knew if you were happy, wherever you are. I wish it had been different. I do miss you so.

She climbed the steps to the summerhouse. Catriona was no longer there, but something, that strange feeling, lured her inside.

She stared around the dim interior, faintly embarrassed by her behavior. She knew that Knight and Catriona had been meeting in the summerhouse before their marriage, and sometimes afterwards, too. She smiled as she remembered throwing a shovel at him for ruining the girl. But all's well that ends well. Olivia could hardly complain when her plans had worked out better than she'd hoped.

She stared at the wheelbarrow. She had deliberately avoided looking at it. The garden vehicle sat in the corner where one of the servants had put it, untouched as if in tribute to the young man who had been a constant visitor to the estate. The dead bluebells she had gathered that day sat in the rusty bed, ghosts of their former glory, stalks, really. They looked as if they would disintegrate if you touched them. But in the middle of the dead bouquet, one bluebell lived. It was not possible. Had it somehow taken root in the soil and regenerated?

"Oh," she said, covering her mouth with her hands, and she came forward unthinkingly to rescue the willful bloom.

Someone, most likely Catriona, must have picked the bluebell and tossed the living flower there, not realizing the significance. She plucked it from the surrounding dead stalks just as her sister-in-law returned, stopping in surprise on the steps when she saw Olivia.

"I didn't know you were here," Cat said in hesitation.

"I came to see you." Olivia gestured with the flower. "Is this yours?"

"Mine? No. I didn't even know you grew them in the garden."

"We don't," Olivia said slowly. "They flourish wild in the woods. One of the servants must have picked it on a whim."

"Except that this is winter, and I haven't seen the first snowdrop yet," Catriona said. "Besides, it wasn't there a few moments ago. I know because I was thinking that if I weren't as fat as a partridge, I would use that wheelbarrow myself, but then I saw those dead flowers, and for some reason, they made me sad." She paused, putting her hand to her protruding stomach. "Goodness, what a kick. Do the bluebells make you feel sad, too?"

Olivia examined the delicate flower in her hand. The purple-blue cap was already starting to wilt and needed water. "No. They used to, but not now. They only remind me of good things now."

Knight left his desk as Wendell and the new manufacturing chemist reviewed past designs and future plans for the clay pits in Cornwall. He ought to be paying attention, but his mind was not on business. It was on impending fatherhood and his wile and his wish that she would not flit about the chilly garden like a fairy when the physician had sensibly advised her to take to the couch.

He went to the window. Ah, there she was, in the summerhouse with Olivia, which looked to be a tame enough activity, and—

He stared. Who was that man standing behind Olivia? Not Howard or one of the servants. He looked so familiar, and yet, no, it could not be.

"Wendell. Come here now."

"In a minute."

"Now, please."

Wendell frowned. "What is it?"

"Look at—damn, he's gone. He's gone."

Wendell raised his brow. "Who are you talking about?"

"It was him," Knight said in disbelief. "I think I just saw Lionel."

Olivia stepped out into the crisp morning air. "I'm going to put this flower in water. Be careful coming down. These steps need repair. And—what is it?"

Catriona looked down at her. "What is what?"

"You touched my shoulder."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I distinctly felt a hand touching me."

"Well, it wasn't me."

"Of course it was. Who else could it have been?"

"I don't know, Olivia. Perhaps the wind."

"It was not the wind."

"All right." Catriona gave an unconcerned shrug as Olivia turned toward the house, her face preoccupied. "And I thought that we pregnant women were the ones given to fancies."

She took a breath at the queer sensation in her stomach. Mrs. Evans had predicted the baby would come late that night, but Cat assured her it would be a morning birth. She had seen the delivery clearly in her mind.

So the visions had not stopped, that appeared to be an inherited trait that the Earth stone had not affected, but the horrible anxiety and panic that accompanied them had. In fact, Cat discovered that she could will away a vision now if she made an effort to relax. But for the most part, there was no need.

All her glimpses into the future were of good things, of family and children growing old together, of passionate moments and laughter, the gifts of life so often taken for granted that bring hope of heaven to earth.

"Hello," her husband said, suddenly standing before her, her devil of desire, her protector. "I thought you were supposed to be resting today."

"And I thought you were working."

He took her hand. "I was until I saw you from the window."

"And?" she asked, a shiver pulsing through her at his touch.

He drew her gently into his arms. "I never was able to resist you. Come back inside with me."

She glanced up at the house, remembering how it had beckoned her that first night, magical and imposing in the moonlight. She had ached to belong. Now she did, she belonged to this man, and her secret dreams had come true. Lionel's invitation had not been in vain; his kindness had touched so many lives and continued to do so even now.

Somewhere in the distance, a merlin cried, and she wondered with a wistful smile whether Uncle Murdo was on his way. He was part of her, the link to her mother, to the past. Lamont was, too, gone now to Italy to seek a deeper magic, but even he held a place in her memories.

The man who stood before her was the future. She leaned against him, sighing as she felt his strong arms enfold her and their unborn child. "Could I tempt you into my study, wife?" he asked without an inkling of shame.

She could only laugh. "Are you ever going to stop?"

He grinned. "Actually, I plan to take every advantage of you until your family descends on us. Olivia said you'd had a letter from James warning that he and Gaela are coming to visit soon. Apparently, the girl is, in his words, 'a wee whirligig. '"

"Aye." A frown clouded her face. "To think that Gaela's grandparents died within a month of each other, and she might have grown up with that grim old uncle."

"And now she has the run of her papa's castle," Knight said, kissing her untif her frown disappeared. "James has lost his heart to her, and I know exactly how he feels."

She smiled up at him. "And how is that?"

His grasp on her hand tightened. "Happier than I ever thought was possible, because of you, my love. Life is very, very good."