The Marquess's Scottish Bride: A Sweet & Clean Historical Romance (The Chase Brides Book 2) (50 page)

AFTER TELLING
his story to the authorities, Jason walked the streets for hours, far past the time it was safe to be outside without linkboys to light the way. Midnight had come and gone before he mounted the steps to the town house and threw the door open.

“Jason! Where have you been?” Kendra must have been watching by the window, because she flung herself at him before swiftly pulling back. “You’re soaking wet.”

He hadn’t noticed. “I have something to tell you and Ford. Please fetch him. Now.”

“Shouldn’t you dry off first?” Her gaze trailed from his face down to the marble floor, where a small puddle was collecting at his feet. “Cait’s upstairs—”

“Now.”

“All right. I’ll go get Ford.”

He strode to the drawing room, lit a fire, wrapped himself in the costly embroidered throw that was wadded in a corner of the brocade couch. And waited, pacing the dark red and blue carpet.

“Sit down,” he said when the twins came in.

Obediently Kendra perched on one of the chairs, but Ford walked to a small inlaid cabinet. “I could do with a brandy. And you?”

Jason nodded his assent and took the goblet when Ford had poured. He waved him into another chair. “How is Caithren?”

“She’s all right,” Kendra said carefully. “Disappointed and grieving, of course, but all right. Jason, she—”

“Good.” Concern etched his sister’s wholesome features, but he couldn’t muster the energy to comfort her or listen to this now. Cait was important—the most important thing of all. But his world had turned upside down today, and he had to work that out.

He sipped the brandy, feeling it burn a path to his empty stomach. “Geoffrey Gothard was our brother.”

“He was
what
?” the twins said in unison.

“Our brother.” He tugged the throw more tightly around his shoulders. “Our half brother, to be more precise. As well as Scarborough’s. Our father got their mother with child before he wed ours,” he said, almost mechanically. He was still having trouble wrapping his mind around that fact. “And he left her, pregnant, knowing she was pregnant.
Our
father.”

An uneasy silence reigned over the room. No one moved. Jason could hear the clock ticking on the mantel.

Ford blew out a slow breath. “You said he
was
our brother.”

“He’s dead.” When Kendra rose as though to come to him, Jason waved her back. “At Emerald MacCallum’s hands. But I do believe I was pushed to the point where I might have done it myself.”

Ford nodded his understanding. “He threatened the woman you love.”

“No. I mean, yes—that would have been enough. But it was more than that.” Rubbing his hands to warm them up, Jason moved closer to the fire. “All these years—”

He broke off.

The words simply wouldn’t come out, wouldn’t align themselves in his head.

“All these years,” Kendra repeated gently, “you’ve tried to live up to the legend of our father—the brave, honorable man who gave up his family to fight for his king. To fight in a losing war, to die in a losing war, the ultimate sacrifice.”

He drew a deep breath. “That vision of him was wrong.”

“Yes, it was. But you weren’t ready to see it.” Kendra reached for Ford’s brandy and took a fortifying sip. “You were left as the head of the family too young. Too tender an age for so much responsibility. But our father—and our mother—left together due to love for each other and the monarchy, not lack of love for us.”

“I’ve always known that,” Jason said, his voice rough to his own ears. He cleared his throat. “Unlike Colin, I never took it as a personal affront. But now we know he left another family, too. And…”

He paused to take a sip of his brandy—a gulp, truth be told—and stared into the goblet.

“It seems I’ve always had responsibilities. I resented the pointless deaths that left me with those responsibilities, and I balked at violence…any violence, pointless or otherwise…because it reminded me how they died.” He looked up. “And I hated myself for that.”

“Abhorring violence is no sin,” Ford protested.

Rising again, Kendra approached, and Jason didn’t stop her this time. Her light green eyes burned into his. “Our father hadn’t been so brave and honorable, had he? Or responsible. He’d been a man. Human.”

It was the same conclusion he’d come to while walking in the rain. And it meant it was time to give himself permission to be human as well. Free of Father’s shadow. Free to live his life with his own set of values. In his own way.

He felt at peace with himself for the first time in…he couldn’t say how long. It was a restful feeling.

But it meant little without Caithren.

If only she’d forgive him.

“Cait and we…” His voice cracked. “We all lost brothers today.”

“But ours was not worth claiming.” Ford stood up. “Go to her, Jason. She needs you. She’s hurting.”

Kendra’s mouth gaped open at her twin. “When did you get to be so compassionate?”

He shot her a scathing glare, then turned back to their brother. “She’s upstairs.” His lips turned up in a hint of a smile. “You’d better hope that tall cousin of hers doesn’t have it in his mind to protect her from you.”

Jason couldn’t smile, not now. And just let Cameron Leslie try to stand in his way.

His heart pounded as he climbed the stairs to the room he’d given her last night. He eased the door open and slipped inside, his knees going wobbly just at the sight of her lying on the bed. Her cousin sat in a chair alongside.

He swallowed hard. “Caithren.”

She rolled over to face him, her eyes brimming with tears.

Cameron rose and walked to the door. “Remember what I told you, Cait, I beg you. Your happiness comes before—”

“Leave us, Cam.” Her voice sounded breathless, uneven, doubtless from hours of crying. “Please.”

Wordlessly, Cameron slipped through the door, and it clicked shut behind him.

Jason stepped closer. His fingers loosened. The embroidered throw slid from his shoulders to the floor.

“You hate me, don’t you?” he whispered.

She sat up. “You’re all wet. You should dry off.”

He took another hesitant step closer. “Cait—”

“You hurt me,” she said.

He’d go to his knees if he thought it would make a difference, but he stood frozen in place. “I’m so sorry. More sorry than I can possibly express. If I’d known earlier it was your brother I’d killed, I’d have told you immediately, I swear. But I loved you by then, you see—I couldn’t bear to bring you the news that would make you so unhappy. That would part us forever. I wanted those last hours with you more than I wanted my own life.”

Her eyes widened through the tears. But she hugged herself, closing herself off. “You didn’t trust me.” She swiped miserably at the wetness on her cheeks. “And you still don’t trust me. How can you say in one breath that you love me, and in the next that I would be so shallow as to hold an accidental death against you?”

“But—”

“I know Adam’s killing wasn’t intentional, any more than my own killing of Wat.”

A trickle of relief coursed through his blood. Guilt slowly began to fade, replaced by a tremulous hope. “But would you feel the same way if you hadn’t killed Wat?” he wondered. “Would you have understood regardless?”

She shook her head, looking thoroughly disgusted. “See, there you go again. I’m aggrieved you don’t think better of me. Do you remember that night in Newark, when you had the bad dream?”

He remembered. A hideous nightmare and an angel that soothed him. Wearing a ridiculous white night rail. “You said you didn’t fault me. You said you understood.”

“And just what do you think would ever change that?”

He was afraid to believe, but he could see she harbored no anger, no resentment. It wasn’t in her.

“I shall expect more regard from here on out, Jason Chase.”

He blinked. “Does that mean—”

“You’ve left me alone all night, with little to do but think. And I think I will marry you, Lord Cainewood. Never mind that you haven’t asked. But only on two conditions.”

His heart soared. “Anything.”

She climbed from the bed, and he reached to pull her into an embrace. But she skipped out of reach. “You will hear me out.”

“Very well.” He crossed his arms to ensure they’d behave. “I’m listening.”

“One. You will not underestimate me again.”

“You can wager on that.” He risked a small, hopeful smile. “And two?”

Blowing out a breath, she fixed him with a deep blue gaze. “Cameron must have Leslie. The part that came through my mother, I mean. With Adam’s death, he’s already come into the title and small entailed lands. But those lands alone cannot support a man.”

“Cait—”

“Nay. You will hear me out. Cameron hasn’t asked for this, and he would likely strangle me if he knew I was asking for him. According to my father’s will, the vast majority of Leslie becomes my husband’s should I marry. But Cam deserves all of Leslie, Jase—it should have been his in the first place. He was a better son to Da than Adam and then some. So even though Kendra told me you need money, I won’t see Cam go without his due—I won’t take my happiness at his expense. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“And Caithren Leslie is always fair,” he proclaimed. “Now, you will hear
me
out.”

She sat on the bed, apparently reserving judgment.

“I was only going to say, back when you interrupted me, that Cameron can have the property—the only part of Leslie I need is you. And I
do
need you, Cait. More than I can say.”

“Oh.” She looked properly chagrined, but a tiny smile tugged at her lips.

“And I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket. “Hold out your hand.” She did, and he gazed into her eyes as he folded her fingers around a flash of green. “When it changes hands, a change of heart,” he quoted solemnly.

“My amulet?” She looked at it, then back at him. “Where—how did you get this?”

“I found it in the square. When I went looking for you. The chain was broken, so I put the amulet on this ribbon until I have time to get it repaired.”

She stared down at it for a moment, fiddling with the narrow black satin ribbon, then slowly held it out to him. “Keep it.”

“Pardon?” He didn’t reach for it, just gaped at her in disbelief.

“I thought that if I wore it I’d be safe. But it brought me more luck when you had it. Then I found the strength to save myself from the Gothards. All by myself, without the emerald to depend on. And it brought me your offer of love and marriage. At least I think it did—you haven’t asked me yet, and I’ve been waiting nearly two days already.”

He dropped to one knee and took her hands in his, the emerald trapped between their fingers. “Will you marry me, Caithren Leslie?”

She pulled her hands away. “Lick your right thumb.”

He was speechless for a moment. “Pardon?”

“It’s a Scottish custom. Lick it.”

“I cannot believe—”

“
Lick it.
” For emphasis, she licked her own.

Shaking his head, he did the same.

She took his hand and pressed their wet thumbs tightly together. “It’s a bond. Now ask me again.”

He captured her gaze with his. “Caithren Leslie—” His voice broke, and he sucked in a breath. “Will you marry me?”

With a look so radiant it tugged at his heart, she pulled him up and slipped the necklace over his head. When he touched it, almost as reverently as she always had, she smiled.

“Jason Chase, I thought you would never ask.”

And her lips gave him his answer.

“HURRY,” KENDRA
urged. “It’s about to begin.”

“I think not.” Her sister-in-law, Amy, grinned. “They won’t be starting the ceremony without the bride.”

Caithren turned from the window, where she’d been watching a small cluster of people gather in the bright sun that flooded Cainewood Castle’s quadrangle. Blinking in the chamber’s relative dimness, she walked to Kendra’s four-poster bed and slid the gold brocade robe from her shoulders.

“There’s no need to rush.” Amy held up a sheer chemise. “Dressing for your wedding should be a calm, soothing experience.” She shot Kendra a warning glance as she slipped the garment over Cait’s head.

“Like yours was?” Kendra returned with a lift of one expressive brow. “I seem to remember you shaking in your—excuse me,
my
—red-heeled shoes.”

Amy’s eyes sparkled. “That was different. I was terrified. A shopkeeper’s daughter marrying an earl. It seemed wrong.” She smiled, tossing one long black ringlet over her plum velvet-clad shoulder. “But it was right.”

Kendra smoothed her mint satin skirts. “Cait has nothing to be nervous about.”

“Nay.” Caithren rolled her eyes. “Daughters of provincial Scottish baronets wed English marquesses every day of the week.” The ladies laughed. “But I’m not nervous. This is right, too.”

She believed it, with all her heart and soul. Still, it was no small step to be taking. Cait drew a deep breath and lifted her wedding gown off the bed. The first English gown that had been specifically made for her. Fashioned of sky blue silk, it had a silver tissue underskirt and real silver lace edging the scooped—but not
too
scooped—neckline. The sleeves were double-puffed with a spill of silver lace at the wrists, the stomacher—stiffened with the softer buckram rather than wood, by her request—embroidered with scrolling silver designs.