Whence Came a Prince (71 page)

Looking down at the wonder on his face brought a lump to her throat. Jamie was anxious to see this child safely delivered. “I am afraid one of the wedding customs will have to be put aside,” she said, lightly
stroking his hair. “I cannot flit for seven days before the wedding.”
Like Rose did to Aunt Meg’s.

His brow darkened. “I do not intend to let you out of my sight. Your confinement has begun, lass.”

“I pray I’ll still be permitted to write letters,” she teased him. “I’ve already sent posts to Neda at Kingsgrange and Aunt Meg at Burnside.”

“Have you indeed?” Jamie pressed one hand into the small of her back, rubbing circles in the very spot she needed it most. “I have written a few letters myself. Including one to my Uncle Lachlan.”

Her bairn kicked especially hard, as if equally surprised at the news. On Jeanie Wilson’s last visit, the midwife had told Leana the child would arrive before St. Andrew’s Day.
’Twill not be a December bairn, mem. I can tell ye that.
Leana felt the child turning yet again.

Unaware of her distractions, Jamie continued, “When we parted ways at Gatehouse, I made a pledge to your father: ‘I will have no wife but your daughter.’ ”

“Oh …” Leana understood.
He meant Rose.

“Yet I did not mention his daughter by name. The Almighty stilled my tongue.” He stood and guided her toward their supper. “He kenned what the future held, Leana, even when we could not.”

Before he opened the door into the hall, Jamie touched his lips to hers once more. A longer kiss, brimming with promise. “The best is yet to come, my bonny bride.”

J
amie was stationed on the lawn to welcome his arriving guests yet could not resist glancing up at the sitting room window. Leana was just down the hall, he knew, being dressed by Eliza. He had not spoken with her all morning. A wedding custom, strictly enforced. Ivy had stood guard at the bottom of the stair, cautioning him, “Ye canna see the bride, Mr. McKie. ’Tis not done.”

There was some benefit to be found: If he could not go up the stair, Leana could not come down. When the gardener from Bargaly House arrived earlier with the roses Jamie had purchased, the flowers were arranged throughout the first floor rooms without Leana appearing and spoiling his surprise.

The expense was considerable; the look on her face would be worth every shilling.

Vases of roses in every hue—pale pink, creamy white, dusty rose, amber yellow, purplish red—filled the house with color, defying the gray November skies. Leana had mentioned in passing how she wished they might have roses for the wedding. Now they did—every stem in Bargaly’s hothouse. Dozens upon dozens, with every thorn removed at his request.

“Leuk, Ian!” Annabel strolled up, his son in her capable hands. “ ’Tis yer faither, all dressed for the waddin.”

Jamie straightened the lad’s wrinkled coat, another of Leana’s creations, and smoothed back the boy’s wayward hair. “I should have sent my valet to
your
room, young man.” He smiled at Annabel, lest she take offense. She’d done her best; Ian was simply his father’s son, easily
rumpled. “Do not stray far, lass. Leana will want her son where she can see him.”

“Oo aye, she said the verra same thing.” Annabel stepped aside as another contingent of guests rode up, attended by two lads from the stables. Every pair of hands at Glentrool was hard at work this day.

At least the weather was cooperative. The sky was the color of a newly minted shilling, a single wash of silver high above them. Cold but dry, the air bore no threat of rain or snow, a boon for those coming some distance.

“Brother!”

Jamie looked up to find Evan dismounting, his face ruddier than ever from the long ride north. The two men clasped hands, then embraced, slapping each others backs. Jamie still marveled at their reconciliation.
How pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.

“Sorry to have left Judith at home, but she’s not in a traveling way just now.” Evan’s grin was anything but subtle. “I’ll be a father again come May. And
you
will have your second child … ah …”

“Any second,” Jamie finished for him. Only yestreen Leana had cautioned him that the babe could come sooner than they’d expected. Not December, but late November. He did not voice his deepest fears or let her see them in his eyes.
Keep her safe, Lord.

Jamie drew his thoughts back to the present and the blithe occasion at hand. “I’m glad you’ve come, Evan.” He gestured toward the front door. “You’ll find a seat waiting for you in the drawing room.” The brothers parted with a pledge to speak at length before day’s end.

Jamie scanned the road, watching for two invited guests in particular. They should have reached Monnigaff yestreen by way of mail coach on the route from Carlisle to Portpatrick. He’d sent sufficient silver for their passage, as well as a letter to their employer, requesting they be released from their duties for a week and enclosing enough silver to ease their employer’s loss of their services. Now he could only wait and watch for them.

It was noon when Reverend Moodie appeared, his horse pulling a small cart with the bride stool. He pretended to scowl, with little success. “You’ll be charged for this, you ken.”

Jamie laughed as he reached in his purse for the necessary coins.

“To be honest, I’m ashamed to take it,” the reverend admitted, even as he pocketed the silver. “We received a most generous offering in our collection box a few month’s ago.” Reverend Moodie eyed him with amusement. “Indeed, that sack of gold showed up the very Sunday you arrived in Monnigaff, Mr. McKie.”

“What a strange coincidence,” Jamie murmured, directing two servants to unload the small pew used only for weddings. “You will find all in readiness for you, sir. Kindly follow the bride stool into the drawing room.”

The flow of guests increased as one o’ the clock drew nigh. Apparently no one in the parish intended to miss such a scandalous event, however much they might disapprove.

Finally Jamie saw them. His long-awaited guests walking toward him on the hard-packed dirt road. A lanky man and a copper-headed woman. Dressed in their best Sabbath clothes. Grinning like brownies.

“Duncan!” he called out, not caring how undignified he looked hastening across the lawn to greet a pair of servants. “Neda, welcome!” He embraced each one in turn, his throat squeezed tight as a fist.

Duncan’s eyes were bright with tears as he handed his handkerchief to Neda, who dabbed at her cheeks. “Ye were kind tae send the silver, Mr. McKie. The laird was most impressed.”

“It was good of the man to let you come. I ken you’ll be missed at Kingsgrange.” Jamie threw his arms round their shoulders and led them toward the loch. “As we’ve not much time, my plan is thus: Wait on the pier and watch for Leana to join me at the door. Then you shall stroll up and surprise her, aye?”

When they were settled on a stone bench, Neda’s blithe expression grew more sober. “Mr. McKie, ’tis not the day for sad thochts, but I canna neglect me duties. Our hearts were
sair
at the news of Rose’s passing. She was a dear lass, and we ken ye baith luved her verra much.”

“Aye.” Jamie’s gaze met hers, grateful for her sympathy. “We will always love our Rose.”

“It maun be said, what ye’re doin’ is richt.” Duncan gripped his arm. “Dinna let some foolish soul tell ye itherwise. Leana is the wife God meant ye tae have.”

Jamie laughed in spite of the tightness in his chest. “You and my father share the same opinion.” He consulted his watch, then glanced over his shoulder. “When you see her, come along without delay.”

Jamie left them with some reluctance, though they would have plenty of time later for visiting. All was in readiness now; he needed only a bride.

No sooner had he reached the door than the bridal party strolled round the corner of the house, their laughter preceding them. Holding up Leana’s hem, the maids cleared her path of late-arriving guests and delivered her to Jamie’s side.

“Leana, my love.” He held out his hands to receive his bride.

Her hair was unbound, a halo of gold round her shining face, draped in a lacy
kell.
Her gown was the color of bluebells in May.
A fine choice. Rose.
And her eyes were filled with a love he would spend the rest of his life trying to deserve.

Leana smiled up at him as she took his offered hand. “Jamie, how fine you look.”

“I am glad my attire pleases you, lass.” He’d not given his costume a moment’s consideration, though his valet had fussed over him for an hour. “The shirt you’ve made for me is the finest in my clothes press. However, not one pair of eyes will notice it once they see the woman on my arm.” He leaned closer, inhaling her scent. “You are the most beautiful lass in all of Scotland. And I, its luckiest man.”

She blushed like the bride she was, the very shade of the roses in the entrance hall.

At his request, the maids had taken her out the back door so she would not see the roses until they entered the house. Soon, but not yet. The Hastingses were his first surprise.

He spied them coming from behind her and grinned. “Leana, I’ve taken the liberty of spending some of the estate’s good silver on bringing two guests I thought you might welcome to Glentrool.”

Just before Leana turned round, Jamie watched the truth dawn in her eyes like the sun breaking over the horizon.

“
Neda!
”

L
eana threw herself into Neda’s embrace without a thought for her carefully pressed wedding gown or her neatly pinned kell. “I cannot believe you are
here
!”

“Ye have yer guid husband tae thank.” Neda hugged her for a moment, then held her at arms length. “Come, let us see yer loosome goun.”

Leana brushed away her tears, knowing it was not her gown Neda wanted to see but her bairn. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

“A fair sight for sair eyes. Not lang in comin’, I’d say.” Neda smoothed her hands over Leana’s imported lace kell, a gift from Jamie, and shook out the wrinkles in Leana’s full sleeves. “Ye did leave somethin unstitched ’til ye were dressed, did ye not?”

Leana smiled at the reminder. It was unlucky for a bride’s gown to be completely finished until the day she wore it. “Fear not. I stitched on a button this morning.”

“I’m afraid thar’s nae hope for
ye
, lad,” Duncan told Jamie. “For ’tis unchancie for a man tae marry a woman wi’ a bairn.” When Jamie started to protest, Duncan added, “Except whan the bairn is his, o’ course.”

The four of them laughed, though Leana could not imagine any heart lighter than her own. To have Jamie as her bridegroom and his child due in mere days and Neda on hand for her wedding! “Have you seen Ian?” Leana waved over Annabel, who was standing nearby as promised. “Hasn’t he grown, though?”

Neda and Duncan made a proper fuss over the lad until a stern voice demanded their attention.

“Mr. McKie.” Reverend Moodie stood at the door, his arms folded across his chest. “Were you planning on marrying today or not?”

“Most assuredly.” Jamie sent Duncan, Neda, and Annabel in ahead of them and called the piper to his task. Since there would be no procession from house to kirk, the piper would stroll round the mains three times like a clock while Leana and Jamie made their entrance. The young piper tucked his tartan bag under his arm, filling the bag with air. After much grunting and squeaking, the chanter finally settled on a happy note, and the lad walked off in rhythm with his music, the sound carrying across the loch and echoing off Mulldonach.

“I like the tune you chose, Leana.”

She sang the first line. “ ‘I luved ne’er a laddie but one.’ You know it’s true, Jamie McKie. You are the only man I have ever loved.”

He looked at her for a long time. “And you, Leana McBride, are the only woman I will love for as long as God grants me life. Come, lass. Be my bride.”

When the door opened, Leana saw their neighbors gathered in the entrance hall, lining the walls to make room for the blithe couple. But that was not all she saw.

Rose’s. Everywhere.

“Jamie …” She hung on to his arm, overwhelmed at the sight. “I
did
smell roses! I thought it was some sweet memory of my sister. How did you … Where did they … Oh, Jamie, ’tis more than …”

“Nae, ’tis not enough. Could never be enough.” He kissed her brow through the thin veil of her kell. “Before this day is done, you will choose your favorite rose and scatter the petals across our marriage bed.”

He remembers.
She took a long, shaky breath, though her bairn gave her little room for air. Alas, they would not have a wedding night like most couples. Yet to hold Jamie in her arms and shower him with kisses … aye, there would be pleasure in that.

Jamie, dressed in his new coat and waistcoat, led her through the door. She’d chosen his dark blue fabric to complement her dress, and the tailor had done a fine job, but Jamie was right: Every eye was on her.

Yet they did not look down at her bairn, as she’d feared, nor at her new gown; they looked into her eyes. Many smiled. Some shed tears.

Leana both smiled and wept.

She, who had sat on the stool of repentance, would sit on the bride stool. Her sins, which were many, had been forgiven. And God, in his infinite mercy, had given her the desires of her heart.
Every day will I bless thee. Every day, Lord.

Jamie escorted her into the drawing room, ablaze with candles and fragrant with roses. Round Glentrool the piper’s merry tune went forth, while Leana sang the lyrics in her heart.
He is willing to make me his own, and his own I’m willing to be.

The bride stool, nicked and scraped from many a wedding, had been placed before the hearth, where pine logs burned and crackled. Above it, the mantel was blanketed with roses in soft yellow, rich cream, and pale pink. Chairs were scattered everywhere, all of them claimed. Many guests stood, while others craned at the doorways. Annabel held up Ian so he could see both his parents; the lad clapped, generating several titters. Neda and Duncan were seated close to the stool, and Alec McKie as well. All three were beaming.