Choosing the Highlander (28 page)

“I’m ready,” Ewan said. “Will, give me your full name.”

“Wilhelm Amittai Murray.”

He had to spell his middle name for Ewan. While the other man wrote the letters, he said to her, “’Tis a Biblical name meaning truth.” A curve of one corner of his mouth acknowledged the secret they shared: his truth sense.

“And your name,” Ewan said, looking up at her.

“Constance Emmaline Thurston.”

Wilhelm went stock still beside her. “What did ye say, lass?”

She repeated her name, confused as to why it should upset him in any way. “Is something wrong?”

“Nay, lass. ’Tis likely a coincidence, but your surname is the same as the last parliamentarian I’d hoped to discuss my judicial act with.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

“Do you have Scots ancestors,” he asked her while Ewan wrote out her name.

She’d noticed Ewan didn’t ask her to spell her name like he’d asked Wilhelm. Wondering why, she answered Wilhelm distractedly, “It’s possible, but my family hasn’t kept the most thorough records.”

She squinted at Ewan’s writing. His penmanship was a tiny scrawl that would have been difficult to read even if it had been upside-down from her perspective.

“There’s an
S
after the
N
,” she said, noticing he’d botched her first name. “And a
C-E
after the second
N
.” He’d left out her middle name all together. He’d spelled Thurston wrong, too, making it
T-U-R-S-T-A-N
.

Before she could correct Ewan any more, Wilhelm said, “The important name is mine. If your father were present, his name would be carefully transcribed as well.”

“That’s completely archaic. Not to mention sexist.” She folded her arms. “Doesn’t my name matter?”

Wilhelm reeled back as if her protest took him off guard. “Of course it does, lass.” Recovering, he pried her arms away from her chest and held both her hands. “I love your name as I love everything about you. But the contract goes directly to the public record in Edinburgh, where it shall be filed according to the spelling of
my
name. If your father were present, Ewan would make a second copy to be filed with your clan’s records, but as no one is here to sign on your behalf, only one contract is needed.”

“I remember my history,” she argued. “Women here can own property and run businesses. Not every woman is expected to be tied to a man. What of those women? When they marry, are their names horribly misspelled?”

Wilhelm glanced at Ewan.

“You want me to rewrite the thing?” Ewan frowned. He wasn’t the fastest at writing. In fact, he seemed to have broken a sweat from the effort.

“Mayhap ’tis for the best,” Wilhelm said, giving Ewan an apologetic look.

“Oh, for goodness sake. You don’t have to treat me like a petulant child who won’t be satisfied until she gets her way. Don’t rewrite it,” she told Ewan, feeling guilty that she’d essentially insulted him when he was doing them this favor. “Please accept my apology. Both of you. If you say it’s a minor detail, I trust you. I shouldn’t have taken offense.”

She couldn’t fly off the handle every time she encountered a cultural difference.

“Apology accepted, lass,” Wilhelm said, dragging her into his arms. He kissed her temple and whispered. “You make me so proud,
mo luaidh.
”

Ewan cleared his throat and said, “Yeah. Arright, then. Sign here, Will.”

Her almost-husband bent over the desk, dipped the quill, and signed his name where Ewan pointed. He had a flowing script dominated by the mountain-like peaks and valleys formed by the capital letters in his name,
W, A,
and
M.

“Now you,” Ewan said.

Wilhelm handed her the quill, and she began to sign her name as she always did, pleased at least her signature would reflect the correct spelling. She’d never written with a quill before, though. It wasn’t as easy as using a pen. The ink made blots in places, and in others it didn’t quite make a solid line. In the end, her signature wasn’t any more legible than Ewan’s transcription of her name.

Wrinkling her nose, she decided not to grumble about how the contract appeared. According to the men, she would never see it again, anyway. Besides, this would be the last time she signed her name thusly. From now on, when she had occasion to sign her full name, it would include a proudly-scribed Murray at the end.

Heavens. I’m a married woman now.
 

Her heart smiled. So did her husband. How handsome he was when he was pleased! It made her want to please him always.

Leslie’s joyous laugher rang in her imagination as Connie shared the moment with her twin the only way she could.

Look at him, Les. He’s mine. I can’t believe he’s mine.
 

She felt Leslie’s imagined approval shine around her like a summer sunrise.

Ewan added his signature to the contract and returned the quill to the inkpot. She noted the date, written out as 26
th
day of December. She’d known the year, 1487, and that it was wintertime, but she hadn’t known the exact date. It seemed Wilhelm had lost his virginity on Christmas and she’d gained a husband on Boxing Day. What a wonderful present!

“I’ll send this off to Edie with my next round of letters,” Ewan said, standing and rubbing his ink-stained fingers on his kilt. “What are you waiting for, man? Kiss your wife.”

Wilhelm crushed her to his chest. His mouth descended on hers. Happiness filled her from head to toe.

How she loved this man! How she wanted to grant him every access to her. Body, mind, and soul. She would hold nothing back. If she gave him enough of herself, maybe it would ease the cracking pain of all she was saying goodbye to by legally binding herself to the past.

No. Not the past. Her present.

From now on, this is where I am. This is where I live. Wilhelm is the man I love.
 

She fell deeper into the kiss, grasping at Wilhelm’s shoulders. His tongue warred with hers, but it was a passionate sparring, not a battle with an intended loser. Victory belonged to both of them.

Wilhelm broke away with blazing eyes. They truly glowed. It was subtle enough that she could tell herself if was just the angle of his face in relation to the candles, but that explanation was wearing thin.

Could she really believe Wilhelm held magic inside of him? Could she believe in something science couldn’t explain?

Con, you’ve traveled through time, for Pete’s sake.
Imagining
Leslie’s exasperation made her smile. Her twin would always be with her.
When are you going to accept the fact that magic exists?
 

It
was
magic, she admitted to herself. And for some reason, she brought it out in him.

“Come,” Wilhelm said. “I have need of you,
mo luaidh
.”

His tone of command made her shiver in a decidedly carnal way. No other man could dictate desires to her and create within her an urge to satisfy them. No other man made her feel like a soft, beautiful woman. Only him. Her husband.

Ewan cleared his throat, and the sound was like a needle scratching a record. She and Wilhelm looked to him as one. “Erm, Will, I doona permit tupping in the tower. I am clergy, after all.”

Her husband glared at Ewan, who began silently shaking a moment before breaking out in thunderous laughter.

“Jesting, man. Jesting. Go enjoy your bride.” He lumbered around the desk and clapped Wilhelm’s shoulder.

Connie couldn’t help her giggles as Wilhelm mock-punched Ewan in the stomach.

It was far from the wedding she’d imagined for herself, but she would certainly never forget it.

Chapter 24

“Honestly, Wilhelm. Where’s the fire?”

Constance had said the phrase at the abbey, as well, when he’d dashed out of doors to search for her, having found her bed empty. He gathered it meant she didn’t approve of his haste.

But he had good reason for haste, and ’twas not merely because he couldn’t wait to bed her. He continued jogging down the stairs to their guest room, leading her by her hand. Outside the door, he said, “Close your eyes.”

She did not choose to obey.

He grinned at the challenge she presented.

“Why?” She dragged out the word, narrowing her eyes.

“I have a surprise for you. Now, listen to your husband and close. Your. Eyes.” With each word, he drew her closer until their bodies were pressed together.

She huffed a put-out sigh but did as he commanded, lips pinched in a smile she tried to stifle.

He opened the door and led her in, loving the feel of both her hands in his, loving the trust she showed him even more. “Keep them closed.”

“For how long.”

“Until I give the word.”

“I repeat, dear husband. How. Long.”

He kissed her eyelids, one at a time. “’Tis a good surprise,” he promised. “Verra good. Now do as I say.” He patted her bottom, eliciting a jump from her. Then he left for the downstairs parlor.

Returning, he found her standing facing the door with arms folded over her chest. Her eyes were still closed.

“That better be you,” she said.

“Who else would it be?”

“Ewan, come to show me more of his wolf figures.” Her bonny lips quirked, telling him her ire was in jest.

“He willna bother us tonight. Likely he’ll remain at the top of the tower on watch.” While he spoke, he poured the pail of boiling water into the hipbath he’d dragged from Ewan’s living quarters.

“What on Earth are you doing? Is that water I hear? Why is our room so hot?”

The guest room wasn’t large. She likely felt the heat rising from the bath and saw the glow from the fireplace from behind her closed eyes.

“Patience, love.” He fetched the full pot over the fire in their room and added that to the bath. Testing the water, he found it decadently warm, almost too warm for comfort.

“You’re lucky I’m smitten.” Her grumbling made him grin some more.

He circled her and began undoing her dress, which forced her to drop her arms.

“I’m going to open my eyes,” she warned.

“Not yet.”

She harrumphed. “This better be good.”

“You’ll find I’m a man of my word.” Sliding her dress and shift down, he exposed her breasts. “Saints above, these are perfect.”

“Wilhelm Murray, if you think you can ogle me and not let me look my fill of you, you have another think coming.” She opened her eyes, and they blazed with indignation. Then they widened with pleasure when she saw the steaming bath. “Is that for me?”

“Hm. I was thinking of using it for myself, but I suppose you may go first.”

She swatted at him playfully than elbowed him out of the way to get to the bath.  Testing the water, she moaned—just from the touch of the heat on her hand. The sound of pleasure made his cock twitch. Aye, he would make certain she had frequent hot baths.

Made of hammered copper, the hipbath was one of the few luxuries Ewan kept at the tower. Sized for a man, the basin allowed Constance to sink into up to her ribs, an action she did slowly and with much sighing. When she’d fully seated herself, her breasts floated just on the surface, peach nipples playing a coy game of hide and seek.

’Twould take a miracle to bathe her and not expire from lust. Mayhap he should bathe her with his eyes closed. Steeling himself for the task, he dipped the ewer his co-conspirator had found and shielded her eyes with one hand while he wetted her hair.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” Her voice slurred with relaxation as she allowed him to cradle her head with his other hand.

“Aye. But I’ll never tire of hearing it.”

Recalling baths his nanny had given him when he was a boy, he took his time lathering her hair, working his fingers over her scalp. Was it as soothing for her as he remembered?

No bath at a nanny’s hands had ever been as intimate as this. He tended to his
wife
tonight. She would be his to tend for all time. Provided all went well in Inverness. Since a good outcome was far from guaranteed, he guarded his happiness.

It was imperative they steer clear of Ruthven until he’d found a magistrate to hear their testimony. By now his father would have received the letter he’d sent from the abbey. With luck, Kenrick would be packing for Inverness and planning to leave on the morrow. Remaining out of sight in Inverness wouldn’t be difficult. He didn’t have many acquaintances there. So long as he didn’t kick his name about, they should avoid notice.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Constance had tipped her head to gaze up at him. Her eyes of every color sparkled like fine whisky.
Och,
what was he doing fashing about Inverness when he had a bonny wife to bed?

He glided his fingers along her silky-wet skin to cup her jaw. She let him caress her throat, her most vulnerable place. From there, he explored her slender collar bones then the smooth slope of her chest that led to those decadent buoyant breasts. Between the trust she showed him and the delights of her nude form, his cock throbbed for attention.

“I was thinking about Inverness,” he admitted. “But I believe I have somat better to think about.”

“Mmmmm. I agree. In fact, I’ll bet I can find a way to stop you thinking altogether.” She grasped his hands a moment before his splayed fingers would have reached her nipples. Tugging him around the basin, she said, “There’s room for two in here, but I’m afraid you’ll have to tolerate me sitting on your lap.” She flicked at the trews he’d changed into since his plaid had been sodden upon their arrival. “And you might want to take these off.”

“Think you to command me?” He hardly recognized his husky voice. This woman brought out animalistic need in him.

“Only suggesting how you might make your wife happy, my darling.”

He shed his shirt and trews faster than ever before. “My father tells me a happy wife makes for a happy husband. Mayhap, we’ll put that to the test.”

“Yes, please.”

He stepped into the hipbath and her waiting arms, and as she’d predicted, it didn’t take long for him to cede thought to instinct.