Emerald (Jewel Trilogy, Book 2) (49 page)

"Not to mention," Kendra whispered more fiercely, "there are no bushes under those windows."

Caithren turned to see the windows and gasped. Something white floated beyond the leaded panes, dipping and bobbing eerily.

Like the monk she'd seen in the tunnel beneath Newark.

Jason turned too, and, despite himself, drew in a sharp breath.

"What? What?" Kendra whispered frantically, her eyes shut tight. "What is it?"

"It's…I'm not sure." Calmly Cameron sipped his wine. "But a ghost isn't necessarily something to be afraid of, aye?"

A sudden clatter from the chimney echoed in the high, arched chamber. Cait gripped Jason's hand harder, and Clarice grabbed for her daughter and somehow ended on Cameron's lap. They all swung around, their gazes riveted to the rattling fireplace.

"Oh, my God!" Kendra breathed. "He's up on the roof, just like Sally said! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"

They all flinched when the dining room door swung open. A rush of wind sent the tapestries fluttering against the stone walls. Evidently forgetting he was supposed to look fearless, Jason clutched Cait, and she let out a high-pitched squeak. When Kendra screamed, the rest of the females joined her.

With an unnerving suddenness, mad laughter burst forth to accompany the rattling. Colin rushed in, whipping off a white sheet with a grand gesture.

They all stared at him, dumbstruck, as he strode to the fireplace and bent to shout up the chimney. "Ford! Come on down!"

"Bloody hell." Jason disentangled himself from Cait and sat back.

Amy extracted her fingers from Kendra's and flexed her hand, shaking her head at her husband. "I cannot credit that I fell for that."

Colin grinned wickedly, raising one black brow.

"Fell for what?" Caithren asked.

"Colin," Kendra said ruefully, "is famous—or perhaps I should say
infamous
—for his practical jokes."

"Oh." Cait's gaze flickered to Jason. "Well," she told Amy, "if it makes you feel any better, Jase fell for it, too."

"I did not."

"Then it was someone else's heart I felt pounding beneath my hand?"

She giggled when he sputtered.

Red-faced, Clarice slid off Cam's lap and onto her chair. "There's no ghost, then?"

"None." Colin's green eyes sparkled with mischief. "The staff was quite obliging with the mysterious sightings. I wouldn't be surprised if they're about now, waiting to see how it all turned out."

The door opened, and they all looked into the corridor expectantly, but it was only Ford returning from his chain-rattling responsibilities. He took one look at Cait's good-natured pout and burst into peals of laughter.

"On our wedding night!" she chided, but she couldn't help laughing along with him.

Cam rose and, settling Mary on her own chair, walked over to shake Colin's hand. "Well done, I must say. This is my kind of family."

"Then welcome to it." Colin looked to Caithren. "You, too."

He went to the door and signaled, whereby more servants than were necessary paraded in carrying the many dishes that comprised the wedding supper. They smiled conspiratorially as they set down platter after platter, slanting sidewise glances at Colin and each other before parading back out.

Steaming dishes of chicken cullis, fricandeau of beef, and artichoke pie wafted their scents toward Caithren's nose. She
did
feel like part of this family. Jason's hand squeezed hers beneath the table. One of his feet moved to tangle with hers, and his leg pressed against her thigh, making her face heat with thoughts of their wedding night to come. When she turned to him, she felt so warm and happy she couldn't quite believe it.

A grand sallet sat on the table, a bed of young greens with mandarin oranges, eggs, and long sprigs of rosemary standing tall, stuck into lemon halves and hung with cherries. But Kendra went for a cake.

"She always eats dessert first," Ford said at the look on Cait's face.

Kendra smiled, licking marzipan off her lips. "I might not have room for it later." She took another bite. "Would you like some?"

Cait shook her head and reached for some chicken. Toasts were drunk and good-natured teasing abounded. An hour later, when the meal was finished and everyone still sat around talking, she pushed back her chair and rose.

They all turned to look at her.

"A Scots funeral is merrier than an English wedding," she declared. "Whatever happened to that bagpiper?"

Jason shrugged. "I think he's eating in the kitchen."

"Well, would somebody fetch him already?" She moved from the table and shook out her skirts. "I'll be wanting to dance."

While Ford went off to do her bidding, she gave the others instructions. "Hold hands in a circle, lads and lassies alternating. That's it. Now, who has a handkerchief?" When Colin produced one, she handed it to her cousin. "Cameron, you take the middle since you know what to do."

When the piper arrived, Caithren surprised everyone by kicking off her shoes, then running to scoop up her lucky silver coin when it rolled across the floor. Laughing, Kendra and Amy doffed their shoes as well. Although they couldn't cajole Clarice into dancing in stockinged feet, at least her shoes were flat and sensible. Wee Mary wore flat shoes, too, but she was perfectly happy to get rid of them and her stockings, besides.

"Very well." Cait turned to the piper as Ford took his place in the circle. "We'll have a reel first, if you please."

Around and around they went in time to the rousing tune, until Cameron came from the center to Cait. The circling stopped, and he laid the lace-edged hankie in a neat square at her feet. They knelt on either side, and she bestowed him with a kiss on the lips. This met with mixed laughter and gasps until Cait snatched up the handkerchief and took her place in the middle.

Around they went again, dancing until she chose Jason. Their kiss was long and deep, causing much throat-clearing and finally applause. After Jason bowed and went into the center, the circling resumed.

Jason chose Amy, and Amy chose Colin, and Colin chose Kendra, and Kendra chose Ford, and Ford chose Mary, and no one was surprised when Mary chose Cameron. By the time Cam chose Clarice they were all worn out, and Cait signaled the piper to take a rest before Clarice had to go to her knees.

Just in time—as Clarice's cheeks had gone even pinker than her dress.

"A kissing dance!" Kendra said, breathlessly making her way to a chair. "I've never heard of such a thing!"

"There's much kissing at Scottish weddings." Cait winked at Cameron, still hovering close by Clarice. "A kiss can be claimed at the beginning and end of each and every dance. Now, get up, all you lazybones. We'll have a strathspey next, and a hornpipe after that."

The piper played those and more, and some English tunes as well, and if the familiar notes sounded a bit odd wafting from the pipes, nobody cared. It was past midnight before Cait let the poor musician go and the wedding party began stumbling off to bed with a lot of final kisses and good nights.

While Ford went off to fetch a footman to see Clarice and Mary home, Cameron kissed Cait on the cheek. "Lang may yer lum reek—an' may he huv the coal tae fill it."

Jason's brow creased. "What is that, Gaelic?"

"Nay." Cait laughed. "We don't know the Gaelic. After all this time with me, you still cannot understand plain English when you hear it, aye?" She smiled. "He was wishing we live long and well."

"I thank you, then. I think." Jason clapped Cameron on the shoulder. "And I wish you a good night."

"He wants me to leave you," Cam said to Cait.

"Aye, and I second the request." Minutes earlier she'd felt exhausted, but her body came alive at the thought of the night ahead. "I'd thank you to escort our guests to the door and then take to your bed."

"Good night to you, then, sweet Cait." A little drunkenly, she thought, her cousin lifted little Mary from the chair where she was sleeping and beckoned Clarice to follow him from the chamber.

As she turned to Jason, Cait's heart thumped in anticipation. Locking his gaze on hers in a way that set the pit of her stomach to fluttering, he waited until Cam's footsteps had faded, then grabbed her hand and pulled her running up the staircase.

When he stopped before his bedchamber door, she wound her arms around his neck and went up on her toes to press her mouth to his. "You must carry me over the threshold," she whispered against his lips. "It's bad luck if I trip."

"Well, we wouldn't want to start with bad luck." Her eyes slid closed as his tongue swept into her mouth, hot and exciting. His lips still sealed to hers, he caught her up and brought her inside. When her feet hit the plush carpet she reluctantly opened her eyes, then blinked.

And blinked again.

The chamber was lit by candles, seemingly hundreds of them. They marched across the dressing table and along the windowsill, their flames reflecting off the beveled diamond panes. They graced the bedside tables and the massive headboard beneath the cobalt blue canopy. They sat on stands, on the floor, atop the tall, carved clothes press. But the brightest concentration flanked both ends of a wee table with a chair on either side…and their backgammon board in the center.

He swept the hair off the back of her neck and planted his lips there, warm and cherishing. "You've pulled even," he murmured, the vibrations on her nape making her arch in pleasure, "but not for long. I intend to win this eve."

"You want to play backgammon?" With a gasp of disbelief, she turned to him. "On our wedding night?"

"Um-hmm." He nodded solemnly. "I remembered this morning that when I bought the set, we agreed to come up with something to wager. Then we never did. So I've settled on a forfeit."

Warily she backed up, not certain she liked the look in his eyes. "And what might that be?"

His smile made her skin tingle. "Our clothing."

"What?" She took another step back and sat on the bed.

"Our clothing." Coming close, he took her by the shoulders and raised her to stand. His voice turned low and silky. "Whoever loses will have to remove an item of clothing. Until we are both…how do you put it?" A trace of eroticism in his smile made her breath catch. "In the scud?"

This was not her idea of a wedding night. "Can't we just take all our clothes off now?" She molded herself against his hard body and kissed him on the chin, which was as high as she could reach without his cooperation. "I'll play backgammon with you tomorrow. I promise."

"Hmm…" He bent his head, and his mouth took hers in a kiss that was desperately intimate, but short and unsatisfying. "I think not."

"But I've got the stomacher and the gown, a chemise and stockings and garters." As well as she could in such close quarters, she eyed his velvet-clad form. "And you're wearing that much or more. This could take all night!"

"Mmm." He nodded thoughtfully, and his next kiss was long: a nibbling of the lips, a persuasive caress, and finally a fiery possession that left her mouth burning for more. "I intend it to take all night."

When she tried to pull him onto the bed, he only resisted with a husky chuckle. Weak with need, it was an effort to cross her arms. "This isn't fair."

"You think not?" He stepped back, seeming to consider it. "Very well, then, I'll give you an advantage."

She frowned, wondering whether to be relieved when he stripped off his surcoat and dropped it to the floor.

"You're terribly untidy," she scolded quite ineffectively. She couldn't seem to control the tremble in her voice.

"But I have you now." He shrugged, working on the knot in his cravat. "And you always pick up after me."

"That's a reprehensible attitude, Jase. I shall have to reform you." She bent to pick up the coat and laid it neatly over the back of a chair. He was taking off his clothes—it looked like she had won—yet his demeanor wasn't one of defeat. It was all so very confusing.

When her fingers moved to the tabs on her stomacher, he shook his head and reached out to still them. Flashing a devilish grin, he handed her the cravat, then silently unlaced his shirt and stripped it off over his head.

"There." The grin widened more. "Surely now you can win. Unless…" He raised a brow. "Unless you find yourself distracted again by my bare chest."

The lacy cravat dangled from her fingers as she stared at him. Against that very tempting bare chest, her amulet nestled, winking in the candlelight. She swallowed hard, her hands itching to touch him, her tongue wanting to taste his salty skin, her body aching to meld itself with his and convince her once and for all that he would be hers, forever.

Her exasperating Englishman.

Dark as sin, his gaze captured hers as he pushed her into a chair and handed her the shirt, still warm from his body. From the folds of fabric, his distinctive scent rose to envelop her, quickening her pulse, spreading the familiar melting weakness through every fiber of her being.

Helpless to stop staring, she slowly wadded the shirt and cravat in her lap.

"How very untidy," he chided, seating himself across the narrow table. Their knees touched, and one of his slid between hers at the same time one long arm sneaked underneath and tossed up her skirts. Warm and tormenting, a finger trailed her thigh…

And he tossed the dice.

Thank you for reading
Emerald
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If you'd like to learn more about the
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Emerald
,
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