Love Me Forever (19 page)

“C
ome along now, you’re going to enjoy it,” Megan said, practically pulling Kimberly across the lawn with her. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I do recall that you thought it was a good idea.”

“That was before—well, before my husband was decided for me in a moment of madness.”

Megan blinked, but then she burst out laughing. “Madness? My, now that’s a nice name for it, indeed it is. I’ll have to remember that the next time Devlin makes me—mad. Oh, now, do stop blushing. It really is funny if you give yourself a moment to think about it.”

Kimberly disagreed. “Except it
was
madness, and I still can’t believe—”

Megan stopped abruptly to put her arms around Kimberly. “You have to stop castigating yourself over this. It wasn’t madness, it was passion, and we all succumb to it at one time or another—and frequently if we’re lucky. I remember something Devlin told me before we were mar
ried—now what were his exact words? Ah, yes, that desire isn’t selective of place, time, or the individual.”

“He spoke of that with you
before
you married?” Kimberly nearly whispered, because the subject wasn’t exactly what one would call normal.

“Well, you see, we had a very—how shall I put this?—torrid courtship.” Megan then chuckled. “Actually, it was more like war. And that day, he was complaining about my arousing him. He went on to say, ‘When it happens to you, and it will eventually, you won’t have any more control over it than I do. You either make love or suffer with it.’ And I have to say, I’ve found that to be quite true. I imagine, that’s what you’ve learned as well.”

“But it’s not something I should have learned before the vows are spoken. You didn’t, and—”

“M’dear, I’m going to trust you with this little secret, because I hope it will relieve some of the agony you’re putting yourself through, but I did in fact learn all about it before my elopement to Gretna Green.”

“You did?” Kimberly asked, wide-eyed. “You and the
duke
did?”

“You don’t have to sound that surprised. As it happens, my marriage began exactly as yours is going to, and I wasn’t all that happy about it either—then. But now—I can only hope that your marriage is as wonderful as mine is, or at least, that you think so. And that is really all that matters, what
you
think, not what others think—well, I suppose you must take into account what your Highlander thinks also. Keeps peace in the family, don’t you know.”

Kimberly actually grinned at the duchess. And she was feeling better—a little anyway. But she still didn’t want to go to the picnic that Megan had arranged in the conservatory. Especially since a great many of the houseguests would be there, and she had yet to face them en masse, having kept mostly to her room since it happened.

She said as much, “I still don’t think I’m ready for this. They must all know—”

“So what? They also know you’re going to marry him. Devlin saw to that announcement last night. You’ll be amazed how forgiving people can be, as long as whatever wrong you do is righted in the end. And you are righting your wrong by marrying the Scot. Now, if you had
refused
to marry him, then you would indeed have to bury your head under your pillow for the rest of your natural days.”

Kimberly smiled. “How do you manage to make everything sound so simple—and silly?”

Megan chuckled. “Because I
work
at it, m’dear. If I don’t keep a fair amount of silliness in Devlin’s life, then he’ll revert to being that stuffy, condescending man he was before I met him, and that, believe me, would be cause for war again between us. Now come along, or all the baskets will be empty by the time we arrive.”

“Is—is James going to be there?”

“No,” Megan said gently. “He returned to his home yesterday afternoon.”

Kimberly sighed. “I feel so awful about James. I believe he wanted to marry me himself.”

“But there’s no need to feel bad. It happens, and quite frequently during the Season. But he’s a grown man, he’ll recover, and likely continue
to look for a wife, now the notion’s occurred to him again. And besides, you have to follow your own heart, and accept your feelings for what they are.”

“But my heart isn’t—”

“Shhh, you don’t have to tell me,” Megan said. “I know very well how much easier it is to deny and ignore what you’re feeling. I was an expert at that myself. But I also know that any man who can bring you—to madness—has got a very strong pull on your heart. For what it’s worth, I think you’ve made the right choice.”

Right choice? Kimberly hadn’t made any choice at all, her body had, but she wasn’t going to argue that point with the duchess. Megan apparently had different views on love than she did. And Lachlan didn’t have any claims on her heart, nor would he—as long as he continued to love someone else.

They finally reached the conservatory. It was pleasantly warm, almost humid, with so many people inside. A few tables had been brought in for the older folks who didn’t want to sit on the ground, Lucinda and Margaret included, but most of the guests were on large blankets that had been spread out between the foliage.

Megan was warmly greeted as she passed by one group of guests after another—and Kimberly with her. No snubs, no disapproving looks or smirks. It was as if she weren’t at the heart of another scandal, as if there
were
no new scandal.

There was, of course. And Kimberly had expected to be utterly embarrassed. That she wasn’t was possibly because Megan was announcing her support, by walking in with her arms linked with Kimberly’s. The Duchess of Wrothston did in fact
carry a great deal of weight where people’s opinions were concerned. Or it was possibly what Megan had suggested, that folks could be forgiving as long as the wrong you’d done was going to be righted. But whatever it was, Kimberly was immensely surprised—and relieved.

“Ah, there he is,” Megan said, having located her husband. “And it doesn’t look like he’s dug too deep into that basket yet.”

Kimberly grinned. “Possibly because he has that adorable cherub in his lap, keeping him busy.”

“Yes, I suppose that would do it.”

Kimberly had been privileged to be taken up to meet the Wrothston heir not long after she’d arrived at Sherring Cross. It hadn’t taken her but moments to fall in love with the beautiful child, and she’d been back to visit him on many occasions.

She joined Megan on the large blanket now and held her arms out. “May I?”

“Good God, yes!” Devlin replied in relief and quickly handed his son over. “It’s bad enough I’m at a picnic in the heart of winter.” He paused to give his wife an exasperated look. “But I’m bloody well starving, yet couldn’t eat a thing without Mr. Twenty-hands there snatching at it.”

Megan chuckled. “Let me translate that for you, Kimberly. What he means is he’s spent all his time thus far feeding Justin, and enjoyed doing it so much that he forgot to feed himself as well.”

“Och now, mayhap there’ll be enough food for the rest of us then.”

Kimberly stiffened, but Lachlan still plopped down on the blanket beside her. No wonder she
hadn’t seen him when she entered the conservatory—and she’d looked. He’d been following behind her and Megan all along.

“Do join us, Lachlan,” Megan said, somewhat dryly, since he already had.

He grinned, unabashed as usual. “’Tis a fine afternoon for a picnic, lass,” he told Megan, but then his warm green eyes moved immediately to Kimberly and stayed on her. “D’you no’ agree, Kimber?”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” she replied reluctantly.

She could no longer relax with him there, though. He simply had that effect on her. Neither could the duke apparently, though for other reasons. He did nod to Lachlan, however, albeit quite curtly. Kimberly was surprised. Evidently they were going to be on civil terms again, if somewhat on the let’s-ignore-each-other side.

And the duke’s puffy lip, well, Kimberly certainly wasn’t going to ask about it. She had to wonder though.

“You look verra nice wi’ a bairn in your arms, darlin’,” Lachlan leaned toward her to whisper at the back of her ear. “But I’m thinking you’ll look even nicer when ’tis my bairn you’re holding.”

Kimberly blushed furiously at that insinuation, though with Megan and Devlin both presently digging into the picnic basket and setting items out on the blanket for them all to share, neither of them had likely heard him. Which wasn’t to say they wouldn’t if he continued such inappropriate talk with others near to hand.

So she hissed at him, “The least you could do is confine yourself to suitable subjects when we’re not alone. Or is that asking too much?”

“Aye, I fear it is,” he said with a sigh, as if he
might actually regret that he couldn’t—as if she might actually believe that. “There’s just something about being near you that leads me tae be thinking o’ procreation.”

She gasped. She looked away from him. She wasn’t going to address that remark at all. And behind her, she heard his soft chuckle.

“Careful wi’ those blushes, darlin’. You ken how becoming I think they are on you. I may have tae kiss you tae be proving it.”

Her head turned sharply so she could glare at him. “If you do I’ll—”

“Aye, kiss me back, I know,” he cut in with a nod. “And then you’ll be blushing even more, I dinna doubt, and I’ll be thinking about carting you off tae a place where I can be kissing you proper.”

It was the oddest feeling, to be so outraged, and yet become excited about the very prospect of being carted off by him for some proper kissing. Proper, she assumed, as in
im
proper…

Gah, she
was
mad, to let him keep doing this to her, infuriating her with his audacity, inflaming her with his sensual banter, and in public, where she’d cause a scene if she tried to deal with him as he deserved. But he wouldn’t persist if he didn’t get a reaction. She really was going to have to work on denying him that reaction.

To that end, she said now to Megan, “If there’s any fruit in that basket, I’ll take a piece, please.”

At her back, Lachlan whispered, “Coward.” And his soft laughter had a devilish sound to it.

Kimberly didn’t react. Well, at least she didn’t say anything more to him. But she still blushed.

D
uring the next few days, the mansion slowly emptied of all its guests. Some returned to their homes because the Christmas holidays were fast approaching. Others had to be nudged a bit, with Duchy having no qualms in announcing that the house party was officially over.

Kimberly and Lachlan weren’t included in the exodus. They would in fact be married in the Sherring Cross chapel, a small service with just family and Their Graces attending. The duke had already obtained a special license for them, so they wouldn’t have to wait the requisite three weeks for the posting of the banns. Actually, the only thing they were waiting on was Kimberly’s father’s arrival.

Devlin had already written to the Earl of Amburough, or so Kimberly had been informed. She didn’t ask if he’d gone into detail about her shameful behavior. Likely not, as such things weren’t suitable for letters. And besides, a simple “Your daughter will be married as soon as you
arrive,” would bring Cecil Richards posthaste. If the duke had been even more exact with something like, “Your daughter will be marrying the Lord of Clan MacGregor,” there’d be even quicker results.

Actually, Lachlan’s name probably had been mentioned, so it was pretty much guaranteed that her father wouldn’t be showing up just to give the bride away. Exactly the opposite. All hell would be breaking loose instead, and if she knew her father the Earl of Amburough would not care who might be present to witness the unleashing of his temper.

As it happened, when he did arrive, it was late in the evening, so everyone was still gathered together. Having just finished dinner, they had all adjourned to the parlor for some quiet amusements, now that all the guests were gone and continuous entertainments were no longer necessary.

Lachlan and Margaret were in one corner of the room finishing a chess game. Megan was directing several servants placing unlit candles high on the Christmas tree that had been brought in that morning.

Kimberly was helping Duchy remove some carved wooden angels from their little velvet storage pouches, still more decorations for the tree. Devlin was merely watching the proceedings from his favorite spot by the mantel and volunteering a suggestion now and then about the candle placements while he sipped at his after-dinner brandy.

And then there was that ill-tempered voice that Kimberly knew so well, demanding from the doorway, “What in the bloody hell is a Scotsman
doing at Sherring Cross, and fighting over m’daughter?”

“Good to see you again, too, Cecil,” Devlin remarked dryly. “I assume you got my letter?”

“What letter? I came here because Kimberly’s name has been linked with a Scotsman. I don’t mind telling you how appalled I was. Who is this damned Scotsman, and what’s he even doing here?”

“The ‘damned’ Scotsman is related to me,” Devlin replied, his own tone indicating he didn’t care for Cecil’s one little bit.

“Good God, related?” Cecil exclaimed, as if he couldn’t imagine anything more horrible. “How is it I never heard of this?”

“Possibly because my relations are no one’s bloody business but my own,” Devlin answered tightly. “And I would suggest we continue this discussion in my study, before my wife, who has a Scot or two in her own ancestry, has you evicted for your insulting rudeness.”

At that point the earl did some blushing, never having had it pointed out so blatantly that he was making an ass of himself. Kimberly wasn’t the least bit embarrassed for him, she was too used to his acerbity. She did regret that these nice people had to be subjected to his ill-humored ways.

Cecil looked for and assumed he’d found the duchess—he had—who was in fact frowning at him, “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I sometimes forget myself when I’m upset, and this has upset me mightily.”

“That’s understandable,” Megan allowed graciously. “Although it was a minor scandal that we have all forgot about—due to other things.”

“Come along then, Cecil,” Devlin said, quickly
crossing the room to lead him to his study before he could ask
what other things
.

Cecil nodded, but he caught sight of Kimberly before he turned, and with a scowl, he ordered her, “You will join us, gel, since you have some explaining to do.”

He didn’t wait for her compliance, didn’t expect her to disobey. She thought about it though, she really did. His tirades could be emotionally exhausting, even when she did no more than just sit and listen. And this tirade was likely to be the worst she’d ever heard. But there really was no avoiding it. He was here. He didn’t know yet that she was going to marry the Highlander, but he would very shortly, and—she might as well get it over with.

She stood up, but paused to glance over at Lachlan, whose expression was curiously inscrutable. “You might want to come along,” she suggested. “I warned you that he wouldn’t be happy about—” She hesitated, realizing this was not a subject to mention before others. So she hoped he would recall
what
she’d told him he wouldn’t be happy about, and finished with, “You’re about to find out why.”

Kimberly didn’t wait to see if he would follow. It wasn’t necessary for him to be present during this “baring of the sinful circumstances,” so it made no difference to her. It would merely save her having to relate the entire tale to him later. The earl was very predictable, after all.

Devlin was sitting behind his desk when she reached the study. There were a number of chairs about the room. She took one against the wall, out of the way, though she couldn’t hope to remain unnoticed for very long. Her father was ap
parently going to remain standing. She knew he would prefer to, so used to that authoritative seat behind the desk himself, and this not being his study.

“You haven’t seen your daughter for more than a month,” Devlin was saying. “Would you like a few minutes alone with her to—”

“What for?”

Eloquently put, and very indicative of Cecil’s feelings for his only daughter. Kimberly almost smiled at Devlin’s surprise. She supposed some people might find the earl’s sentiments unnatural. She found them perfectly normal—for him. At least they were what she was used to. If he’d ever been anything other than curt or surly with her, she didn’t remember it. So anything on a warmer side, she would find unnatural—for him.

“Very well then,” Devlin said. “Since you left before my letter reached you, I will tell you the gist of it now and we can discuss—”

“You needn’t bother, Your Grace. I told you, I’d already heard the entire story. That’s why I’m here, to find out how such a sorry affair could have come about.”

“I presume you’re speaking of that morning the Highlander attacked Viscount Canston because of your daughter?” the duke questioned.

“Yes.”

“And that’s the only tale you heard?”

“Yes.” Cecil frowned now. “Why?”

“Because we’re talking about two different things here. I made no mention of that incident in my letter to you. It was a minor occurrence that didn’t hold anyone’s interest for more than a day or two.”

“Then what were you writing me about?”

“I wrote to let you know that Kimberly has accepted a proposal of marriage—”

“To Viscount Canston?” Cecil interrupted, and his whole demeanor improved with that thought. “Excellent! I knew his father quite well when he—”

“The viscount turned out to be a thief and a liar,” Devlin cut back in coldly. “And we shall not mention that blackguard again, thank you.”

“Now see here, St. James, that’s a rather harsh accusation to be making about a member of the Canston family,” Cecil said in his disappointment.

“But no less true, and proven, I might add.”

“Then who is it wants the gel?”

Cecil’s tone implied he hadn’t thought anyone
would
want Kimberly, which was probably why Devlin gallantly mentioned, “She was very popular among our guests, and other offers would have been forthcoming, I’ve no doubt. But she has agreed to marry the MacGregor of Clan MacGregor, and in my letter, I informed you that I am in complete support of her decision.”

“The hell you say!” Cecil shouted, too shocked to say more at the moment.

Devlin raised a black brow sardonically. “Was I not clear enough?”

“Clear enough?
Clear enough
!” Cecil was so livid with fury now, he could barely think. “The hell she will! Is this a joke?”

“Would I risk a reaction such as yours for a joke, Cecil? I don’t think so.”

Cecil came to his senses a bit, enough to say, “She knows better than to associate with Scotsmen, let alone even think of marrying one. This
must be a joke, and I bloody well don’t appreciate it.”

Devlin sighed at that point and glanced at Kimberly. “I’m sorry, I had hoped to avoid the whys and wherefores, but your father isn’t cooperating.”

“That’s quite all right, Your Grace,” she said, even managing a weak smile. “Thank you for trying to spare us, but the sordid details will have to come to light for him to understand there is no choice involved here.”

“Sordid details?” Cecil was glaring at her now. “What have you done, gel?”

“Nothing unusual, just highly scandalous,” Kimberly told her father. “Lachlan MacGregor was discovered in my bed, you see. Unfortunately, I happened to be in it with him at the time.”

Cecil got so red in the face, he was in danger of bursting a blood vessel. “Slut!” he roared.

He took the several steps that brought him in front of her. She cringed and closed her eyes, because his hand was already raised. He was about to smack her senseless, was angry enough for some serious damage.

But a new voice was heard from in a soft, though ominous tone. “Lay even one finger on her, and I promise you will regret it.”

Kimberly glanced toward the doorway. So Lachlan had followed her after all—fortunately for her. Devlin had stood up, would have come to her aid, but she would have had a few bruises before he reached her.

Her father had turned toward the door as well. That Lachlan filled the area with his immense size might have been one reason the much shorter earl
was momentarily disconcerted. But it was more likely because Lachlan’s menacing tone was nothing compared to how truly enraged he looked.

Cecil had been startled, but he was too angry to remain silent for more than a few moments. However, his new tone wasn’t nearly as belligerent, proving he’d definitely been intimidated and still was. Kimberly was utterly amazed.

“So you’re the MacGregor?” Cecil sneered.

“I am that, but more tae the point, I’m the mon who will be marrying the lass here. That makes her mine tae protect, no matter what she is tae you.”

“She is my daughter—”

“More’s the pity, I’m thinking.”

“—and she won’t be marrying any Scot bastard, clan lord or not.”

“Shall we refrain from insults, if you please,” Devlin tried to interject, but neither man was paying him any mind at this point.

“Were you no’ listening, mon?” Lachlan said to Cecil. “’Tis no secret that I bedded her. All and sundry know of it by now. So there’s no choice. She must marry me, or suffer the consequences—”

“Exactly,” Cecil shot back. “She courted the consequences, she can bloody well live with them. And she can count herself lucky if I can find a penniless lord who will overlook her tattered reputation and take her off my hands for the dower that comes with her.”

“You’d do that tae her, when my marrying her would end the scandal?” Lachlan asked incredulously.

Cecil snorted. “The gel did it to herself. She knew she’d never have my permission to marry
a damned Scot. If she can never hold her head up again because of it, that’s no one’s fault but her own.”

“What say you, Kimber?”

“I—” she began.

But her father cut her off. “She has no say. And she won’t cross me on this,” he added confidently. “She knows I’d disown her if she does, and that would be a scandal she couldn’t live down.”

“For yourself as well, I’m thinking,” Lachlan said in disgust. “Are you that much of a fool, mon?”

Cecil went red in the face again. “The only fool here is you, Highlander. And you’ve no further business here, so I’ll thank you to leave.”

“Don’t be kicking people out of my study, Richards,” Devlin said coldly. “I reserve that right.”

But Lachlan had already turned about with a muttered low curse and stalked off. And staring at that empty doorway, Kimberly felt the most devastating disappointment.

It wasn’t quite what she’d expected. Actually, it wasn’t what she’d expected at all. She’d warned Lachlan that he wouldn’t be happy marrying her, true, but she
had
taken it for granted that he would do the right thing after all was said and done, and marry her anyway.

He’d put up a good showing, of course. And he obviously found her father and his harsh sentiments despicable. But it came down to the simple fact that Lachlan couldn’t afford a penniless wife, when his own dire circumstances demanded a rich one. Disowned meant no dower, and in his mind, he needed that dower.