The Marquess's Scottish Bride: A Sweet & Clean Historical Romance (The Chase Brides Book 2) (55 page)

“Aye, you will.” Cait stood and linked her arm though his. “Shall we go?”

Bagpipe music swelled when they reached the double front doors and stepped out into the sunshine. It was a glorious day to be wed, the quadrangle redolent with the scent of newly-cut grass, the sky blue as Cait’s gown and dotted with wee, puffy white clouds. Cameron’s gaze swept the enormous castle’s crenelated walls and the ancient keep. Beyond the timeworn tower, the grass grew high and untamed.

“Gudeman’s croft,” Caithren murmured.

“What is that?” Mary asked.

Cameron knelt down to her. “A place allowed to grow free as a shelter for brownies and fairies.”

“Oh.” Mary’s eyes opened wide. “Do you know stories of brownies and fairies?”

“Many. But they’ll have to wait for later.” Cam ruffled her unruly curls before he stood and faced Cait. “It’s really the old tilting yard. Colin told me they don’t groom it since it’s long been in disuse.”

“I knew that.” Her lips curved in a soft smile as she scanned her new home. “Can you believe this place, Cam?”

He met her hazel eyes. “You always were meant to live in a castle, sweet Cait.”

“Aye,” she said, no doubt thinking of her family’s tiny castle back in Scotland—Cameron’s castle now. “But who’d have ever guessed it would be such an enormous, historic one…and in England?”

“You’ll do fine.” Though they’d always been inseparable and he would miss her terribly, Cam knew she belonged here at Cainewood with the marquess she’d come to love. He leaned to kiss her forehead, then looked up. “There’s your man now.”

When her gaze flew to her intended, her face lit at the sight of him. Suddenly Cameron ached for the security this tall, dark-haired fellow so clearly enjoyed—someone to love and a place that truly felt like his own.

A family.

Cam frowned. He’d never thought much about having a family before, though he’d always loved children and knew he wanted his own someday. What had brought on this unexpected longing?

Perhaps it was losing Cait. With his only close kin far away in England, Cam’s new castle would be empty. A family would fill it back up. With a companion to talk to and lively bairns underfoot—bairns who would grow up and help him make the Leslie estate into everything he and Cait had always dreamed it could be.

Clarice walked over to take Mary by the hand. “It’s time,” she said gently, and reluctantly the wee lass released her grip on Cam. The girl looked over her shoulder, her blue eyes lingering on him as the woman led her away.

“Her mother?” Cait guessed.

“Aye. Her name is Clarice Bradford. You’ll like her.” Cameron’s gaze followed the two as they walked toward the gatehouse on their way to Cainewood’s private chapel. Clarice’s golden hair gleamed beneath a pink-ribboned straw hat. Her pink dress was simple compared to those of Caithren and the other women, but it suited her perfectly.

Cameron was simple as well.

He turned to take Cait by both hands. “Are you ready?” he asked.

“More ready than I ever thought possible.” Smiling at him, she squeezed his fingers. “You know, Mam always said it’s better to marry over the midden than over the muir.”

“I’ve heard that said, that it’s wise to stick within your own circle.” Unbidden, his gaze flicked over to Clarice. “But I’m not sure I believe it.”

“I don’t believe it, either.” Caithren’s own gaze trailed to her groom, waiting for her by the barbican. “I reckon even mothers are wrong sometimes.”

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