To Tame A Highland Warrior
Page 81
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Jillian rested her palm on her stomach. It was possible she was pregnant, but she wasn’t absolutely certain. Her monthly flow had often been irregular and she had been later than this in the past. Mama had told her that many things besides pregnancy could affect a woman’s courses: emotional turmoil … or a woman’s own devout wish that she was pregnant.
Was that it? Did she so long to be pregnant with Grimm Roderick’s child that she’d fooled herself? Or was there truly a baby growing inside her? How she wished she knew for certain. She drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly. Only time would tell.
She’d considered striking out on her own, tracking him down, and fighting for their love, but a defiant shred of pride coupled with good common sense made her refuse. Grimm was in the thick of a battle with himself, and it was a battle he had to win or lose. She’d offered her love, told him she would accept any kind of life as long as they lived it together. A woman shouldn’t have to fight the man she loved for his love. He had to choose to give it freely, to learn that love was the one thing in this world that wasn’t frightening.
He was an intelligent man and a brave one. He would come.
Jillian sighed. God forgive her, but she still believed.
He would come.
CHAPTER 23
HE DIDN’T COME.
The day of her wedding dawned cloudy and cold. Sleet started falling at dawn, coating the charred lawn with a layer of crunchy black ice.
Jillian stayed in bed, listening to the sounds of the castle preparing for the wedding feast. Her stomach rumbled a welcome to the scents of roasting ham and pheasant. It was a feast to wake the dead, and it worked; she stumbled from the bed and groped her way through the dimly lit room to the mirror. She stared at her reflection. Dark shadows marred the delicate skin where her cheekbones met her tilted amber eyes.
She would marry Quinn de Moncreiffe in less than six hours.
The rumble of voices carried clearly into her chambers; half the county was in residence, and had been since yesterday. Four hundred guests had been invited and five hundred had arrived, crowding the massive castle and spilling over into less accommodating lodgings in the nearby village.
Five hundred people, more than she would ever have at her funeral, tramping around the frozen black lawn.
Jillian squeezed her eyes tightly shut and refused to cry, certain she’d weep blood if she allowed even one more tear to fall.
At eleven o’clock Elizabeth St. Clair dabbed prettily at her tears with a dainty hanky. “You look lovely, Jillian,” she said with a heartfelt sigh. “Even more so than I did.”
“You don’t think the bags under my eyes detract, Mama?” Jillian asked acerbically. “How about the grim set of my mouth? My shoulders droop and my nose is beet red from crying. You don’t think anyone will find my appearance a bit suspect?”
Elizabeth sniffed, plunked a headpiece on Jillian’s hair, and tugged a thin fall of sheer blue gossamer over her daughter’s face. “Your da thinks of everything,” she said with a shrug.
“A veil? Really, Mama. No one wears a veil in these modern times.”
“Just think of it, you’ll start a new fashion. By the end of the year, everyone will be wearing them again,” Elizabeth chirped.
“How can he do this to me, Mama? Knowing the kind of love you and he share, how can he justify condemning me to a loveless marriage?”
“Quinn does love you, so it won’t be loveless.”
“It will be on my part.”
Elizabeth perched on the edge of the bed. She studied the floor a moment, then raised her eyes to Jillian’s.
“You do care,” Jillian said, somewhat mollified by the sympathy in Elizabeth’s gaze.
“Of course I care, Jillian. I’m your mother.” Elizabeth regarded her a pensive moment. “Darling, don’t fret, your da has a plan. I hadn’t intended to tell you this, but he doesn’t plan to make you go through with it. He thinks Grimm will come.”
Jillian snorted. “So did I, Mama. But it’s ten minutes to the hour and there’s no sign of the man. What’s Da going to do? Halt the wedding in the middle if he doesn’t show up? In front of five hundred guests?”
“You know your da has never been afraid of making a spectacle of himself—or of anyone else, for that matter. The man abducted me from my wedding. I do believe he’s hoping the same will happen to you.”
Jillian smiled faintly. The story of her mama’s “courtship” by her da had enthralled her since she’d been a child. Her da was a man who could give Grimm lessons. Grimm Roderick shouldn’t be battling himself about her, he should be battling the world for her. Jillian drew a deep breath, hoping against hope, imagining such a scene for herself.
Was that it? Did she so long to be pregnant with Grimm Roderick’s child that she’d fooled herself? Or was there truly a baby growing inside her? How she wished she knew for certain. She drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly. Only time would tell.
She’d considered striking out on her own, tracking him down, and fighting for their love, but a defiant shred of pride coupled with good common sense made her refuse. Grimm was in the thick of a battle with himself, and it was a battle he had to win or lose. She’d offered her love, told him she would accept any kind of life as long as they lived it together. A woman shouldn’t have to fight the man she loved for his love. He had to choose to give it freely, to learn that love was the one thing in this world that wasn’t frightening.
He was an intelligent man and a brave one. He would come.
Jillian sighed. God forgive her, but she still believed.
He would come.
CHAPTER 23
HE DIDN’T COME.
The day of her wedding dawned cloudy and cold. Sleet started falling at dawn, coating the charred lawn with a layer of crunchy black ice.
Jillian stayed in bed, listening to the sounds of the castle preparing for the wedding feast. Her stomach rumbled a welcome to the scents of roasting ham and pheasant. It was a feast to wake the dead, and it worked; she stumbled from the bed and groped her way through the dimly lit room to the mirror. She stared at her reflection. Dark shadows marred the delicate skin where her cheekbones met her tilted amber eyes.
She would marry Quinn de Moncreiffe in less than six hours.
The rumble of voices carried clearly into her chambers; half the county was in residence, and had been since yesterday. Four hundred guests had been invited and five hundred had arrived, crowding the massive castle and spilling over into less accommodating lodgings in the nearby village.
Five hundred people, more than she would ever have at her funeral, tramping around the frozen black lawn.
Jillian squeezed her eyes tightly shut and refused to cry, certain she’d weep blood if she allowed even one more tear to fall.
At eleven o’clock Elizabeth St. Clair dabbed prettily at her tears with a dainty hanky. “You look lovely, Jillian,” she said with a heartfelt sigh. “Even more so than I did.”
“You don’t think the bags under my eyes detract, Mama?” Jillian asked acerbically. “How about the grim set of my mouth? My shoulders droop and my nose is beet red from crying. You don’t think anyone will find my appearance a bit suspect?”
Elizabeth sniffed, plunked a headpiece on Jillian’s hair, and tugged a thin fall of sheer blue gossamer over her daughter’s face. “Your da thinks of everything,” she said with a shrug.
“A veil? Really, Mama. No one wears a veil in these modern times.”
“Just think of it, you’ll start a new fashion. By the end of the year, everyone will be wearing them again,” Elizabeth chirped.
“How can he do this to me, Mama? Knowing the kind of love you and he share, how can he justify condemning me to a loveless marriage?”
“Quinn does love you, so it won’t be loveless.”
“It will be on my part.”
Elizabeth perched on the edge of the bed. She studied the floor a moment, then raised her eyes to Jillian’s.
“You do care,” Jillian said, somewhat mollified by the sympathy in Elizabeth’s gaze.
“Of course I care, Jillian. I’m your mother.” Elizabeth regarded her a pensive moment. “Darling, don’t fret, your da has a plan. I hadn’t intended to tell you this, but he doesn’t plan to make you go through with it. He thinks Grimm will come.”
Jillian snorted. “So did I, Mama. But it’s ten minutes to the hour and there’s no sign of the man. What’s Da going to do? Halt the wedding in the middle if he doesn’t show up? In front of five hundred guests?”
“You know your da has never been afraid of making a spectacle of himself—or of anyone else, for that matter. The man abducted me from my wedding. I do believe he’s hoping the same will happen to you.”
Jillian smiled faintly. The story of her mama’s “courtship” by her da had enthralled her since she’d been a child. Her da was a man who could give Grimm lessons. Grimm Roderick shouldn’t be battling himself about her, he should be battling the world for her. Jillian drew a deep breath, hoping against hope, imagining such a scene for herself.
