More on this book
Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
Lynsay Sands
Read between
January 3 - January 4, 2021
Aulay noted the horror in his youngest brother’s voice and felt his mouth twist with bitter humor.
“That’s what I said, Alick—fishing. I told ye I was coming here to relax.” “Aye, but I thought ye meant . . . relax, like . . . relaxing.”
“Ye mean drinking and wenching and such,” Aulay suggested dryly. “Aye,”...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“I’m no’ interested in an aching head from drinking, or the irritation o’ giggly bar wenches who shriek like babies when they see me face,” he growled as he let the hair fall back into place. “I came to relax. Fishing relaxes me. ’Tis why I had the hunting lodge rebuilt close to the ocean after the fire, instead of where the original
stood.”
For there will be no wenching or drinking here.” Alick didn’t bother to hide his disappointment, but shook his head. “Fine, fishing it is then.” Starting forward, he added, “But I’m no’ staying the full two weeks with ye if all we’re doing is fishing. A couple o’ days, mayhap.” “As ye like,” Aulay said with feigned disinterest as he headed out of the lodge. But, in truth, he was glad the lad didn’t plan to stay long. He’d wanted to come on his own anyway.
Tomorrow was the anniversary of the battle that had taken his twin brother’s life, and gifted him with
the scar that had ruined his own.
He preferred to be alone to deal with his dark humors. His family tended to interfere and try to make him feel better. But, all they really managed to do was add to his misery by making him feel guilty for causing them worry.
“How far out are we going?” Alick asked after a few minutes. “Not far,” Aulay responded patiently.
“I think I see bosoms,” Alick explained. “Of course ye do. Only you could make out bosoms from a hundred feet away,” Aulay said acerbically,
Closing her eyes against it, she managed to get out, “You are the angel.” Aulay was sure she was delirious and nearly said, “Nay, I’m a highlander, no’ an angel, when she added, “I thought sure I would die, but God sent you to save me.” He was just marveling over the words when Alick muttered, “Hmm, she must be delirious. Most ladies think ye a devil come straight out o’ hell since—” “Alick,” Aulay growled as he slid his dirk under one of the strands of rope to begin sawing at it. “Aye?” “Shut it,” he snapped as the first rope gave way to his blade and he moved on to work it under another.
“Not my betrothed . . . make me marry him . . . will kill me like first wife.”
Although, she realized suddenly, she had got some answers the last time she’d woken. She suspected she must be in Scotland. At least, her husband appeared to be Scottish. He wore Scottish dress, the traditional plaid that had shown off his legs quite nicely. He’d also definitely had a Scottish accent, as had the maid who had entered the room the last time she’d woken up. So . . . she must have married a Scot and now lived in Scotland. She didn’t think she was Scottish herself. Her own accent when she’d spoken had sounded English to her ear, and even her thoughts had an English accent to them,
...more
Tis none o’ yer business, Rory,” Aulay said coldly. Rory hesitated, and then straightened his shoulders and said, “Aye, ’tis. She’s me patient, and judging by her speech and the quality o’ the gown she wore, or what was left o’ it,” he added dryly, “she is a lady. If ye ruin her, ye will have to marry her, Aulay. I’ll no’ let ye take advantage of the poor lass in her state and treat her like she was naught but some light skirt. She thinks ye’re her husband.” Aulay just stared at Rory, the words reverberating through his head. “If ye ruin her, ye will have to marry her.” For some reason, they
...more
“I think I must be the luckiest wife in the world having you to husband.” Releasing him then, she leaned back and added, “And I bet I fell in love with you the moment I saw your handsome face.”
Jetta felt him stiffen, and tipped her head to eye him with curiosity. “What?” “Are ye mocking me, lass?” he growled, spearing her with his eyes. “Mocking you?” she asked with confusion. “I ken I am no’ a handsome man,” Aulay said grimly. “I was at one time, but no’ anymore, no’ since the battle where Ewan was killed and where I gained the scar on me face.”
“I do not know what you see when you look at your reflection, husband,” she said solemnly. “But I see a handsome man. In fact, I like the scar. It keeps you from looking too pretty and makes it appear that you have a bit of a devil in you.”
Clearing her throat, she said, “I find you very handsome, husband. I also like your kisses and touch . . .” Swallowing, she continued bravely, “And the idea of you having your way with me sends shivers all through me and leaves me wanting.”
What the devil was going on? Is she having nightmares?” Aulay raised his eyebrows at that and then shook his head with disgust. “The very fact that ye’d ask that tells me ye really need to set yer medicinal studies aside once in a while and visit the local light skirt, brother.” Rory stiffened at the words and then narrowed his eyes. “Aulay, ye did no’—?” “Nay,” he interrupted firmly, and shifted to ease his discomfort as he added, “I just . . . distracted her.”
“God’s teeth, Rory! Saidh’ll be headed here by dawn,” Aulay said with exasperation. “Maybe no’,” Rory said. “Mayhap ye’ll be lucky and when Alick gets to MacDonnell it will only be to learn that Saidh is off visiting Edith or Murine, or Jo.” “When have I ever been that lucky?” Aulay asked with disgust.
Biting her lip, she considered him briefly and then smiled and turned to pull the largest fur off the bed and into her lap. Grasping it firmly in hand, she then stood and let it drop to the floor between her and her husband before gently and carefully laying it over him. Straightening then, she backed up and sat on the edge of the bed to wait. It seemed to take forever, and Jetta was beginning to fear that it wouldn’t work, and then he murmured sleepily and shifted onto his back, pushing the furs and plaid restlessly away from his overheated body.
And she had absolutely no recollection of seeing that before. Good Lord! What was she supposed to do with it?
She had thoroughly messed that up, Jetta acknowledged to herself. He would never want to touch her again now. She would spend the rest of her life in a marriage where her husband was kind and gentle with her, but would not share his passion, and she didn’t know why.
The worst part was that she had almost the perfect marriage. She might not have a lot of memories, but she knew in her heart that few women were lucky enough to have a husband as wonderful and considerate as Aulay. She knew without a doubt that he was much more attentive and sweet than most men, and if she had just been able to sort out this business of why he wasn’t bedding her, her marriage would have been as close to perfect as she thought was possible. But she’d failed, Jetta acknowledged, snuffling as the tears began to pour out of her eyes in earnest.
Aulay scowled at him with irritation. “Brother, I understand ye’re only looking out fer the lass, but I am the eldest brother. I am laird at Buchanan and you can no’ make me do anything I do no’ wish to do.” Mouth tight, he added, “And I’ll no’ let ye force her into doing anything she does no’ wish to do either.”
Rory eyed him curiously. “Ye want her to remember she is no yer wife?” Aulay hesitated, his mind torn on the subject. Part of him wanted her to remember everything. The part that found hope in her response to his kisses and in her admission that she was attracted to him. That part wanted her to know they weren’t really married so that he could ask her to marry him for real. Because that part was daring to hope that she might agree, and that he could have the wife and children that he’d always taken for granted that he would have before he’d taken the injury to his face.
In truth, he’d rather have this strange half relationship than risk losing her altogether.
But what he said in the end was, “The sooner she remembers who she is, the better able we will be to keep her safe from whatever threat she was afraid of before she lost her memory.”
“Well, seat yerself then, lass,” Rory said lightly. “Mavis packed this basket full. She sent some lovely pastries, some fruit, some cheese, some boiled eggs and even some meat.” “Goodness, she must have thought she was feeding an army,” Jetta said, settling on the plaid and watching wide-eyed as Rory began pulling out the offerings. Turning to grin at Aulay then, she added mischievously, “That or two Buchanan brothers.”
“Poor, wee Katie. Such a pretty lass with all that long black hair, and such a sweet girl too. Hard to believe anyone would want her dead.” “I’m sure ’twas an accident,” Aulay said, surprised that she’d think otherwise. “A stray arrow from a hunter.” Mavis turned to peer at him with amazement. “A stray arrow from a hunter? She was shot just as they reached the drawbridge. What hunting would anyone be doing there?”
As he recalled, she was a sweet young girl. In fact, the only motive he could think of for anyone wishing her harm was jealousy, either of her beauty, or of the attention Geordie showed her. His brother had proven himself quite taken with the lass these last couple months. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if Geordie told him he wished to marry the girl.
Petite with long black hair.
He wasn’t sure what he would do if and when that time finally came. Geordie was a nobleman, son of a baron, and Katie was the bastard daughter of a kitchen maid. That kind of union simply wasn’t considered acceptable as a rule. At least not by most.
The woman was like some kind of madness in his blood. He walked around wanting her all the time.
He really needed to find out who she was and set things to rights there. If he didn’t soon do that, he feared that—despite his promises to Rory—he would end up bedding the lass and trapping her into having to marry him. And don’t think that idea didn’t hold a hell of a lot of appeal to him.
He suspected she was just making the best of the situation she found herself in, and that if she learned they weren’t married and she could leave . . . she would. It was what Adaira had done. Betrothed since birth, they’d grown up as neighbors, always knowing they would someday marry. They’d both been perfectly happy with it. They’d even loved each other, or so she’d said and he’d believed. But when he’d returned home scarred from battle, she’d taken one look at his ruined face and screamed in horror . . . and then she claimed him more monster than man and refused to marry him.
He’d pulled her from the water more than four weeks ago, but she hadn’t been awake for more than twelve days, and yet he felt as if she’d been a part of his life for much longer. In fact, it was hard to recall his life before her arrival in it. Aulay didn’t know how that had happened, but he needed to do something about it. He needed to toughen his heart against her . . . else he wouldn’t survive when she finally left him.
“Aye, poor wee lass,” Mavis said with a shake of the head as they started up the hall. “Ye remind me a bit o’ her, actually. She’s tiny and has long black hair too. O’ course, she has it all o’er whereas Rory had to shave the back o’ yer head. Still, otherwise, the two o’ ye are quite alike.”
“She refused to marry him because of the scar?” Jetta asked with outrage. “Aye, and no’ kindly. Said he was a monster, she did, and that she’d rather die than have to look at his face all the rest o’ her days. And him still in his sickbed, barely alive when she did it too,” she added grimly. “Bitch,” Jetta breathed, horrified that anyone could be so cruel to such a kind man.
Adaira was sweet as honey on the tongue to all the men and any noble lady about, but get her alone in a room with a servant and she showed her true colors quick enough.” “She was unkind to the servants?” Jetta asked with a scowl. Her mother had taught her that one should always be kind to servants. She’d taught her to be kind to everyone, but especially peasants and servants. She’d said that their lives were hard, their days long and full of backbreaking labor, and they should be shown every kindness by those they worked so hard for.
“Ye got a memory back?” Mavis asked, obviously happy for her at the thought. “Aye, a small one,” she admitted, smiling faintly, and then squeezing the maid’s hand, she suggested, “Mayhap if ye keep talking I’ll remember more.” “Oh, well then, I’ll talk til I’m blue in the face, m’lady.
Certainly, it wasn’t her bedchamber at Fitton. That room was much larger, the bed having a canopy and curtains you could use to close out light and sound.
Jetta’s eyebrows widened slightly as she watched the maid. Mavis wasn’t looking her usual self. Her clothes were a bit awry, her face flushed, and the way she was looking at and addressing Aulay’s uncle was . . . well, frankly it was far more like he was a beau than a lord. The way Acair was looking at Mavis told a story of its own too. The two of them were obviously lovers, Jetta decided as Acair broke away from the men and moved to intercept Mavis. Taking her arm, he gently ushered her back toward the cottage, murmuring in her ear as he did and bringing a look of dismay to her face.
Frowning, Jetta started to withdraw from the window, intending to go below and find out what was going on, but then a splash of color in the trees caught her eye. Pausing, she searched the woods beyond the stables and could have sworn she saw someone moving away through the woods. Someone in colorful clothing and moving swiftly. That was all she saw though before whoever it was moved completely out of sight. One of the men, Jetta told herself.
But hearing about it, well, she recalled how upset she’d been when her own dog, Jezebel, had died and—
Groaning at the thought, Aulay climbed from the bed and crossed the room in his bed shirt, thinking Jetta would probably tease him did she see him in it. He followed the thought with a shake of the head meant to remove thoughts of his wee counterfeit wife. Aulay had been doing his best not to think of Jetta since leaving the lodge. But that was something he was finding ridiculously hard to do. From the moment he’d ridden away from the lodge, everything had seemed to remind him of her.
When he’d had Rory take him to see Katie on his arrival here, the dark-haired maid lying pale and still in the bed had reminded Aulay of Jetta when she’d still been unconscious. The maid was petite like her, and had the same dark hair as well.
Truly, he did not seem able to have a single thought enter his head without it somehow leading to thoughts of Jetta. That realization had led Aulay to acknowledging that he was never going to break this attraction he had for her. Knowing that, he’d also quite plainly seen his future. Jetta would somehow find out they were not married and leave him, and he would be a broken man.
It was that simple. Aulay had thought he was broken after the injury he took and Adaira’s leaving him, but suspected that would be nothing next to his losing Jetta. This loss, he feared, was one he would not recover from.
His sister was thick as thieves with her friends, which was a good thing since two of them were now married to two of his brothers. But he suspected Jetta would like them. She’d probably like their friend Jo, too, and fit in easily with the group of women. And they, of course, would love her, he decided. She was clever and sweet with a wonderful sense of humor. How could they help but love her?
