The next day Jennifer rose early, determination fuelling her feet.
While she’d thought to keep her own counsel until her parents arrived, she’d realised, lying awake in the early hours, that she would have to share at least some of her ideas with Peter if only to halt the process of finding the children somewhere to go. Caerlaverock certainly wasn’t equipped to house so many youngsters for any length of time, but Jennifer knew that once the children went to the poorhouse, they might very well be lost. And she was determined that that wouldn’t happen.
Organisation was the key.
Five hours later, Peter declared her the bossiest woman alive.
Jennifer knew her brother didn’t really expect her to remain in Scotland, despite their earlier discussion about her feelings for Brendon. Neither had broached the subject since – though in truth, there hadn’t really been the time – but when she sought him out to sow the seeds of her plan for the children, she could see in his eyes the gradual realisation of her intention, though neither voiced it. There was time enough for that when their parents arrived.
Next on her list was Brendon. He might be more at ease knowing she wouldn’t be leaving Caerlaverock at the end of the month as planned, but that didn’t mean he now believed they could be together.
It was time she put an end to his foolishness.
When she asked MacNee if he’d seen Brendon, the butler told her he understood Mr. Galbraith to be down at the old boathouse. Perfect.
Without telling anyone where she was going, Jennifer shrugged on her shawl and headed in search of her husband-to-be…
As she approached the wooden structure, she could hear someone – presumably Brendon – hammering. As she reached the door, there was a sudden pause and a muttered expletive. Thinking he might have hurt himself, Jennifer shoved the door open and promptly fell over the lengths of wood that were lying in front of it.
As she rolled over onto her back with a groan, she heard him swear again, and drop his tools. Seconds later he was crouching down next to her prone form. ‘What dae ye think ye be doin’?’ he quizzed her, unconsciously repeating the words from their first meeting. Only this time instead of adding the wordeejit, he used her name. ‘Jenny.’
She made no attempt to move. Indeed, she didn’t think she’d be able to – even if she tried. It wasn’t because she’d been injured, but rather the realisation that hewasn’t wearing a shirt. Speechless, she gazed up at his naked torso, her eyes travelling wonderingly from the hard planes of his stomach up to the solid muscle of his chest. The whole area was covered in a smattering of coal black curling hair that started at his belly button. She couldn’t breathe.
The slightly amused look on his face turned abruptly to concern. ‘Jennifer,’ he barked, ‘be ye injured?’ He leaned down over her, his hands placed flat on the wooden floor, arms bent as he searched her face.
Without thought, Jennifer reached up and slid her arms around his neck, and this time, instead of tugging him towards her, she pulled herself upwards until her breasts were flattened against his naked chest and shamelessly, pressed her lips against his. There was the briefest of pauses, then with a low groan, his mouth opened over hers and he leaned back onto his haunches,taking her with him, his arms wrapping tightly around her back.
This time Brendon didn’t hold back. His mouth plundered hers as though clinging to a life raft as their kiss finally turned into an all-consuming melding of mouths that demanded nothing less than his complete and utter surrender.
Brendon Galbraith was hers, now and always.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The wager was eventually won by the Reverend, and as he watched the Blackmore carriage clatter into the courtyard, less than four days later, he couldn’t help reflecting that mayhap he knew his daughter a little better than he’d previously thought.
As soon as Grace was helped down from the carriage, Jennifer blinked back a sudden onset of tears and ran over to embrace her mother. Indeed, by the time they stepped apart, both women were crying unashamedly.
As Peter stepped forward to greet his father, he too felt like bursting into tears. Instead, he gave a small bow and held out his hand. But Nicholas was having none of it. Without saying a word, he stepped forward and enveloped his son in an embrace that spoke volumes. ‘That was the longest journey of my life,’ he growled.
Grace turned towards Felicity who’d been hanging back, allowing their graces the time to reassure themselves that their offspring were not missing any limbs. The Duchess held out her hands, and with a smile, the matron stepped forward and clasped them in hers. ‘Thank God you were here, Felicity,’ Grace breathed.
‘Err, excuse me, dearest Mama,’ Jennifer objected, ‘I am not entirely bacon brained you know.’
Felicity laughed and gave the young woman an arch look. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of asking Mrs. Darroch to bring a pot of tea and some of the cook’s wonderful shortbread into the sitting room,’ she told Grace. ‘Though I think perhaps Nicholas might wish for something a little stronger by the time he’s heard the whole story…’
Grace nodded gratefully. ‘I remember Mrs. Allen’s shortbread,’ she enthused. The three women linked arms and headed inside.
‘I don’t need to have the whole story now,’ Nicholas was saying to Peter and Malcolm, ‘but can you just tell me whether there is anything I need to be truly concerned about?’
Malcolm shook his head. ‘I dinnae think so, yer grace. Yer son here did ye proud.’
‘There is of course the slight problem of twenty-two children residing in the main stable,’ Peter interrupted with a grin.
∞∞∞
It took them until late afternoon to relate the whole story, and at the end of it, her father was certainly paler than he had been when they started. However, all he’d said was, ‘Obviously, I don’t like the idea of being held to ransom, especially by someone I have no knowledge of. Is this Duncan MacFarlane likely to keep to his promise?’
Malcolm shrugged. ‘I dinnae think he’ll be any worse than Alistair MacFarlane.’ Nicholas nodded slowly and turned to his son.
