Jeane shook her head, but Fergus spoke up.
“Aye. It was for me,” he said, leaning closer to Jeane and putting his arm around her.
She melted against him, smiling when he kissed her forehead.
“He frightened me at first,” Jeane admitted. “But then I met sweet Lottie and realized that he wasnae a cruel man. He was just a hard man because of his circumstances.”
“The scars?” Beatrice piped up, and Agnes swatted her.
“Daenae be rude.”
“It isnae rude,” Fergus said with a chuckle. “It’s the truth. Aye, the scars humbled me. Made me a different man. I lost a friend, too, and that didnae help matters.”
“Nae to mention that awful betrothed of yers,” Jeane said, making a face.
He laughed. “It’s good that she ran. I think ye would have taken her head off.”
“Aye, I would have,” Jeane said firmly, and Fergus brought her closer, kissing her mouth softly.
She pulled away from him, flushing.
“From the beginnin’, I could tell they were in love,” Lottie said, breaking her silence of the evening.
“Could ye?” Jeane asked, smiling. “Really?”
“Really,” Lottie assured her. “I think that the two of ye were the last to ken how ye felt about each other.”
Fergus nodded. “Aye, Aiden said he saw it too.”
“I did,” Aiden said. “Me Laird hadnae been passionate about anythin’ since the incident, nae until Jeane came along.”
“And he was passionate about her?” Annabel asked, swooning. “Maybe Idowant a husband.”
Jeane laughed at her friend, patting her hand.
They talked and laughed and drank long into the night, and by the time it was time for bed, Jeane’s head spun.
Fergus scooped her up, bridal-style, when she stumbled in the hall.
She squeaked, and he chuckled, kissing her cheek.
“I’ve got ye, mouse.”
He carried her to her bedchambers, bidding Mary to come in and help her undress. He glanced at her from the door.
“Tomorrow night, ye’ll be in me bed,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, and Jeane shuddered with nerves and desire.
“Aye,” she breathed, and he broke into that boyish smile of his, leaving the room.
Jeane could not wait to marry the love of her life.
EPILOGUE
Annabel, Beatrice, Agnes, and Lottie all crowded around Jeane as they readied her for the ceremony.
Beatrice pinched Jeane’s cheeks until they were flushed and sore while Agnes and Lottie threaded foxglove through Jeane’s hair, being careful that none of it touched her skin.
Annabel was helping button Jeane’s dress which was trailing along the floor.
