Prologue
Lockie had made up his mind.
He talked to his friend Laird Johnstone about her, to find out if there was anything else he should know.
“Is she wed?” he asked casually.
“Why?” The Laird asked, laughing. “You are already betrothed. Do you need a mistress?”
“No,” Lockie replied. “I want a wife. And now I see that Lorna is the woman I need.”
“And Robina?” the other man asked. “What about her?”
“I will write to her,” Lockie replied. “She will survive. I am sure her parents will find someone else for her.”
Robina Forsyth’s wedding dress fit her perfectly. It was made of plum-colored satin and a perfect foil for the rich red hair that flowed in shining waves down to her hips. She had a tiny waist, emphasized by the dress’s wide gold sash, which tied in a big bow at the back, and her long legs gave her the extra height to balance the wide skirt. The neck was a modest V and the sleeves were long, fitting, and ended in a point on the back of her hand.
Robina hated being tall. All the other girls of her acquaintance were at least two (and sometimes as much as four) inches shorter than she was—but at five feet, six inches tall, she was not exactly a giantess. The Scots were simply a short race and she was the exception to the rule.
Her dress had been a month in the making, with four fittings because she was a perfectionist, and had examined every stitch of it to make sure it met all her stringent requirements. Now she was satisfied, for with only a week to go, she was beginning to worry that the most beautiful dress in the world would not be ready in time.
Her future husband was Laird Lockie Campbell the Younger, a fair-haired pleasant-looking man of twenty-five, chosen for her by her parents because he was easygoing and good-natured, but most of all because he was about to inherit a fortune. His father was dying from consumption, and Lockie was to inherit his castle, estate, and a holiday home in Ireland.
Lockie had been very keen on the match as well because of Robina’s beauty, ability to socialize easily, and wonderful sense of humor. She was also not poor, although her wealth could not match his since her older brother David would inherit the estate.
Robina was more excited about the ceremony than she was about the marriage itself. Lockie was a good man, but not an exciting one, and she could not honestly say that she was looking forward to her wedding night, but hundreds of women got through it somehow, so it could not be so very difficult. Though some of her married friends scared her half to death with exaggerated horror stories of their wedding nights.
The fitting was soon done and the bride-to-be was satisfied that every last stitch had been finished to perfection. She pirouetted in front of her two best friends, twin sisters Cora and Fia McElwee, who were so alike that even their parents could not tell them apart sometimes.
“What do you think?” Robina asked, smiling from ear to ear.
Fia clapped her hands. “I have never seen you looking so lovely, Robina,” she breathed. “Lockie is a very lucky man!”
“Indeed he is!” Cora agreed. As she was speaking, she was uncorking a bottle of whisky and pouring them each a measure, then she held hers up for a toast. Thank God there were no men around to see them. “Sláinte mhath!” she said triumphantly. “To Robina’s dress!”
“And Robina’s marriage!” Fia chimed in again.
“And Lockie’s good fortune!” Cora cried.
“And Lockie’s kilt!” Fia went on, before they all dissolved into giggles.
“And what is underneath it!” Cora continued mischievously, before her sister gave her a shocked look and a playful punch.
All three of them were betrothed—Cora to another young laird and Fia to a prosperous merchant slightly older than herself—but Robina would be the first one to be married. Therefore, she would also be the first one who would find out about the mysteries of love, and the McElwee twins could hardly stand the suspense of waiting for the wedding.
Robina knew that the two McElwee sisters would want a blow-by-blow account, but they would be sadly disappointed. Friendship only went so far when it came to confidences of that magnitude!
Presently there was a knock at the bedroom door and a maidservant came in with a piece of folded parchment in her hand. It was sealed with the Campbell crest. Immediately the twins descended on Robina like a pair of eagles intent on their prey.
“Give me peace!” Robina laughed. “Do not make me throw you out!”
The sisters retreated, giggling, and poured themselves each another drink of whisky. They were going to make a night of it!
Robina retired to the far end of the room so she could read undisturbed. She opened the message.
1
A Message
