he would have his business interests and his search for Anna to occupy him.
The thought of his one remaining sister twisted his heart with guilt and grief. Where could she be? He had searched and searched for her ever since his return to Scotland. If only he had come home sooner. If only he hadn’t been so determined to prove himself and make a success of his life. If only—
With a silent curse, he wrenched his thoughts from the past. He rarely allowed himself to dwell on it and, if it wasn’t for the constant fear of what had become of Anna, he would have banished all thought of the past fourteen years by now. He hauled in a deep breath, pushing that ball of gnawing worry aside, and returned his attention to his new bride.
She appeared demure enough—docile even—but...it must have taken some spirit to refuse a duke. He frowned. Maybe she had hidden depths? Her mother had called her stubborn—was it that trait keeping her silent? He thrust his conjectures aside. They were two strangers now bound together for life and it was only fair to get to know her better before judging her.
He continued his scrutiny, remembering his body’s reaction to her wide-eyed gaze in the kirk and the doubts that had swamped him. The memory rendered him even more tongue-tied than ever. He had no experience of how to treat a real lady, especially not one who now belonged to him body and soul. The responsibility didn’t set well on his shoulders. He wasn’t a man who developed friendships with ease, let alone a relationship such as this. Husband and wife.
‘Pardon?’
She had spoken. Or he thought she had. But he had been inside his own head and missed her quiet comment.
‘Where are we going?’
Her simple question stole his breath. All this time he’d been wallowing in his own awkwardness and discomfort and yet she—nineteen years of age and married to a man she had never met—did not even know where he was taking her.
‘We are going home.’
She frowned, her smooth forehead wrinkling.
‘How far?’
He glanced out of the window. They had left the coast behind and were now heading south from Loch Machrie through Kilmachrie Glen, bordered to the west by the ocean—currently invisible—and to the east by rugged green hills, moors and glens. They were passing the standing stones he had noticed on the journey to Castle McCrieff, and he knew they would not see the sea again until they turned off this road and headed south-west, towards the rugged promontory on which Lochmore Castle was built.
‘About two hours. Maybe a little more.’
She lowered her head and her hand crept up to touch a brooch pinned to her travelling cloak.
‘Where did you get that brooch?’
Her head snapped round as her hand closed around it. ‘It is mine.’
‘I don’t doubt it. But it was not on your cloak earlier.’
Her face flamed and he recalled the tremble of her hand as he handed her into the carriage. He gentled his voice.
‘I shall not take it from you. It was a harmless enough question, I thought. One that surely deserves an answer?’
He smiled at her, keen to ease this tension that shimmered between them.
‘It was in my pocket. My father said it was unsuitable for my wedding day.’
‘May I see it?’
Lachlan reached for the edge of Flora’s cloak. He withdrew his hand when he saw her flinch.
‘Are you afraid of me?’
Those green eyes sought his. ‘A...a little.’
‘Your father...he is a strict man?’
‘H-he has very strong ideas of correct behaviour.’ Her eyes blazed before her lashes lowered to shield her emotion. ‘I did not always behave as he wished.’
‘You refused a duke. And your father was...what? Angry? He punished you?’
‘They were all angry.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I let them all down.’
‘Well, I tell you this, Lady Flora McNeill. I do not believe in physical punishment—’ he had seen enough of that to last him several lifetimes, on board the convict ship and afterwards at the penal colony in New South Wales ‘—and you need never fear I will raise my hand against you.’ He put his hand on her leg. ‘You have my word.’
She released a quiet sigh. ‘I thank you.’
But her thigh was rigid beneath his hand and he wondered if some of her fear might be of the night to come. She was a maiden and she might not even know what to expect of the marriage bed. Had her mother instructed her? Allayed her fears? He returned his hand to his own lap. There were no reassurances he could offer that would not result in embarrassment for them both—he must hope that once the hurdle of their wedding night was out of the way she would relax in his company.
* * *
Flora’s stomach tied in ever tighter knots the further they travelled from the only home she had ever known. Her throat tightened and the tears that had lurked beneath the surface for the past two days threatened to spill—her family might have been resentful and critical of her over the past year, but at least they were familiar. She gulped, holding back the tears by sheer force of will.
Lachlan’s voice broke into her thoughts.
‘Are you hungry? You ate very little at the wedding breakfast. I can instruct the coachman to halt for a few minutes.’
He was well spoken: his voice deep and melodious with a barely discernible Scottish burr. About to refuse, for she was eager to reach their destination and escape the close confines of the carriage as soon as possible, Flora realised maybe it was he who was hungry.
‘Thank you. Yes, that would be welcomed.’
She couldn’t stomach a thing, but maybe a drink would help moisten her dry mouth and throat. Lachlan rapped on the carriage ceiling and, after a few minutes, the vehicle turned off the road. Lachlan jumped out, lowered the steps and handed Flora from the carriage. She noted once again the strength in his grip. His arm under her hand as they had walked back down the aisle had been rock hard—he had a powerful physique and, despite the anxiety stringing her nerves tight, she couldn’t help but feel a quiver of anticipation at the thought of their wedding night.
The two men on the box climbed down—the coachman checking the horses and the groom hurrying to the rear of the carriage to unstrap the basket Maggie had provided.
‘Would you...er...?’ Lachlan gestured vaguely in the direction of a low clump of bushes some twenty yards from where they stood.
Flora’s cheeks burned. ‘No. Thank you. I... I just need to stretch my legs a little.’
He nodded and she walked back along the road. She cast her gaze around her at the magnificent brooding landscape, the broad glen bordered by rugged hills. There was no sign of human habitation. Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. And, even if there was, there was nowhere she
