The Highlander's English Bride (The Lairds Most Likely 6)

"And waste that gorgeous dress? Perish the thought." He reached into his coat and drew out a narrow velvet case. "Which reminds me – I came in to give you your wedding present."

She sat up straighter on her stool and made herself stop fidgeting with her dress. "You already gave me a wedding present."

"That dress doesn’t count."

"I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking of handfuls of pearls, three housemaids, two footmen, and a bevy of nurses."

"I don’t like to live in an inadequately staffed house. I do have some standards, you know."

"I see." If not for the nurses, she might almost believe he’d put on the new staff for purely selfish reasons. Because while she spent half her life wanting to clout him, she wasn’t blind to the wide streak of kindness that ran through him. She’d benefited from it last night when he sat up with her father. He’d been tired, too. Their wedding day had been no easier for him than it had been for her.

"See what you think of this." He held the slim case out and without thinking, she accepted it. "It’s only a small token, but I hope you like it. There are the family jewels, too, of course."

Of course, she thought with bleak humor. Didn’t everyone have family jewels?

He was still talking. "They’re in the bank in Edinburgh. I can have them sent down, if you have a yen to see them."

"Perhaps later," she said faintly, feeling overwhelmed again.

When she opened the case, overwhelmed didn’t come close to describing her reaction. Bewildered, she looked up from the sparkle of diamonds. "Hamish, it’s too much. I can’t accept this."

He smiled. "Yes, you can. You’re my wife, and I’m proud of you. I want the world to see how much I value you."

Her stomach sank in misery as she shut the case with a snap. "You don’t mean that."

He sent her a straight look. "Yes, I do. I don’t want anyone whispering that we made a shabby bargain." He paused and subjected her to a thorough inspection that had her heart hopping and skipping in a most provoking way. Perhaps she was coming down with something. "Anyway you were born to wear diamonds."

"I wouldn’t know. I don’t own any." One nervous hand rose to play with her mother’s gold locket. The necklace was pretty, but even Emily acknowledge that its modest sweetness didn’t match the splendid gown.

"You do now." Unfamiliar tenderness tinged his smile. "Shall I put the necklace on for you, or should I call Polly back? We ought to leave soon. My mother expects us at eight."

Calling Polly was the wiser choice, but even sensible bluestocking Emily wasn’t proof against the idea of a handsome man draping her in jewels. She held out the case. "Please, you do it."

And told herself she was stupid to thrill at the pleasure warming his eyes as he took the case. Two days married, and she discovered that she was in danger of developing a lamebrained, completely unrequited tendre for her husband. She’d expected these first days as a wife to be fraught with conflict. Compared to the gamboling of her dimwitted heart, conflict seemed preferable.

Be careful, Emily.

Because while she knew now that Hamish would gladly make this a real marriage, she was under no illusions that she remained anything but an inconvenient bride. Since the occasion when he’d behaved so badly, he’d behaved well. But they both knew he merely put a good face on a disaster.

Nor did she imagine he’d stay as charming or attentive as he was now. He wouldn’t be cruel, or at least not deliberately. Under all that gilded magnificence, he had a good heart. If he hadn’t, she’d never have married him, scandal or no scandal. But if she allowed herself to care for him, she invited an ocean of trouble.

She turned on the stool to present him with her back. In the mirror, she watched him open the case and take out what looked like a fistful of diamonds. He set the empty case on the dressing table and leaned forward. He was close enough for her to catch his scent. Citrus and clean healthy male.

For one giddy second, she was back in bed with him, while his hand played forbidden – glorious – music on her body. Her breath caught in an audible gulp, and she told herself to settle down.

"Are you all right?" he murmured.

How on earth could that sound like a promise of pleasure? If only they were downstairs in one of the more workaday rooms, not here in her bedroom.

"Perfectly." She heard the wobble in her voice.

"Stay still."

With a deftness that spoke volumes for his familiarity with feminine gewgaws, he released the clasp on her locket and drew it from around her neck. "Pretty."

"It was my mother’s." She hoped he’d put her husky tone down to grief.

Emily lifted one hand to take the delicate necklace, then watched Hamish loop the diamonds around her throat. The emerald silk dress was more décolleté than her usual gowns. Madame Lisette had insisted that a married woman needed to stop dressing like a nun.