The Lover
The remark, meant to be encouraging, merely made her spirits sink further. A magnificent lover would want an equally superb partner in his bed. At the very least, a bride who could hold a candle to the countless beauties he had known.
“Well,” the widow said briskly, “I had best take my leave if I mean to accomplish anything today. Don’t concern yourself with the wedding arrangements, my dear. You may rely on me to handle everything.”
Eve rose and drew on her gloves. Before she turned to go, however, she glanced sympathetically at Sabrina. “I have only one word of advice, my dear,” she said a bit sadly. “When you wed Niall, do not think to give your heart to him. He will only return it, bruised and battered.”
Sabrina forced a smile. She had given her heart freely once and had it rejected. She had no intention of ever repeating that painful mistake, especially with a notorious rake like Niall McLaren. He would slice her heart to ribbons if she allowed it. “I shall heed your warning quite earnestly, I assure you.”
With the Widow Graham’s aid, the plans for Sabrina’s marriage moved forward at lightning speed. Sabrina numbly endured the storm of activity around her as the women of Clan Duncan burst into action, readying for guests who would travel from miles away, and preparing food and drink for the wedding feast.
Her one consolation was her stepfather’s arrival late the following day. When a footman came to alert her, Sabrina ran down the steps to the hall, where he was being shown in.
“Papa Charles,” Sabrina exclaimed. Laughing and crying at once, she launched herself into his welcoming embrace, and remained there clinging to his lean form, drawing comfort. It was a long moment before she permitted him to draw back.
Tall and spare to the point of gauntness, Charles Cameron appeared stern and forbidding until one glimpsed the lively twinkle in his gray eyes. Presently, however, he looked exhausted from his long ride, and more than a little dismayed.
“Never tell me these are tears, lass?”
“No,” Sabrina lied, wiping away the telltale moistness. “I am merely glad to see you.” She hadn’t realized how much she missed him, or yearned for his counsel. “You should not have come all this way.”
“Pah, my only daughter is to wed, and you tell me I am not invited to witness it?”
Sabrina felt herself smile at his teasing. “Of course you are invited. But your trade cannot bear your absence.”
“My clerks can handle the business for a few days.”
“That is not what you claim when you wish me to review the account books.”
“I did not say they could supplant you, lass. Their errors will doubtless drive me into penury, if you can no longer oversee them. But enough of that. Tell me what you are about. First I receive Angus Duncan’s invitation to the wedding celebration, then your letter saying the betrothal was canceled. Then the missive I received yesterday from Laird McLaren said the betrothal was resumed and that you are indeed to wed tomorrow.”
“Yes, Papa Charles. I fear I have gotten myself into a fix.”
“Have you now?” His gentle gaze held deep concern.
Sabrina looked away. “You must be weary. Let me show you to your chamber and make you comfortable.”
“All in good time. What I wish to know is, have you gone daft, or is this marriage truly what you desire?”
“I haven’t gone daft. I…think it is for the best. Our marriage will unite our clans and provide the Duncans with a powerful ally.”
“I can see Angus Duncan’s fine hand at work, or I miss my guess.”
“Grandfather has his heart set on the marriage, true.”
“But what is your heart set on?”
“I am not really certain.”
“Do you love this man, Sabrina?”
“No,” she said a bit too emphatically. “How could I? I have only recently made his acquaintance.” And what she did know of Niall was not encouraging.
“Lass, I know you,” Charles warned. “You will not be happy without love.”
Sabrina shook her head. She had once dreamed of finding love, but this was the sort of bargain women had been making for centuries, an arranged marriage for political advantage. Love did not enter into the reckoning.
“My happiness is not the most important concern. There are lives at stake…the future of an entire clan.”
Her stepfather patted her hand. “Well, you’ve a keen head on your shoulders. And I doubt you would do anything foolish. If you mean to carry through with it, I can only support you. I’ve brought something for you. Your mother would wish you to have it.”