“Shall we go and see about our wedding breakfast, Wife?” Blayne asked with a twinkle in his eyes. The inn where they were staying would provide it in one of their supper rooms.
Charlotte grinned. “Indeed we shall, Husband.”
“Ach, I do like the sound of that word,” he said as they set off together, arm in arm.
The wedding breakfast was a small affair, hardly worth mentioning at all by Mayfair standards. In Charlotte’s opinion, it was perfect. Devoid of nosy gossips and those who had to be invited because of their rank, it consisted only of the people who truly cared about Charlotte’s and Blayne’s well-being. There was no judgment to be found here, no condescension or shocked dismay over a viscount’s daughter marrying a St. Giles tavern keep who’d been accused of murder. Only happiness reigned, and it was wonderful.
“My mistress would like to offer ye both a wedding gift,” Hannah said when Mrs. Callanach nudged her after dessert.
“That’s generous, Mama, but there’s really nae need,” Blayne said. He looked slightly uncomfortable all of a sudden, so Charlotte placed her hand over his to offer support.
“Ye’re her son,” Hannah said. “Her only child. And she is yer only parent, so if she feels the need, ye ought to accept it with grace.”
Mrs. Callanach nodded her agreement, then handed a piece of paper to Blayne. After unfolding it, he proceeded to read. His eyes widened. “This is too much. We cannae possibly accept.”
His mother handed him another piece of paper and smiled as only a mother could when faced with a stubborn child. Blayne frowned. “I knew ye’d say that,” he read, “but I insist.”
“What is the gift?” Charlotte asked, her curiosity mounting with each passing second.
“Read for yerself.” Blayne handed her the letter, then told his mother, “I really dinnae deserve this.”
Another note crossed the table. “It’s not just for ye. It’s also for yer wife and…” Blayne’s voice faltered slightly before he managed to add, “my grandchildren.”
With heat creeping into her cheeks, Charlotte tried to focus on her own reading while Blayne and Hannah exchanged a few words. And now Marcus was adding his opinion and Daisy too. Doing her best to block them all out, Charlotte fixed her gaze on the neatly penned words before her.
With no inheritance to speak of and having sacrificed your own hard-earned savings in order to free the woman you love from a disagreeable union, your future is not as secure as it ought to have been. I’m sorry for this. The events that took place so long ago and forced you to flee are largely my fault, and while I cannot change the past, I hope to have some influence over the future. As such, I wish to bestow upon you and your wife the sum of four thousand pounds.
Charlotte sucked in a breath.
The funds are the remainder of my inheritance from my father. He always believed a woman should have her own means by which to support herself. Just in case.
Smart fellow. Charlotte wished she could have met him.
She folded the letter and met Mrs. Callanach’s gaze. “Thank you. This truly is most magnanimous of you.” To Blayne she said, “I’ll let you decide what to do, but consider the following first. We have invited your mother and Hannah to live with us. Children will follow if things take their natural course. So maybe that cottage we had in mind, or something slightly bigger, would not be the worst idea. Provided we can afford it?”
He took a deep breath while pressing his lips together in obvious disapproval. “It’s a huge sum, Charlotte.”
“Agreed.” Lowering her voice, Charlotte told him softly. “I’m happy to stay at The Black Swan if you prefer, but I think it would please your mother to know she was able to help you in some way.”
“I suppose the countryside would be a better spot for us to raise a family,” he grumbled.
“And you can plant as many crops as you like.”
“That would nae be my reason for accepting this.”
“No. Of course not. But you have to admit it’s an added benefit.” She gave him a wry smile. “But the fact is, we’ll still need an income. Of course I’ll keep writing, but with a decent piece of land, you could earn a living too from the very thing you dream of doing. We could in fact end up getting exactly what we’ve both wanted for so long much quicker than if we were to refuse your mother’s kindness.”
“I dunno.” He glanced at his mother.
“I can just see you managing a shop full of plants on some village high-street,” Charlotte murmured. “Say yes, and give her your thanks.”
He promptly did as she asked. The edge of his mouth twitched. He shook his head as laughter seeped into his eyes. “Am I to be managed by ye in this way for the rest of my days now?”
“Not at all,” Charlotte quipped as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I promise never to try and sway your opinion on Sundays.”
Everyone laughed in response to that swift rejoinder, then raised their glasses in celebration of the newly married couple. It was later agreed Blayne and Charlotte would leave for London five days later together with Mrs. Callanach, Hannah, and Daisy, since this would allow Marcus the time he needed to learn if he would be staying in Edinburgh or not.
“Have I ever told ye how stunning ye are?” Blayne asked Charlotte when they retreated to his bedchamber later. Leaning against the door, he watched her move around the room with a restless energy. “I remember the very first moment I saw ye, sitting at a table at The Black Swan. Ye were the bonniest lass I’d ever laid eyes on, but it bothered the hell out of me that I couldnae discern the length of yer hair.”
She stopped at that and turned toward him, her expression one of puzzlement. “How curious.”
“It was hidden beneath yer bonnet.” He pushed away from the door and moved toward her. “The next day, when I came to yer home, I learned yer hair must be quite long and thick to produce the voluminous knot at the nape of yer neck. Now, I finally get to discover how long it really is and how it feels between my fingers.”
Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink as she gazed back at him with endless wonder. Lips parted, he could not resist. He closed the distance and captured her mouth with his while pulling her flush up against him. God, she tasted divine, and the way she wound her slim arms around his neck until she clung to him for support was enough to drive him mad with longing.
His hand stole its way up her back until his fingers connected with the first hairpin. Pulling it free he sought out another, and another, and the one after that, until her lustrous black locks fell over her shoulders.
“Christ, ye’re divine,” he told her when he managed to get a good look at her. “I want ye like this every day from now on.”
“It really wouldn’t be proper,” she said with a shy smile that urged him to kiss her once more.
“It will when we’re alone together,” he told her while pulling her back in his arms. “And just so ye ken, lass, I plan on that happening a lot.”
She answered him with a kiss of her own and as he deepened the caress, he lost himself completely in her warmth, her scent, and her flavor. She was perfect in every way and he craved her – craved the nearness they’d have without all this fabric between them, and the bond they would share once they joined their bodies together.