Robbie appeared to lose patience with her. “He’s already committed to marrying ye. He canno’ back out of it now. Dry yer tears, Heather. Ye’ll be a marchioness before the month is out.”
Dahlia watched him stomp upstairs with Heather in his arms.
Ronan ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, Robbie’s hurting, too.”
Dahlia did not think she could feel any worse than she did now. “Is he in love with her?”
“I honestly don’t know. But he’s a Scot, and when a Scot loses his heart, it’s forever. Even a hound like Robbie.”
She nodded, now feeling quite miserable. “Let me fetch Uncle George.”
Ronan held onto her a moment longer. “I love you, Queen Pea. Please don’t be sad. Your sister has to make her own choices and live with her own decisions. You cannot live her life for her or force her to follow your advice. Put it out of your head for now. You need to put on a smile and dazzle our newly arrived guests.”
He tipped her chin up when he saw she was nibbling her lip, a sign of her fretting. “Queen Pea, it rips me apart to see you hurting.”
She reached up and kissed him. “I know, my love. I’ll be all right in a moment. I suppose there’s little I can do about Heather now. She and Robbie are together again...not under the best circumstances, but I have faith that whatever is meant to happen, will happen.”
She tucked her arm in his as they walked into their newly decorated parlor together. It was a beautiful room, done in soft tones with a splash of floral in the pillows and curtains. She considered saying a word to the Marquess of Tilbury, for he would surely have noticed Heather’s absence by now. But he appeared engaged in deep conversation with the Duke of Stoke and Lady Melinda.
A shiver ran up her spine.
Ronan frowned. “Love, are you certain you’re all right?”
“Yes. Let’s find Uncle George. Oh, there he is, talking to Rupert.”
She left the party a moment to lead her uncle upstairs. When they reached the guest bedchamber, they found Heather lying on the bed, her shoes and the stocking on her injured foot removed. Her foot was resting on a pillow, and she had a damp cloth across her brow.
“Thank you, Robbie,” Dahlia said, realizing it could only have been him tending to Heather.
George arched an eyebrow. “You’ve done most of the work, MacLauren. Left little for me to do but bind her ankle. Is it broken?”
“No, just a mild sprain.” He had been standing on the opposite side of the room, his back to all of them as he peered out the window onto the street below. But he turned to face them now. “I’ll be going. Ye dinna need me here.”
Heather gasped and sat up. “Robbie, please. Stay.”
He did not look at all delighted with the request. “Why?”
“Because I need you to read The Book of Love with me. I promised my sister I would. I broke my oath to her, and I’m so ashamed. I’ll be off my foot for a few days. Won’t I, Uncle George?”
Their uncle sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, two days for certain.”
“See, Robbie.” Heather cast him a pleading look that he ignored, refusing to even look at her. “I mean to make things right.”
“Och, pixie. Ye’re too late for that. I’ll return the book to ye before the week is out. Read it all ye like. Read it with yer marquess, for all I care.” He stormed out of the room.
Heather’s chin wobbled, and her eyes turned watery. “Oh, Dahlia! What have I done?”
Dahlia sat on the bed beside her sister and wrapped her arms around her. “Nothing that wasn’t meant to happen.” She fervently hoped so. “Just listen to your heart. The magic will happen.”
It had to happen, didn’t it?
Whether or not Heather ever read the book with Robbie.
Ronan walked in just then. “I was worried about you.”
Heather believed he was talking about her. “Only an ankle sprain,” she said. “I’ll be fine in a day or two, right Uncle George?”
“Yes, Heather.”
Dahlia kissed her sister. “I had better return to my guests. I’ll send a maid up to take care of you.”
She walked out with Ronan and turned to him just before they made their way downstairs. “Ronan, I love you.”
He arched an eyebrow. “What brought that on?”
“Other than you are wildly handsome, and I cannot keep my hands off you.”
He stroked her cheek affectionately. “I’m going to remind you of your words as I lure you into my bed tonight.”
“You cannot lure me if I’m determined to go willingly. Desperately. Eagerly.”
He grinned. “Fine. And by the way, feel free to explore my body to your heart’s content. I won’t stop you.” He nodded toward their bedchamber. “I’m sure no one will miss us. Care to...”
She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely, knowing she must have surprised him by her actions. “Oh, Ronan! I feel so off-balance. Every little thing seems to make me cry. I must have been insufferable this past week. And now Heather is overset, and it’s all my fault.”
“It isn’t. She knew what she was doing...or avoiding. Robbie’s back now, and I expect these next few weeks are not going to be dull. They are going to do whatever they are meant to do, and hearts will win out in the end. As for you...” He laughed softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Wretched. You know I am. I’ve been so worked up over this party and now Heather. My stomach is in a constant roil. I haven’t been able to hold down my food all week. Why are you laughing?”
He kissed her with aching sweetness. “Because, my love, I strongly suspect that roil you are feeling is my son or daughter.”
She looked up at him, gaping. “What? How can you be sure?”
He held out his hands, cupping them in the air and glancing at her breasts. “I know your body. You used to fill the cups of my hands, and now you spill over–”
“Ronan! That is not scientific at all.”
“But I’ll wager it is just as accurate. Dry your tears, my beautiful Queen Pea. I think I shall be a father by Christmas, and you shall be the most beautiful mother in the world.”
READ ON FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT THE HEART OF LOVE:
CHAPTER ONE
London, England
May 2021
Whatever Heather Farthingale expected to see while in the garden at the break of dawn was not the big Scot, Robert MacLauren, tumbling over the high stone wall of Number One Chipping Way and dropping like a giant boulder onto the decorative wooden bench that stood against the garden wall. “Robbie!”
He did not tumble so much as crash down and land flat on his back atop the bench that was never going to support the muscled heft of him hitting it with such impact. Heather was not surprised when the bench began to sway precariously or when the wooden slats gave an ominous groan and sharply cracked.
She winced as the entire bench collapsed beneath his magnificent body, leaving him sprawled and dazed in all his golden glory.
Well, there was no point denying that Robert MacLauren, captain in the Scots Greys, the Crown’s most distinguished cavalry regiment, was splendid in every way.