Read Online Plaid to the Bone by Mia Marlowe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mia Marlowe
Tags: Fiction, Historical Romance
Ads: Link
owned. It would likely take Grizel an hour to dress her, what with the many separate pieces—corset, tight-fitting bodice, slim detachable sleeves, an underskirt and overskirt of scarlet sarcenet, all to be draped over a farthingale—a wicked-looking collection of stiffened cane hoops that reminded Cait of a fishing weir. There was also a lacy partlet to tuck into her bodice to cover her bosom and ensure she looked a suitably demure bride.
For a moment, she imagined what it would be like for Adam to remove the partlet and bare her breasts nearly to the nipples.
No’ a thing demure about that.
Cait’s wedding gown had been packed with lavender sachets and as Grizel fluffed the fabric pieces in the air to smooth out travel wrinkles, the fragrant scent filled the room.
When Adam caught a whiff of it later, would he recognize it as the smell of betrayal?
Cait gave herself a mental box on the ears. Nothing would be served by being double-minded. She’d sworn. She’d deliver.
“Och, there ye are, milady,” Grizel singsonged when she spied Cait from the corner of her sharp eyes. “Just in time to see what the laird brought round for ye.” She waved a gnarled hand toward the small wooden box resting on the foot of Cait’s bed.
“Why did he risk coming to my chamber?” Cait demanded, more tetchily than she ought. Perhaps Grizel would put it down to maidenly nerves instead of the frustration of a thwarted murderess. “Does the man no’ ken ’tis bad luck for the groom to see the bride before they meet in kirk?”
“But he didna see ye, did he now? So, no harm done. Besides, his lordship was quite insistent that ye have this gift before the wedding.” Grizel gave the kirtle another quick shake, making the fabric snap as the last of the lavender tumbled out of its folds. “Open it, child.”
The box was of dark wood, ornately carved with mother-of-pearl inset along the corners, but Cait approached it as if an adder was coiled inside. Instead, when she opened the hinged lid, she discovered a breathtaking string of matched pearls. Each small orb had developed the luminous glow of age. A finely worked gold pendant in the shape of a filigreed “B” hung from the center.
“B for Bonniebroch, I’ll be bound,” Grizel said. She knew her letters, but had never learned to write much more than her own name. “He said as there’s a note for ye as well.”
True enough, a small roll of foolscap bound with a blue silk ribbon rested beside the pearls. Cait picked it up and walked over to the window for better light before she unrolled it. The script was rough and angular, and an inkblot marred one line of the missive. These were not the precise strokes of a scribe. Adam had written the note with his own hand.
My dear Cait,
The pearls were my mother’s. They have belonged to the Lady of Bonniebroch for as long as the tower has stood. Now, they are yours.
My old tutor taught me that a pearl is formed because something has irritated the oyster, a grain of sand perhaps or some other bit of flotsam, and over time the oyster coats nacre around this irritant until it’s too smooth to bother its host. In the process, it also becomes too beautiful to hide away in an oyster.
It occurs to me that we’re a bit like a pearl, you and me. We started by irritating each other but will, I believe, over time be left with a thing of beauty shimmering between us.
I ken that our union is not by your choice. Nor mine. But before God and man, I promise to love you, and I mean to keep that promise. If my body and my will purpose a thing, I’m convinced my heart will follow.
Until then, I am content to be . . .
Your grain of sand,
Adam Cameron, Laird of Bonniebroch
Her vision blurred with unshed tears. They trembled on her lower lashes but didn’t fall until Grizel said her name. The old woman scurried over and put her bony arms around her.
“Oh, my lamb, what has the wicked man said to make ye weep?”
She wished her
For a moment, she imagined what it would be like for Adam to remove the partlet and bare her breasts nearly to the nipples.
No’ a thing demure about that.
Cait’s wedding gown had been packed with lavender sachets and as Grizel fluffed the fabric pieces in the air to smooth out travel wrinkles, the fragrant scent filled the room.
When Adam caught a whiff of it later, would he recognize it as the smell of betrayal?
Cait gave herself a mental box on the ears. Nothing would be served by being double-minded. She’d sworn. She’d deliver.
“Och, there ye are, milady,” Grizel singsonged when she spied Cait from the corner of her sharp eyes. “Just in time to see what the laird brought round for ye.” She waved a gnarled hand toward the small wooden box resting on the foot of Cait’s bed.
“Why did he risk coming to my chamber?” Cait demanded, more tetchily than she ought. Perhaps Grizel would put it down to maidenly nerves instead of the frustration of a thwarted murderess. “Does the man no’ ken ’tis bad luck for the groom to see the bride before they meet in kirk?”
“But he didna see ye, did he now? So, no harm done. Besides, his lordship was quite insistent that ye have this gift before the wedding.” Grizel gave the kirtle another quick shake, making the fabric snap as the last of the lavender tumbled out of its folds. “Open it, child.”
The box was of dark wood, ornately carved with mother-of-pearl inset along the corners, but Cait approached it as if an adder was coiled inside. Instead, when she opened the hinged lid, she discovered a breathtaking string of matched pearls. Each small orb had developed the luminous glow of age. A finely worked gold pendant in the shape of a filigreed “B” hung from the center.
“B for Bonniebroch, I’ll be bound,” Grizel said. She knew her letters, but had never learned to write much more than her own name. “He said as there’s a note for ye as well.”
True enough, a small roll of foolscap bound with a blue silk ribbon rested beside the pearls. Cait picked it up and walked over to the window for better light before she unrolled it. The script was rough and angular, and an inkblot marred one line of the missive. These were not the precise strokes of a scribe. Adam had written the note with his own hand.
My dear Cait,
The pearls were my mother’s. They have belonged to the Lady of Bonniebroch for as long as the tower has stood. Now, they are yours.
My old tutor taught me that a pearl is formed because something has irritated the oyster, a grain of sand perhaps or some other bit of flotsam, and over time the oyster coats nacre around this irritant until it’s too smooth to bother its host. In the process, it also becomes too beautiful to hide away in an oyster.
It occurs to me that we’re a bit like a pearl, you and me. We started by irritating each other but will, I believe, over time be left with a thing of beauty shimmering between us.
I ken that our union is not by your choice. Nor mine. But before God and man, I promise to love you, and I mean to keep that promise. If my body and my will purpose a thing, I’m convinced my heart will follow.
Until then, I am content to be . . .
Your grain of sand,
Adam Cameron, Laird of Bonniebroch
Her vision blurred with unshed tears. They trembled on her lower lashes but didn’t fall until Grizel said her name. The old woman scurried over and put her bony arms around her.
“Oh, my lamb, what has the wicked man said to make ye weep?”
She wished her
Similar Books
