Read Online The Devil Wears Tartan by Karen Ranney - Free Book Online
Authors: Karen Ranney
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opened her eyes, disappointed to find only Nora standing there.
Where was he? What was he doing? Were his thoughts as occupied with her as hers were with him?
Why had he left her after their first night together? Should she have been more circumspect in her response to him? Should she have been silent? Or should she have praised him in some way? Or should she have revealed the extent of her behavior to him, confessed her shame in detail?
This matter of being a bride was a great deal more complicated than it first appeared. Nor had she thought to ask her aunt such questions. Even now she didn’t know if she could go to Theresa. Who, then, could she ask?
Dear heavens, what did she do now?
Should she be thinking so much of him? Or should she be dismissive of the entire experience, and treat her first night as a married woman with no more importance than the liaison with Alisdair? Except, of course, that it had been nothing like that afternoon with Alisdair. Nothing.
From this moment on, she’d never be the same. Her life would forever be labeled in two parts: before she was married, and afterward. Were there going to be other revelations in her marriage? Discoveries that would ultimately teach her as much about herself as about her husband?
Being bedded by the Earl of Lorne had been a fascinating experience, one that ranged from the tactile to the emotional. Davina had loved the touch of his fingers and his lips on her skin. His kisses had almost made her faint in delight, and she’d disappeared to another place when he’d brought her to pleasure. She’d never expected her wedding night to be so enjoyable. Nor had she anticipated being assaulted by so many feelings: fear, joy, and sadness.
“It’s a fair day, Miss Davina,” Nora said, interrupting her reverie. “Oh, Your Ladyship. You’re the Countess of Lorne now.”
How very odd. She was, wasn’t she? How very strange that she’d not remembered until this moment. “Your Ladyship” didn’t sound quite right, though. Perhaps she simply had to become used to it
“What about the peach gown, Your Ladyship?”
On any other day Davina wouldn’t have cared about her attire. But she wanted to be dressed in her best today, to wear something that flattered her skin and brought out the color of her eyes. “I think the blue stripe, Nora.”
Nora didn’t comment, but her eyes twinkled as if she bit back a remark. Very well, let her maid think her foolish. What did it matter? What did it matter if the whole world saw her as silly and vain?
The fabric of her dress was a narrow greenish-blue stripe and fitted tightly in the bodice, a row of tiny black pearl buttons stretching from the neck to the waist. The pagoda sleeves were wide, ending in white cuffs at her wrists. The full shape of her dress wasmaintained by the balmoral skirt, comprised of a hoop topped by a woolen overskirt. All in all, it was heavier than a normal hoop cage, but at least it didn’t require that she wear two petticoats to ensure that the outline of the hoop couldn’t be seen.
The white collar and the dark blue bow at her throat gave her the appearance of a girl not far from the schoolroom. But there was a look in her eyes that belied that impression. Did passion linger in the expression? Or did her eyes reveal something more?
Nora had braided her hair, and the plaits were arranged in a coronet at the back of her head. With her pink cheeks and sparkling eyes, she looked quite acceptable. Pretty, perhaps. Thinking she was more than that would simply be vanity.
A moment later, Davina left the suite, holding her hand up when Nora would have accompanied her.
“I’m going to find my husband,” she said. “I do not need a companion for that.”
It was going to be difficult enough to view Marshall in the light of day; she didn’t want any witnesses to their meeting.
Nora only nodded, but there was that look again, as if she knew quite well what Davina was thinking. Was her maid more
Where was he? What was he doing? Were his thoughts as occupied with her as hers were with him?
Why had he left her after their first night together? Should she have been more circumspect in her response to him? Should she have been silent? Or should she have praised him in some way? Or should she have revealed the extent of her behavior to him, confessed her shame in detail?
This matter of being a bride was a great deal more complicated than it first appeared. Nor had she thought to ask her aunt such questions. Even now she didn’t know if she could go to Theresa. Who, then, could she ask?
Dear heavens, what did she do now?
Should she be thinking so much of him? Or should she be dismissive of the entire experience, and treat her first night as a married woman with no more importance than the liaison with Alisdair? Except, of course, that it had been nothing like that afternoon with Alisdair. Nothing.
From this moment on, she’d never be the same. Her life would forever be labeled in two parts: before she was married, and afterward. Were there going to be other revelations in her marriage? Discoveries that would ultimately teach her as much about herself as about her husband?
Being bedded by the Earl of Lorne had been a fascinating experience, one that ranged from the tactile to the emotional. Davina had loved the touch of his fingers and his lips on her skin. His kisses had almost made her faint in delight, and she’d disappeared to another place when he’d brought her to pleasure. She’d never expected her wedding night to be so enjoyable. Nor had she anticipated being assaulted by so many feelings: fear, joy, and sadness.
“It’s a fair day, Miss Davina,” Nora said, interrupting her reverie. “Oh, Your Ladyship. You’re the Countess of Lorne now.”
How very odd. She was, wasn’t she? How very strange that she’d not remembered until this moment. “Your Ladyship” didn’t sound quite right, though. Perhaps she simply had to become used to it
“What about the peach gown, Your Ladyship?”
On any other day Davina wouldn’t have cared about her attire. But she wanted to be dressed in her best today, to wear something that flattered her skin and brought out the color of her eyes. “I think the blue stripe, Nora.”
Nora didn’t comment, but her eyes twinkled as if she bit back a remark. Very well, let her maid think her foolish. What did it matter? What did it matter if the whole world saw her as silly and vain?
The fabric of her dress was a narrow greenish-blue stripe and fitted tightly in the bodice, a row of tiny black pearl buttons stretching from the neck to the waist. The pagoda sleeves were wide, ending in white cuffs at her wrists. The full shape of her dress wasmaintained by the balmoral skirt, comprised of a hoop topped by a woolen overskirt. All in all, it was heavier than a normal hoop cage, but at least it didn’t require that she wear two petticoats to ensure that the outline of the hoop couldn’t be seen.
The white collar and the dark blue bow at her throat gave her the appearance of a girl not far from the schoolroom. But there was a look in her eyes that belied that impression. Did passion linger in the expression? Or did her eyes reveal something more?
Nora had braided her hair, and the plaits were arranged in a coronet at the back of her head. With her pink cheeks and sparkling eyes, she looked quite acceptable. Pretty, perhaps. Thinking she was more than that would simply be vanity.
A moment later, Davina left the suite, holding her hand up when Nora would have accompanied her.
“I’m going to find my husband,” she said. “I do not need a companion for that.”
It was going to be difficult enough to view Marshall in the light of day; she didn’t want any witnesses to their meeting.
Nora only nodded, but there was that look again, as if she knew quite well what Davina was thinking. Was her maid more
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