Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(67)
Rolfe was already heading toward the door, but Adwin stepped into his path. “Sign the offer and seal it.”
The secretary nodded and fumbled in his desk for a wax stick. He melted it with the candle and pressed the seal of the Earl of Bedford into the wax. Adwin pushed Rolfe back toward the table.
Rolfe snorted at his captain, but took the quill offered to him and affixed his name to the document.
Adwin took it and nodded. “Do nae be thinking no’ to transfer these funds.”
“As long as you are successful in making certain there is no marriage with the Campbells. There must be witnesses.”
“I wed her in front of witnesses,” Rolfe declared.
“A Catholic wedding?”
“It is nae illegal in Scotland,” Adwin advised the man.
“Yet her dowry resides in England, where a Catholic wedding is not recognized,” the secretary stated in a firm business tone. “If Lord Campbell’s nephew consummates his union with her, the marriage will be considered valid.”
“She’ll be a widow if he does,” Rolfe snarled before he left the house.
*
“Ye will no longer need that dress.”
The Earl of Morton had followed her right into the bridal chamber. Katherine turned to consider the man who was quite determined to see her consummate her wedding. “There seems little reason to remove it.”
Robert Campbell was lying in the middle of the bed, flat on his back, where his father’s men had tossed him after carrying him away from the wedding feast. He was snoring loudly, the stench of French wine rising off him.
Morton cursed. He moved over to the bedside and shook Robert’s shoulder. He earned a snort and sputter from the man before the snoring resumed.
Katherine turned back toward the door as a giggle alerted her to more company. Two couples were coming into the chamber with excited looks on their faces.
“We are not too late,” one of them exclaimed. “The bride is still dressed.”
They came right in and stood by the bed, intent on watching everything as though it were a new play.
Katherine felt like retching.
Depravity had merely been a word until that moment.
“I will return,” Morton announced. He stormed through the chamber and sent the others scurrying with a flick of his hand. He paused for a moment and grabbed the pitcher of wine set out on the table with a selection of cheese and fruit.
There were sounds of disappointment from those waiting to watch while they went toward the chamber door. A moment later, Katherine was sealed in with nothing but the sound of Robert’s snoring.
A reprieve.
Honestly, she was not sure if it were a blessing, because it allotted her more time to dwell on her circumstances.
She looked toward the bed and felt disgust well up in her.
A reprieve was a reprieve.
The dress was the most formal thing she had ever worn, with a tightly laced corset, a hip roll, and a farthingale. There were long, hanging sleeves, and tight inner ones, all decorated with pearls. The silk swished when she moved, and the entire thing required a great deal of concentration on her hips and posture to keep it from swinging like a large church bell. She wanted nothing more than to be rid of it, but couldn’t reach the laces.
It was also dreadfully heavy.
She plucked a few slices of cheese from the plate as she made her way to a chair and sat down.
Life was so much more practical in the Highlands.
Tears stung her eyes. She was never going to see those places again.
Fate had reclaimed her.
*
“That is no’ how ye wear it,” Adwin chastised one of his fellow McTavishes in a rough whisper.
“As if ye know any better,” the man argued. “It’s too tight.”
“I dragged that one in here because he’s the same size as ye.” Adwin pointed at the man lying unconscious on the floor of the small storage chamber. He reached out and tugged on the doublet until it came up and over the retainer’s arms.
“No muscle on him.”
“Aye,” Adwin agreed. He looked over at Rolfe, who was struggling to button a doublet. “They’ll draw and quarter us for this if they catch us.”
“One fine thing about Morton refusing to ennoble those around him for the past few years…” Rolfe pulled the hat down on his head. “We’re all commoners.”
“That won’t make a bit of difference,” Adwin argued. “And the Campbells will slit yer throat for wearing their colors.”
Rolfe merely grinned. “They’ll have to catch me first.”
He leaned down and stripped a young boy of his outer garments and boots. He stuffed the clothing under the front of a doublet one of his retainers was wearing that had come off a man with a large, round belly.
“Let’s go get me wife.”
There was no pleasure in his tone, simply pure determination. The consequences didn’t concern him.
Only the very real threat of being unsuccessful.
*
Katherine indulged her need to think of the Highlands and drifted off into sleep. Her dreams were light and filled with memories of the place she’d called home for the last few years. Marcus and finally Rolfe.
God, he was a handsome brute.
Perhaps it was a sin, but she adored looking at him. Her wedding had been attended by men in silk and brocade, with servants aplenty to groom them. Their clothing sparkled with precious gems, and yet she preferred the way Rolfe’s green eyes shimmered when he was about to kiss her.