In regard to the ceremony and the deflowering of his bride, Fabian’s only thoughts were of getting the deed done before Vane arrived. But then he reminded himself that there wouldn’t be a deflowering as he wasn’t the first man to take the scandalous lady to his bed. His chest grew hot, and little lights flashed before his eyes. Curse Vane to the Devil. Curse the blighter who took advantage of an innocent woman. Curse him for using and discarding such a precious treasure.
“I’d not planned on doing anything to mark the occasion.” After all, she didn’t want to marry him. “I’m sure the lady wishes to get the matter over with quickly and with the minimal of fuss.” While taking Lillian to his bed was a priority, he wanted to do his utmost to ensure she enjoyed the experience. He had no intention of leading a life of celibacy. And he would not be unfaithful to his wife.
“Mark my words, you’d best make an effort to do something special else it will come back to haunt you for the rest of your days.”
Fabian snorted. “Ordinarily, that responsibility would fall to her family. As the person who clearly knows the workings of a woman’s mind, I shall give you the task of ensuring the lady is happy.”
Mackenzie raised his chin. “It would be my pleasure to see that the day goes smoothly. I trust the lass has a dress.”
Damn. “Only the one she’s wearing.”
Mackenzie threw his hands in the air. “Lord of all the fairies, you did not think the matter through at all.” He huffed and sighed, tugged his beard and shaped the wiry hair into a point. “My mother used to say a pretty face suits a dish-cloth, but I doubt she meant on a lass’ wedding day. You should be thankful she’s related to Trevane for she has grit and courage aplenty.”
“The lady has always possessed a fighting spirit.” In their youth, she’d climbed to the highest bough of a tree just to prove a point, had done her utmost to suppress her fear when she struggled to get down. “And she’ll need one to marry me.”
“Happen it will take a lot to unsettle the lass. Och, I’ll gather a few of the women together and see what we can do about finding her something decent to wear. Let’s hope and pray our mysterious thief hasn’t stolen every needle and thread.”
“Lady Lillian has a natural beauty.” One glance at her hazel eyes and a man would crawl on hands and knees to do her bidding. “I’m certain she’ll look presentable in whatever she wears.”
“Presentable?” Mackenzie shook his head and tutted. “Whatever you do, don’t say that to her. A Highland lass would knock you on your backside and banish you to the barn.”
Mackenzie was so caught up in the
romantic notion of it all he’d forgotten Fabian’s was to be a marriage of convenience.
“Then I best heed your wise words. The lady asked for pistols and a rapier as wedding gifts.”
Mackenzie’s eyes widened, and he laughed so hard his shoulders shook. “You’ve got your hands full there, make no mistake. Wait until the wee bairns come along, you’ll not have a minute’s peace.”
“Bairns?” A man needed to bed his wife to sire offspring. Fabian had more chance of waking to find the point of a blade pricking his throat. “Hold that thought. The lady will need time to grow accustomed to her new situation.”
“From what I can tell she’s a strong-minded woman who’s learnt to take things in her stride. I imagine she’ll enjoy being mistress of Raven Island, and wife to the bravest man ever to sail the seas.”
“Brave? After the scrapes we’ve been in, some would use the term foolish.”
Mackenzie raised his tankard. “We’ve not lost a man yet.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
Doyle hadn’t tumbled overboard. He’d not fallen off the topsail or been swept off the deck by a thirty-foot wave. But he was lost all the same: swallowed by greed.
“Have you heard from Doyle?” Fabian knew the answer. Mackenzie would have told him had the disloyal rogue made contact.
Mackenzie’s expression darkened. “Not since the day he tried to murder his own shipmates. He knows better than to come begging and pleading to me.”
“I thought he might send for Mary at the very least.” Doyle’s wife lived in a cottage near the dock. Despite Fabian’s reassurance that she knew nothing of Doyle’s deceit, the men were nervous around her. But Fabian refused to turn her out.
“The man thinks only of himself. Most would say she’s better off without him.”
Fabian downed a mouthful of ale while he contemplated Mackenzie’s comment. “Has Mary approached Mrs Bell for provisions since Doyle’s disappearance? Perhaps she’s afraid to see the men after what happened. Perhaps someone in the castle is stealing food and delivering it to her.”
“Mary’s not a thief. I can vouch for that.” Mackenzie frowned and drew his hand down his beard. “But I’ll visit her after the wedding, see how she’s faring and ask if she’s heard from that traitorous bastard.”
The mere mention of his wedding sent Fabian’s blood racing through his veins. “I suppose I should visit Lillian in her chamber and tell her we’re to marry in the morning.”
“Och, you cannot do that. A man cannot see his bride the night before the nuptials.”
Fabian suppressed a chuckle. “How else am I to inform her of the news?”