Grace hugged her tightly. “You are my best friend, Crissy,” she murmured. “What am I ever going to do without you?”
“Find another lass tae look after ye,” Crissy told her, but her voice was husky and her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“It won’t be the same,” Grace lamented. “There is nobody for me but you, Crissy. Can’t you not move here and stay with me?”
Crissy shook her head. “Remember my Donald, Grace,” she said gently. “He needs me. We have been apart too long already.” Donald was Crissy’s husband, and she hated to be parted from him.
Grace suddenly felt immensely guilty. “Of course, Crissy. I am being so selfish. I’m sorry.”
“We can write tae each other,” Crissy consoled her. “An’ ye can visit as often as ye like, hen. There will always be a warm welcome for ye.”
“I know, Crissy.” Grace gave her a sad smile. “But I have nobody here. William will be leaving soon, too.”
“You will make friends,” Crissy said soothingly. “There will be many young ladies o’ quality here, an’ when ye get busy wi’ your orphanage, ye will find more friends, Grace.”
Grace nodded slowly. “I hope so, Crissy,” she said doubtfully. “I really do.”
10
Two years before…
Grace could hardly sit still as she waited for Fergus and his family to arrive. Since the news came that he was coming to see them, she had been bubbling over with excitement, and nothing could calm her down. As she rose from the breakfast table on the morning they were due to arrive, she went straight to the window and looked out over the castle walls, and on into the green hills beyond.
The road snaked around and over them, but nothing was traveling on it as of yet. Grace was boiling over with frustration and impatience as she peered into the distance.
“Grace!” Lady Patricia Gibson, her mother, said irritably. “They will not arrive any faster if you watch the road all day! Sit down and read a book or something!”
Grace gave a most unladylike grunt and flopped down in a chair, scowling. Her pure black cat, Duff, sensing her mood, came and arranged himself comfortably on her lap, and despite her feelings of irritation, Grace smiled. Duff could always calm her down.
Lady Patricia went back to her sewing, sighing. She liked Fergus and his family, but she knew that she would have to keep an eye on her daughter while they were visiting. Grace had been corresponding with Fergus for three years now and had convinced herself that she was madly in love with him. Lady Patricia was inclined to think of it more as a girlish infatuation, but at least she and Fergus liked each other, and that was a better way to start than many other young couples, who were forced together against their will.
And who knew what they would get up to when no one was around to see them? Patricia remembered herself at that age, full of curiosity and unfulfilled desire. The boys had been just as bad, if not worse than she was.
“Do you think they’ve lost their way, Ma?” Grace asked as she stroked Duff lovingly.
“The road from the coaching inn at Falburn is straight as an arrow, as you know, Grace,” her mother said patiently, “but it is twelve miles away, and carriage horses are slow, so I would not expect them till much later in the afternoon. Calm yourself, please.”
Grace huffed and settled back into her chair. Every minute seemed like an hour as she waited, her ears tuned to every tiny sound from outside the window. At last, she heard the sound of hooves and rushed downstairs to see the MacAndrew family alighting from their carriage. Fergus was first, and was helping his mother alright when he saw Grace.
As soon as their eyes met, a huge grin appeared on his face. Fergus wanted to run up to her and take her in his arms, but he had to restrain himself while the usual formalities were observed. However, when the time came to greet her, he took both her hands in his, kissed her knuckles gently and looked into her face, his gaze roving over her features, but lingering on her mouth.
“You look lovely, Grace,” he said appreciatively. “How are you?”
Grace smiled at him, a great, wide, beaming smile that lit up her whole face. “Wonderful, Fergus,” she breathed. “And it is so good to see you!”
“I have been counting the days, “ Fergus admitted, laughing. “The last few weeks have been the longest of my life!” He spent a few seconds more looking at her, before finally giving in to the impulse to throw his arms around Grace and embrace her tightly.
She felt warm and pliant in his arms, and her soft curves fitted into the hard planes of his body perfectly. She had not felt so soft and womanly the last time they met, but then she had not had the ample breasts and curving hips that she had now.
Grace had always wondered what it would be like to be in Fergus’s arms, and now she knew. It was heaven on earth. The smell of him was warm, earthy, with a slight hint of masculine sweat, not mingled with any kind of fragrance, except that of his own musk. His arms around her felt strong and protective, and Grace sighed as she leaned into him. She could have stood like that forever.
“Grace!” Lady Patricia came up to them and pulled them apart, her face furious. “Please do not embarrass your family like this!”
Reluctantly, they broke apart, but Fergus winked at Grace as she was being pulled away from him by her determined mother.
William and Robert, Fergus’s older brother, were talking with their fathers, so Grace and Fergus were left alone with her mother for a while, but fortunately, she was silent as they proceeded to the parlor. She shot Grace a warning glance as they went into the room and sat down with their glasses of wine. Lady Patricia sat beside her daughter so that Fergus was obliged to sit with his brother, facing her, but unable to touch her. Presently Fergus’s father, James MacAndrew, walked away with his son and Laird Wallace Gibson to talk about horse matters, leaving Fergus, Lady Gibson, and Lady MacAndrew to sit and chat with each other.
The two ladies, who had known each other for many years, began an animated conversation about absolutely nothing that interested Fergus and Grace. The two of them sat looking at each other in silence, wishing they could leave, but unable to find an excuse that either of the ladies would believe.