True Heart (34 page)

Virginia expected her father to call her into the study. Instead, he declared, “Do you truly want this half Englishman for your husband?”

“Yes, Papa. I love him well.”

“Then we are twice blessed.” He picked her up. “Worry not, lass, about those lost memories. You're back home and that's all that matters.”

They adjourned to the nursery, where Sarah's daughter Isobel took her first wobbly steps—into the arms of a gloating Lachian.

*  *  *

A special license was acquired, and on Saturday next, Virginia and Cameron fulfilled their destiny. As a private wedding gift, Cameron relayed a message to Virginia. Anthony MacGowan was dead.

“How? When?”

It served no purpose to tell her of her father's involvement. So he told a lie he thought would satisfy her. “Some time ago. His death was slow and painful.”

“Good.”

When they exited the Napier carriage and approached the dock to begin their honeymoon, Virginia noticed a canvas draped over the side of Cameron's ship. MacAdoo stood near the bow, and the crew stood at attention.

“What's that?”

“You'll see.”

Holding her hand, he whistled to MacAdoo, who saluted, then tossed off the mysterious canvas. Cameron had again changed the name of his ship. Now it was called
True Heart.

“For you,” he said. “My dearest love.”

Then he swept her into his arms and carried her aboard. As they waved good-bye to her family, Cameron said, “Where shall we go first?”

Feeling reckless and joyful, she said, “The crow's nest?”

Laughing, he held her close, and as they sailed away from Scotland, Virginia remembered the vow he'd spoken to her during their wedding.

Gazing up at him, love swelling inside her, she said, ‘Tomorrow is no dream, but our destiny.”

“Aye, True Heart.”

Rosshaven Castle

Scottish Highlands

Harvest, 1793

Harvest drummers and pipers heralded the return of the haywagons. Cameron scooted to the edge of the loft and peered through a knothole in the wall boards of the stable.

“Who's riding in the first wagon?”

Cameron gazed back at Virginia, who languished on the pallet. They'd spent the afternoon loving, napping, and enjoying being back in Scotland again.

For three years, they'd sailed the
True Heart
around the world. Only when Virginia had conceived had they returned to Scotland. But they hadn't gone to Cunningham Gardens in Glasgow, nor had they visited Cameron's parents. They'd come to Rosshaven Castle in Tain, principal residence of the ducal MacKenzies, the place where Cameron and Virginia had grown up together.

Now that the harvest was over, the celebration of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the duke and duchess of Ross would begin. With the exception of Cameron and Virginia, all of the MacKenzies, their spouses, and children had spent the day in the fields.

Only one member of the extended family was not here.

“Cameron Cunningham! Tell me who won.”

The annual harvest race was over. In order of their finish, the wagons returned to Rosshaven.

Expecting her to gloat, Cameron said, “Edward Napier and Notch.”

“I knew it. He never boasts. When he said his machine could harvest as much wheat as three men, you should have believed him. You owe me fifty pounds.”

She rolled over and, on stiff arms, crawled toward Cameron, her breasts swaying in a hypnotic rhythm. Larger since the birth of their daughter, Virginia's womanly attributes never failed to rouse him. But then, with a saucy wink or a spicy rejoinder, she could as easily stir his desire.

“Where's Agnes?” she asked.

Peering through the opening, Cameron studied the line of approaching wagons. “Astride the lead horse pulling Napier's wagon, and Jamie's up before her. Hannah and little Juliet are perched atop the cargo.”

“The next wagon?”

“Your father and Lily's husband, Sutherland.”

“Third?”

“Lottie's husband, David, and Christopher Napier.”

“Where's Lottie?”

Cameron chuckled. For her part in the celebration, Lottie had made dresses for all of the women. Except that each was a different color, the cotton dresses, designed for a day of frolicking in the field, were alike. The fabric of Virginia's gown was dyed a leafy green, and the contrasting apron was a darker hue. Lottie wore apple red with a crimson apron. “She's in that jaunty trap. Lily, Cora, Rowena, and Sarah are on horseback, carrying torches to light the way.”

“Where's Mary?”

Cameron hesitated. Robert Spencer, the earl of Wiltshire, had met his death beneath the hooves of the leading pack at Avon Downs. Mary had buried him over a year ago. She had yet to forgive him. But neither had she forgiven herself for not giving him a son. Hamish Dundas, heir apparent to the constable of Scotland, was doing his considerable best to get Mary out of her mourning gown. Odds were running three to one that he'd succeed before Hogmanay next.

“Where?” Virginia repeated.

“In a cart with Hamish.”

“Good.” Content to have him narrate the order of finish, Virginia again lay on her back. “Who's next?”

“Kenneth and his rowdy nephews. Michael and MacAdoo are behind them.”

Raising her arms over her head, Virginia stretched, effectively lifting her nipples into view. “MacAdoo should be playing the pipes.”

“You should stop teasing me.” Cameron shifted to ease the swelling in his loins. He winced at the movement.

“What's amiss?”

Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes. “I shouldn't want you again so soon.”

All saucy female, she writhed. “Shall I show you the folly in that train of thought?”

He laughed.

She lifted her brows in warning and challenge. But the wagons had entered the yard. The din of dozens of familiar voices blended with the stamping of hooves and the rattling of harnesses.

Confident that they'd soon have company, Cameron folded his arms.

“I could change your mind,” she threatened.

He smiled, taunting her. She lifted herself up and moved closer.

The stable doors opened, then closed. Footfalls sounded on the planked floor below.

Holding a finger to his mouth, Cameron whispered, “Shush,” and eased to the edge of the loft. Virginia followed.

Arm in arm, the duke and duchess of Ross strolled toward the ladder. His hair was now liberally sprinkled with gray, but Lachian MacKenzie could still hold his own with a man half his age. Juliet, serene and stately in a lavender dress and purple apron, smiled up at him. He stopped, drew her into his arms, and kissed her long and deeply.

Virginia leaned against Cameron and sighed. He had not longed for the devotion of his foster parents; he and Virginia had made their own.

When the kiss ended, the duchess said, “You didn't for a moment think I believed you asked me into the stables to show me a new horse. I've heard that before.”

Lachian reached for the ladder. “What I have in mind is infinitely more entertaining than a foal.”

Cameron and Virginia giggled, and just as her parents looked up, a storm of hay rained down on them.

Sputtering, Lachian declared, “You're time's up, Cunningham.”

He looked at Virginia and spoke a solemn truth, “Nay, 'tis just beginning.”

Books by Arnette Lamb

Highland Rogue

The Betrothal

Border Lord

Border Bride

Chieftain

Maiden of Inverness

A Holiday of Love

Betrayed

Beguiled

True Heart

Published by POCKET BOOKS

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An
Original
Publication of POCKET BOOKS

A Pocket Star Book published by

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 1997 by Arnette Lamb

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 1-4391-5462-7 ISBN: 978-1-4391-5462-5 ISBN: 978-1-5011-1607-0 (eBook)

POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.