Anne half wished she’d insisted upon meeting her future husband at the church rather than agree to wait at Lady Peddington’s for his carriage. Whether he picked up her and her family from Lady Peddington’s and rode with them to the church, or met them at the church, there was no turning back.

Her sister fidgeted beside her on the couch in the parlor, and her mother sat in the chair to their right, gripping a handkerchief, as they awaited the viscount’s carriage.

“You look so terribly pale,” Anne’s sister said.

Anne gave Louisa a smile. “Nerves, nothing more. Once the ceremony is over and we’re all settled into our new life, things will be just fine.”

“I know it makes no difference, but I still want to say once more that I wish you hadn’t done this,” Louisa said. “We would have found another way. That nice Mr. Allen has been courting Mama. A marriage proposal is sure to come any day.”

“Mr. Allen is a nice man,” their mother said, “but he has no money to speak of.”

“Between us three and him, we could have found a way,” Louisa insisted.

Anne smiled. The determination and hope of youth. Only a year ago, she had been full of that same optimism.

“I’ve made a good match,” Anne said. “He’s the heir to an earldom—a very wealthy earldom. We need never again worry about money.”

“Only if he gives ye enough money to help us keep Dover Hall running,” Louisa said. “Not to mention, Castle Dòmnallach.”

“Two years from now, the estates will be self-sufficient,” Anne said. She would see to that. “You and Mama need never worry about having a home. You will have time to make a good match, Louisa, and Mama can marry whomever she likes, whether or not he has the skills necessary to run the estates. We shall stay in control of our property.”

 “Dover Hall will go to your son,” Louisa said.

“Only upon my death,” Anne said. But Castle Dòmnallach will remain yours.”

At the thump of boot falls in the corridor, Anne snapped her attention toward the parlor door. Her heart began to pound.

Steady, she told herself. Mama and Louisa are here. You do not want them to see you frightened.

The boot falls came closer. Her mother’s and sister’s attentions were also fixed on the open door. Closer. He would be here any second.

Anne tore her gaze from the doorway, reached for Louisa’s hand and squeezed gently. Louisa’s head snapped in her direction.

“Remember,” Anne whispered, “this man will be your new brother. We must not make him uncomfortable.”

Louisa nodded, but worry furrowed her brow. From the corner of her eye, Anne glimpsed movement in the doorway.

“Viscount Buchanan is here to see you, my lady,” the butler announced.

Louisa’s eyes widened. Their mother started to rise. Anne, still holding her sister’s hand, pushed to her feet, pulling her sister up with her, and faced her future husband.

The butler stepped aside and Anne stared. In all her wildest dreams, she wouldn’t have guessed that the man she was betrothed to was— “You,” she whispered.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

Their mother dropped into a courtesy. Louisa curtsied, pulling Anne down into a curtsy with her.

Anne straightened and extended her hand toward him. “It is a pleasure to meet you at last, my Lord.”

Something flickered in his eyes. She realized she’d miscalculated, but didn’t know how. He approached, grasped her hand with long fingers, and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

“I cannot tell ye how pleased I am to meet you, my lady.”

He still gripped her hand. She tugged harder than she should’ve had to in order to free herself. She turned slightly. “May I present my sister, Lady Louisa, and my mother, the dowager viscountess.”

The viscount bowed over both their hands, then said, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“It was very kind of you to fetch us yourself, my lord,” her mother said.

He gave her a polite smile. “It is my pleasure, and, please, ma’am, call me Kennedy.”

Her mother angled her head in acquiescence and started to reply, when Dorothy and Fiona entered the room. They stopped short as if in surprise, and Dorothy’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Oh my,” Dorothy exclaimed. “We didn’t realize this room was in use. Forgive the intrusion.”

They realized it quite well, Anne wagered. The girls were not typically in this part of the house at this time of day. But all the better.

Anne smiled. “It’s no intrusion, Dorothy. Ladies, may I introduce Viscount Buchanan. My lord, this is Miss Williams and Miss Evans.”

The girls curtsied and the viscount gave a slight bow.

“How wonderful to finally meet you, my lord,” Linda said. “We didn’t have the chance to meet you when you attended Lady Peddington’s ball last week.”

Anne stiffened. The little vipers thought they would expose her to her mother.

“Which ball would that be again?” the viscount said.

“Lady Peddington’s ball, last Saturday evening,” Dorothy said.

The viscount frowned as if in thought. “Ah, yes, I believe I did drop by, but arrived later than intended, during Lady Peddington’s Midnight Ball.”

Anne stared. Was he giving them a set down for trying to embarrass her?

The girl’s faces turned ashen.

“Sir, you must be mistaken,” Linda quickly said. “We did not attend the Midnight Ball.”

His frown deepened. “Then perhaps it wasn’t me you saw.” He faced Anne and her family. “Forgive me, but we should leave if we are to reach the church on time.” His gaze shifted to Anne. “Have you any trunks, my lady?”

“Nothing to take with us to the church, sir,” she replied.

“And you are dressed for the ceremony?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Aye, sir. The lace is the finest in all of Scotland and the pink satin,” she smiled, “pink is a favorite of mine.”

“It is a stunning color on you,” he said. “Shall we go?”

They nodded and he stood aside as they walked past Dorothy and Linda and proceeded him out of the room. He caught up to Anne and her heart thundered with the fear that he would mention their meeting at Lady Peddington’s. He didn’t, however, and he helped them into the carriage, and they started forward with a creak of the carriage wheels. Anne was all too aware of the heat from his body. He remained a perfect gentleman, but made no effort to sit far away from her on their side of the carriage. Was he was taunting her? Was he one of those men who needed a woman to stay close at his side?

“Do you live in Edinburgh?”

Anne started at the sound of Louisa’s voice. To her surprise, the viscount smiled gently at Louisa. “A great deal of the time, aye. We have a castle in Inverness, which I used to visit every year.”

“Not anymore?” she asked.

“Not as much as I’d like,” he said. “Perhaps you will like to visit.”

Louisa smiled. “Indeed, sir, I would.”

He looked at Anne and her face heated. “Do you like Inverness, my lady?”

“I have never been.”

“It’s quite beautiful.”

Had that been a wistful note in his voice?

“You and your family are welcome to spend as much time there as you like.”

Anne’s stomach knotted. Was he going to send them away? Mr. Spector said otherwise, but…

They reached the church and entered the foyer. Anne glimpsed only four people sitting in the pews before a young woman ushered her mother and sister into the chapel, leaving Anne alone in the foyer with the viscount.

“Very clever,” he said in a low voice once they were out of earshot.

He didn’t have to explain, she knew exactly what he meant. “I had no idea you were the man I met at Lady Peddington’s ball,” she said.

He gave a mirthless laugh. “The coincidence is too much of a, well, coincidence. I do no’ believe you.”

She let out a frustrated breath. “How could I possibly have arranged this? Your father contacted me. I never met him.”

Doubt flickered in his eyes. “Do you know Sir Stirling James?” he demanded.

She frowned. “Who?”

“Never mind,” he said. “I supposed it doesn’t matter.”

His tone said it did matter. The murmur of voices echoed back to them from the chapel. “When I saw you at the ball, you did not appear to be a man desperate to marry,” she said.

“How does a man act who is desperate to marry?” he asked. “Any desire to marry had little to do with me being at that ball.”

She snorted again. “That, I believe.”

He gave her a critical look. “Your actions were not those of a woman interested in marriage.”

“You’re basing that on vicious gossip.”

“Hardly. I am basing that on the fact that you negotiated with me for a night in your bed.”

She lifted her brows. “I thought it was a night in your bed.”

His mouth twitched in what she realized was amusement, but the mood vanished almost as quickly as it came. “Let me be very clear on one important point. You will take no lovers until I have an heir and a spare.”

Fury whipped through her. “I assume the same rule does not apply to you?”

A cool smile spread across his face. “A man’s by blows will never be mistaken for his heirs.”

“Then the vows we are about to take mean nothing to you.”

“On the contrary, they mean a great deal to me. You and our children will have my protection and my support.”

“But not your loyalty,” she retorted.

“Make no mistake, my lady, real loyalty takes place outside the bedroom.”

* * *

The priest entered the foyer, and Kennedy turned to face him.

“If you are ready, my lord, my lady,” he said.

Kennedy nodded and the priest returned to the chapel.

Kennedy looked at his wife-to-be. “Shall we? He winged his arm toward her.

She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, then he led her into the sanctuary and up to the altar. Only half a dozen people sat in the pews, including Anne’s sister and mother. His father’s solicitor sat beside Jacqueline in the left front pew. Kennedy wouldn’t be surprised to find her outside their bed chambers with her ear pressed against the door, so that she could confirm the consummation of the marriage. One other man sat in the third pew. Sir Stirling James. Stirling gave him an almost imperceptible nod as they passed. After the ceremony, Kennedy would speak with him. He wanted to know how Stirling knew of Anne—and got word to his father about her existence.

They reached the altar. Anne pulled her hand free and turned to face him.

Christ, he was about to marry a woman who only last week had bartered with him for her charms. She was lovely, there was no doubt about that, but he would have his father’s head for this.

Kennedy weaved through the ceremony like a man in a dream. When the priest asked for the rings, Kennedy slipped onto her finger the diamond and ruby ring that had been his mother’s. She put on his finger a simple gold band. That, he was surprised to admit, suited him well. The priest pronounced them man and wife and bade Kennedy kiss his wife. He slipped an arm around her slim waist and pulled her closer than intended. She clasped his shoulders and he glimpsed her closed eyes in the instant before his mouth touched hers.

As he knew they would be, her full lips were soft and warm. The embrace lasted by three heartbeats. She pulled back before he did, and the priest led them to the registry. They signed, but Kennedy felt no relief despite the fact he’d taken the first step toward fulfilling his father’s demands. Unless his search for his sister succeeded, at least three months of hell lay before him, and that was only if he was able to impregnate his wife right away. What would he do if it turned out she was barren, or worse, he was unable to sire a child?

He couldn’t help a rueful mental laugh. All these years, he’d been careful not to father a by-blow. If he had been careless—or lucky, depending on how one viewed the matter—

and had sired a bastard, at least he would know he was able to father a child.

Suddenly, his wife was being hugged by her mother and sister. He was forced to allow Jacqueline to kiss his cheek, and she did the same to Anne, her sister and mother. Mr. Spector shook hands with Kennedy. Kennedy looked back at the pews, but Sir Stirling was gone.

 

Forty-five minutes later, they sat at the dining table at his townhouse, partaking of the wedding feast. Kennedy would have gladly sent Jacqueline home, but here she sat to his left, while his wife sat to his right. He wasn’t likely to forget this day for the rest of his life.

“Will you visit us at Dover Hall, my lord?” Lady Louisa asked him.

He looked up from his plate and smiled at her. “I beg you, call me Kennedy. We are family now, I am your brother.”

She beamed. “Then ye must call me Louisa.”

He nodded. “Thank you, Louisa. As to your question, we will plan a time to visit Dover Hall. For the moment, I have business that keeps me in Edinburgh. Of course, you and your mother are welcome to stay with us as long as you like.”

“That is most kind of you,” the dowager viscountess said. “Unfortunately, we must return home tomorrow.” She smiled. “Like you, business beckons.”

He wondered what business the dowager viscountess might have, but he would save that question for another day. “Of course, I understand.”

“Perhaps we will be fortunate enough for your business to conclude in the not-too-distant future, so that you might come visit us,” she said.

Kennedy had no intention of going anywhere until his son was born. But he smiled and said, “Perhaps.”

“Anne can always come and visit us, as well,” Louisa said.

Kennedy had no intention of allowing her to go anywhere until they had a son, but, again, he said, “Perhaps, though I may want to keep her to myself for just a little while.”

That comment earned him a startled look from his wife. He didn’t know her well—in truth, he didn’t know her at all—but he had a suspicion that silence wasn’t her normal state, and he wondered if he should be worried.

“Do you spend much time in Edinburgh, my lady?” Jacqueline asked the dowager viscountess.

“Nae, the running of Dover Hall demands most of my time.”

Kennedy forked pheasant into this mouth. Was this the business she spoke of? The running of an estate could monopolize one’s time.

“Surely you will spend more time here now that Anne and Kennedy are married. Are you certain you cannot stay another two days? We are planning a ball in their honor tomorrow evening.”

Kennedy snapped his gaze onto Jacqueline. “I know nothing of this.”

“Your father wanted it to be a surprise, and we had to be sure the preparations were in order before we said anything. I’m pleased to say that we have sent out two hundred invitations.”

Kennedy thinned his lips. “It didn’t occur to my father that we might have plans?”

She gave a gentle smile, a mother’s smile, that would have fooled anyone except him. “Your father is not long for this world, Kennedy. Would you deny him something so simple?”

“It seems I cannot deny him anything.”

Anne gave him a startled look and Kennedy realized she hadn’t spoken a single word the entire breakfast.

Jacqueline laid a hand on his arm. “Kennedy, your father wanted me to tell you that he will be sending a wedding gift.”

Anne’s gaze flicked to Jacqueline’s hand on his arm. Kennedy cursed inwardly. He had intended to keep his life separate from his marriage. Jacqueline, however, clearly had other ideas.