As the glittering necklace settled across what already seemed a shocking expanse of bare bosom, Emily swallowed to moisten a dry mouth. In the mirror, Hamish appeared large and dominating behind her. As he fiddled with the clasp, his face w
as almost stern.
"You’re…you’re taking a long time over that," she said unsteadily, cursing diamonds, and overgenerous husbands, and her own unfortunate impulses.
"The clasp is tricky." His fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her nape. The nipples that had tightened under his touch last night tightened once more into aching longing. Heat rushed into her cheeks. "Ah, that’s it."
He seemed to touch her for an eternity, although reason told her it was only a few seconds. What a ninnyhammer she was to feel regret when he stepped back to survey her in the mirror.
"Lovely. Nobody tonight will question why I married you, my lady. You’re incandescent."
Hamish had complimented her before, had even called her pretty a couple of times. But the blatant admiration in his eyes as he studied her set her lunatic heart leaping around like a frog in a jar.
"Th-thank you," she stammered.
Hamish smiled, which only encouraged her heart’s ridiculous antics. He held out his hand. "Shall we go?"
"Yes," she said, so eager to escape this bedroom that even the prospect of meeting a tribe of unknown Scots seemed a reprieve.
Chapter 13
Hamish told himself that so far things at his mother’s house progressed pretty damn well. As he’d expected, Emily had made a good impression. She had a knack for making friends. In fact, the only person she seemed to have a prickly relationship with was that fine fellow Hamish Douglas.
They’d made it through dinner, and now everyone gathered in the elegant drawing room. Lord Liverpool had once said more legislation was formulated in this room than in the Houses of Parliament.
He and Emily stood in one corner talking to his youngest sister Elspeth and her husband Brody. Fergus and Marina were nearer to the fire, bantering with each other. Their passion had always held a quicksilver, volatile quality. Diarmid was laughing at the sparkling repartee, his arm loose around Fiona’s waist. They shared a secret smile, as Fergus swept Marina up for a quick kiss.
Hamish hated to admit it, but right now he was so jealous of his friends, he could spit. All the couples in this room enjoyed happy marriages. All the couples except one. He and his wife were as poorly matched as crab soup and chocolate sauce.
"Hamish?" Emily asked tentatively.
She stood at his side, with her hand tucked into his elbow. All night, they’d done their best to give an impression of ease in each other’s company. One glimpse of his friends and how natural they were with one another told him he and his new bride failed to convince.
"Yes, my dear?" he said, his lips having trouble framing the endearment.
Not because she wasn’t dear – while they had their difficulties, he’d never mistake Emily’s quality – but because he knew she hated to hear it. Just as she must hate the falsehood of this evening. After the wedding, she’d looked ready to snap into pieces with the strain of pretending she was happy. Tonight was even worse, because the gathering was smaller and everyone knew Hamish too well.
Despite everything, pride blossomed in his chest as he looked at Emily. She was a wife to do any man credit. The moment he saw her, elegant and alluring in that deep green dress, he’d been dazzled. So dazzled in fact that he’d had trouble controlling his usually deft fingers when he fastened the diamond necklace around her graceful neck.
"You look like you’re in another world," she said.
"I’m sorry. I was thinking what a lucky man I am."
Emily’s smile froze. Brody and Elspeth missed the remark’s shoddy ring and beamed with unfettered approval.
"Now, that’s braw," Brody said. "I just hope you’re half as happy as Elspeth and I are. Will we see ye in Scotland soon? Och, ye will want to show Glen Lyon to your bonny wife, I’m sure."
The glance that Elspeth sent Brody expressed fond impatience. "Darling, you know Emily’s father is unwell. That’s why there was no wedding trip."
"We’re staying in London for the moment," Hamish said. "Perhaps we’ll visit Glen Lyon next year."
"Have you ever been to Scotland, Emily?" Elspeth asked.
"Not yet. Papa gave a lecture in Newcastle a few years ago, and I went with him. That’s as far north as I’ve managed to get."
"You have a treat ahead of you. Glen Lyon is glorious. Make Hamish take you in the spring. No, the summer, when the days are clear and warm."
Hamish snorted with amusement. "This is Glen Lyon you’re talking about, sis? Where it rains two days out of three, and on the third day, the wind is blustery enough to blow a man to Ireland?"