Rules For A Proper Governess (MacKenzies & McBrides #7)(82)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

It was March, the Highlands just showing the light green of spring. Bertie loved Sinclair’s house the moment she saw it. A large three-story stone structure, it had been built in the late eighteenth century, as Kilmorgan had been, but it was about one tenth Kilmorgan’s size, which was fine with Bertie. The house was plenty big to her, and she didn’t want to rattle around and not be close to Sinclair or the children. The walls were plain stone with tall windows and red-painted shutters, dormer windows peeking out from the slate roof.

The house sat on the banks of a pale blue loch, with green hills rising around it. Farms filled the valley around the village, as did pastures full of sheep. Fat cows with long hair falling over their faces wandered about, even into the streets of the village and the front door of Sinclair’s house. Ospreys soared across the loch, and bubbles did indeed boil in the middle of the water. Bertie and Andrew would have to watch for their very own monster.

The wedding was held at the chapel near the village, with the McBrides—Steven and his wife Rose, who was expecting; Juliana and Elliot with Elliot’s daughter Priti and their year-old son, Patrick; and the older Patrick McBride, with his wife, Rona. The Mackenzies were in attendance, from Hart to Ian, with their wives and growing brood of children. Inspector Fellows and Lady Louisa also came, Fellows hovering protectively around Louisa and their newborn daughter, who’d come to them in February. Daniel Mackenzie, filling out more every time Bertie saw him, arrived with Ainsley and Cameron. Twenty years old now, he was full of energy and plans for his future.

The revelry began at the wedding breakfast and lasted all day and into the night. Sinclair told Bertie the festivities would go until morning.

Fiddlers and drummers came from the village to play lively Scottish tunes, and the company danced. Bertie didn’t know the dances, but Sinclair pulled her into them, teaching her as they went. Daniel also helped, his exuberance nearly knocking Bertie off her feet.

She danced with almost all the gentlemen—Elliot, Steven, even Patrick, Cameron, Mac, Daniel again. Hart never joined in, they told her, although Bertie caught him with Eleanor in the hall, the two circling around each other in their own private waltz. Ian didn’t dance either, but he watched Beth and his children take part, the look on his face one of pure love.

Bertie sat out with Ian when she was exhausted, Sinclair walking Ainsley into another circle. Ian’s gaze rested on Beth as she danced with Daniel, Beth laughing, her cheeks pink, as Danny swung her around.

“I did what you told me,” Bertie said to Ian over the music. “I stayed.”

Ian glanced at her, taking in her ivory gown, minus the veil now. Bertie thought he’d speak, but he turned back to his wife and the dancers.

“You might not remember,” Bertie went on. “You took me aside when Andrew got hurt and told me I should stay with them. It was good advice. I took it to heart.”

“I remember.” Ian’s words broke through hers.

Bertie waited, but Ian was finished. “I understand now,” Bertie said. “I know you meant that they needed me to look after them, but I need them too. It goes both ways.”

Ian glanced at her, as though he had no idea why she kept speaking to him. The matter was closed.

“I just wanted to say thanks,” Bertie said. “You made me think. I’m grateful, is all.”

“You love them.” The statement was bald, flat, brooking no argument.

Bertie’s gaze went to Sinclair, his light hair glinting in the lamplight, as blond as his sister’s. He was graceful for a large man, his kilt swaying enticingly as he danced.

“You’re right about that,” Bertie said. “I love them with all my might.”

Ian waited a long moment before he spoke again. “A few years ago, I would have asked how you knew you loved them. Now, I don’t have to.” His gaze went to Beth again, and Bertie saw his world adjust.

Bertie felt the same adjustment when she looked at Sinclair. Her world had been chaotic, sometimes frightening, but always uncertain. Sinclair was certainty, but not dullness. Never that.

Sinclair caught her eye as he spun Ainsley by the waist and joined the main circle again, and he grinned at her. It was a smile of gratitude and love, as well as one of sinful promise. They hadn’t had much time to be alone since they’d arrived, although late last night, Sinclair had entered Bertie’s bedroom and made swift and silent love to her. They’d had to be quiet, as the house around them was filled, but the heat of the encounter was still with her.

The dance ended. Ian immediately left the corner to find Beth. Sinclair led Ainsley back to her husband, who was deep in conversation with Elliot, and came for Bertie.

“There’s a Scottish tradition of the clan waiting outside the bedroom door for the groom to deflower his bride,” he said to her. “With much drinking and shouting to go with it.”

Bertie faltered. “Oh, dear.”

“I told my brothers and the clan Mackenzie they’d better not try it. So they’ll want to cheer us to our bedroom, unless we can get away before they notice.”

“Yes, let’s.” Bertie’s face burned. “Please.”

Sinclair gave her a quick kiss on the lips, which elicited a shout from the dancers. They were certainly being watched. “You go first. Make an excuse to anyone who sees you. I’ll join you. Be casual.”

“Oh, you know I’m very good at slipping away.” Bertie winked at him. “Raised to it, I was.”

Sinclair laughed. “You are so beautiful.”

Bertie warmed. “Flatterer.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Until then.”

Sinclair drifted off, allowing himself to be caught by his friends and brothers-in-law. Bertie talked and laughed with the ladies a few minutes, then excused herself to go to the necessary. She declined any company, saying she could find her way in her own house.

Once she’d left the ballroom, she ducked into a side passage and nipped up a set of stairs. The bedroom she’d share with Sinclair was on the first floor, a suite that took up one corner of the house. A lovely place with a view of the loch.

The hall was dim but the sitting room outside the bedroom was lit, as was the bedroom itself. Bertie shut the door and stood for a moment in the middle of the chamber, letting out her breath. Her body hummed—all the dancing, laughter, and tiredness catching up to her.

She was married. Mrs. Sinclair McBride. She could scarce believe it. Cat and Andrew would be her own children. A ready-made family.