Raven McAllan - The Scottish Lord’s Secret Bride

‘As you did,’ Fraser said. ‘Therefore?’

‘Why yes…’

He winked and she shook her head—and her finger—at him. ‘Oh no, My Lord Fraser, not me.’

Fraser pulled her down a little and tightened his arms around her so her head was scant inches away from his chest. ‘Why not?’

‘We would not suit.’ Her voice was muffled as she spoke into his shirt. ‘I am too set in my ways.’

He wondered why she was so definite. In one way they were very suitable, both their bodies demonstrated that. His cock was painfully hard and pulsed against its confines. Her nipples stood out and demanded attention. ‘You think so?’ he asked mildly. Dare he ask why, if that were the case, her breathing was uneven and her skin sheened with arousal?

‘I know so, now change the subject,’ Morven said in a tone that indicated the subject was closed as far as she was concerned.

He’d allow her to think that for the moment. ‘As you wish, love.’

Morven glowered at him and he hid his smile. She’d get used to it, eventually. He hoped. He had no intention of changing tack now.

‘So.’ She tapped her lips and stared at him intently. ‘Tell me when you intend to go to Stirling.’

Fraser sighed. Truly Morven was like a terrier with a rat. Although in the circumstances, he supposed it was reasonable. It was her life as well as his they were trying to sort out. ‘Tomorrow. I’ll set off before breakfast, because it is a good three hours’ ride each way.’ Although it didn’t seem as important to him now. He was determined they would be wed, in church with everyone who wanted to be there around them. ‘Then of course I need to find the minister I seek.’

Morven nodded her understanding. ‘I’m coming with you.’

‘And how do you propose to do that? I’ll be away all day.’ He admired her intention, after all it was as much about Morven as him, but he didn’t think she would find a way of achieving her goal.

‘I don’t know yet but I will discover a way,’ she said stubbornly.

He really didn’t think she had a chance, but it was Murren who unwittingly helped. As they all sat around the dinner table, before the ladies left Fraser to his whisky—they didn’t pass port in Kintrain unless they had gentlemen visitors who were sticklers for etiquette or strangely didn’t like whisky—Lady Napier coughed delicately. ‘I thought tomorrow Fraser that you wouldn’t mind showing Murren around the estate. There are some pretty rides.’

Fraser cleared his throat, but before he had time to formulate his thoughts Murren rushed into speech. ‘Oh no, please, you’re too kind but no more riding, I beg of you. In fact I would like to spend the day doing nothing, alone. I’m tired, my headaches and I can think of nothing worse than jolting around. I am afraid the journey took more out of me than I thought possible.’

Fraser didn’t think she looked that fatigued, but then he didn’t know her strengths and weaknesses. He bowed. ‘Another time perhaps?’

‘Thank you, yes, as long as the horse isn’t too strong or the path too bumpy for a carriage or… Oh I’m such a weakling.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘Although, I wonder, my lord, do you think you could take Morven instead? There will be plenty of time for me to see around when I am more likely to be alert.’

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