As she focused on the horse, Angelique's tender, longing expression arrested Lachlan, for he had never seen that look in her eyes before. In that moment, he knew he would strive to give her anything she wanted.
"I have never ridden a white horse. Too visible at night," he murmured so she wouldn't suspect his intentions. He would find the owner and see if he could buy the horse, or one like it, for Angelique. Though she'd laughed at his expense last night, when he'd had ink on his face, seeing her smile and giggle had been worth it. Her face alight with amusement and happiness did bizarre things to him inside... things he did not understand or want to examine. A horse would be the perfect wedding gift for her; it would make her happy.
"As to the books," he said. "I tried to repair this where I smudged it. You see?"
The horse now disappeared from sight within the stables, she lowered her gaze to the ledger. "It is clear enough."
He explained what each row represented in the way of estate income and expenses.
"That is a lot of expensive Italian Vernage." She pointed to the figure.
"Aye, bought only three months ago and I have yet to see drop of it."
"Perhaps that wine has not yet arrived."
"It has been checked off on the inventory." He flipped through his stack of papers for the correct one. "Here." He showed her the document.
"Maybe the servants, clansmen or even Kormad's men drank it before we arrived."
"Aye. Or 'haps no one drank it because it never existed."
They analyzed the books for more than an hour and she took notes of problems they ran into. Not only were things listed as paid for which he had not found on the estate, but many of the additions were wrong.
"Surely Fingall cannot be worse at numbers and calculations than I am," Lachlan said. "Should be his specialty."
"Indeed."
He sighed. "I hate to release him from his duties. 'Tis a hereditary position. He told me the males of his line have held Am Fear Sporain for over two hundred years within the Drummagan clan."
"But he is robbing us blind," she said. "And I do not think it is simply that he is unskilled at calculations."
Lachlan nodded. "We shall question him."
"Both of us?"
"Aye."
Angelique's gaze warmed and softened upon him, as if she might actually like him for this one moment in time. The look he'd so yearned to see on her face. Arousal flowed through him like warm honey. But any move he made might drive her away or make her revert back to her old animosity. Though she hadn't last night on the dark stair.
Watching him, she lifted a hand and tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. The simple gesture riveted him and became more sensual than it should've been. He caught her hand and briefly kissed her wrist as her hand slipped through his.
Her eyes grew round for a few seconds before she averted her gaze. He made no other movements. God, he loved her touch. His skin still tingled from the stroke of her silken fingertips. And the fragrance from her wrist—roses and woman—remained in his senses, intoxicating him.
He imagined her crawling onto his lap, kissing him deeply and yanking their clothing aside. Near attacking him. Aye, right here in the solar, he wanted to take her, gently pushing into her, inch by torturous inch. She would be small and tight. Drenched, whimpering and moaning for him. But he would go slow and make her wait. Make her beg for more, faster, deeper.
She faced him again. He did not know what she saw in his eyes, but her breath hitched and her eyes darkened. Do not look away, he wanted to tell her.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. It was almost a chaste kiss, so simple and innocent. So different from the desire rampaging through him. She closed her eyes. Hesitantly, her lips moved beneath his. He cradled her face in his hand, stroked her brow.
The tip of her tongue briefly touched his upper lip. A renewed surge of arousal shot through him. Wanting to devour her, he quelled his instinctive response which might have frightened her away. He was rewarded with another brush of her tongue. Damn, did this Frenchie know how to kiss. Her tentative movements were the most arousing he had ever experienced.
He responded in kind, but more briefly than she had. She seemed to hold her breath. Again he flicked his tongue at the underside of her upper lip, then away.
She gasped and buried her fingers in his plaid and his hair, drawing him closer. Aye, lass, take what you need. With more subtle movements, he teased her with his tongue. She accepted each kiss, and came back for more, provoking him.
A distant yell reached his ears but he didn't care. Someone whistled.
Jerking away from him, she faced the window. "Merde." She jumped up and hurried from the room. Several clansmen and servants stood outside, staring up at him with huge grins.
"Do you not ken how to give anyone privacy?" he yelled at them through the glass.
They scurried away.
"Aye, run now, you bastards." Now that they'd frightened Angelique away and ruined any chance he had of getting what he wanted most. His body was on fire with wanting her, his shaft standing stiff as a pike. "Saints!" He smashed a fist onto the desk and rose.
"Patience," he muttered, inhaling deeply. At least Angelique was starting to like and trust him a bit more. He must nurture that. Not much longer until their wedding.
So as to avoid the men in the great hall, he exited down the back stairs and strode to the stables.
"I saw you leading a white horse earlier. Whose is it?" Lachlan asked the young groomsman.
"The Lady Robertson arrived on it, m'laird."
"Aha. I thank you."
After looking the mare over and finding her strong and healthy, Lachlan found Chief Robertson standing before the fireplace in the great hall and asked him about the animal.
The tall, stout man was dressed in the Lowland style, and sported a full beard. "My wife would have my head if I sold her favorite mare." He grinned. "But we have two more white mares if you'd like to look at them sometime."
"Indeed, I would." A horse would be a wonderful wedding gift for Angelique, even if it was a few days late.
He would make her like him or die trying.
***
Angelique stood impatiently in her chamber as the maids assisted in putting the many pieces of her wedding gown on her. Camille directed. The gown was scratchy, and a bit too large besides, requiring that portions of it be altered. After the maids had styled her hair with elaborate, coiled braids, Camille placed a wreath of wild white roses and dried white heather upon her head.
Unfortunately, Angelique was not enjoying this as much as she'd dreamed she would at fifteen. She had slept little last night as she'd overseen the final preparations for both the wedding and the feast. Even when she had gone to bed, nerves had kept her awake. Today the celebration had started early with breakfast for all the guests, then the dancing had commenced.
She was relieved in some ways that she and Lachlan had already married, otherwise she'd be far more nervous. But of course, she dreaded tonight when she'd have to deliver on her promise to sleep with him. Her breathing seized and she grew a bit lightheaded. Put it from your mind and get through the day first.
Minutes later, Heckie escorted her down the front steps and across the cobbled bailey. She was glad for his sturdy arm supporting her for her knees wobbled. I must be strong. She thought of the diamond pendant hidden beneath the dress, dangling between her breasts. This gift from her mother would give her strength. She imagined Maman, in her angelic form, gazing down and smiling. A slight calmness enveloped her.