When the Laird Returns by Karen Ranney

Author:Karen Ranney [Karen Ranney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780380813018
Google: WhFuiFwL9BwC
Amazon: B000PDZFYS
Goodreads: 10927069
Publisher: Avon
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

For the second time in her life, Iseabal found herself about to be married.

Her wedding dress had again been pressed upon her by Patricia, but this gold-encrusted garment was much more modest than the first gown Patricia had offered her.

“I’m sure that Moira looked as lovely at her wedding as you, my dear,” Patricia said from her chair beside the window in Iseabal’s room. She again commanded the maids, tapping her cane from time to time in approval or demand. She didn’t look like an autocrat, Iseabal thought with a smile, dressed as she was in a gown of pale lavender adorned with trailing sleeves and a neckline of lace.

Nodding in approval as the maid adjusted the high collar of the garment, Patricia smiled. “The dress has held up well after all these years.”

That Alisdair had accepted the title was another surprise to assimilate, along with the fact of this marriage. But when Fate holds out a blessing, only a fool declines. She was no fool, Iseabal thought.

She’d lived through the past week in a benumbed fog, remembering first Alisdair’s kiss and then the look in his eyes, tender and gently amused.

He’d been gone for days, and except for this moment, attired in Patricia’s wedding gown, Iseabal might have thought this a dream, a fanciful notion that she had wanted desperately enough to make it seem real.

She stood looking at herself in the pier glass once again, but the image reflected back to her was not shameful. The woman who stared at her did so with flushed cheeks, full lips, and green eyes wide with wonder. Her hair was left straight around her shoulders, in a maiden’s pose. She looked different, Iseabal thought, almost beautiful. Happiness was a greater cosmetic than any paint.

In two weeks she had gone from dreading her marriage to wishing fervently for it to continue. Yet at the moment, she was filled with both anticipation and a strange sort of fear. She was about to become a wife, in truth.

This time the bridegroom was not a stranger, but a man she’d come to respect and admire. His appearance made her tremble; his touch incited other, stranger feelings, as if her body melted inside. He annoyed her occasionally, amused her at times, and endlessly occupied her thoughts.

Iseabal turned from the mirror to meet Patricia’s smiling face. The older woman slowly stood, surveying Iseabal carefully.

“I never had a daughter, my dear,” she said softly. “But if I had one, I could not wish for her to be more lovely than you. You are quite the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

A mist of tears blurred Iseabal’s vision. She blinked them away, impulsively reaching out to hug the Countess of Sherbourne.

A few minutes later Iseabal followed Patricia through the hallway, down the sweeping stairs, and into another long corridor leading to the private chapel. Her feet felt numb, her knees almost weak. Twice she had to stop, forcing herself to take a deep breath. Not because the dress was too tight or because she was afraid.

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