Page 44 of A Rogue in Twilight
“I am a weaver too. This is my work.” She lifted a corner of the plaid draped around her shoulders. “But weaving is no occupation for a viscountess, if I were to marry you.”
“I would never discourage you from doing what you want. My grandmother did as she pleased, chasing fairy legends and writing stories. If she had set her mind on weaving, I assure you the walls of this place would be draped in plaid. She never let convention deter her, even after she died,” he added.
“She also spent a good part of the year in Edinburgh. I will not abandon this place to go south for tea parties and such. A husband is not expected to give up his work, but a wife takes on other duties. Marriage, a household, children.”
“Marry me, decide your duties, and spend as much time here as you like.”
Elspeth busied herself ruffling Osgar’s silky ears. “Away from my husband? You would not want that.”
“We can easily keep two homes, Elspeth,” he said quietly.
“Why are you so determined? Most men caught in a compromise would be glad to be free of it.”
He picked up Nellie the terrier and scrubbed his fingers under her jaw. “You require a husband for honor. And I require a wife.”
“Require?” That felt like a blow. “I cannot marry a man who values obligation above valuing his wife.”
“I did not mean that, my dear lass,” he murmured.
“I do not know what to do,” she burst out. She swept past him and went through the kitchen toward the stairs, heart beating hard. Some raw need urged her to turn back and ask what this was truly all about for him. But she ran on.
Her stubbornness was wavering. She wanted to marry him. Even if he did not feel the same, his offer was consistent. Perhaps he was wavering too.
But if she did waver, if she did marry, it would have to be for love.
Every part of her knew she had begun to love him, and she hoped he cared for her. The fervor that had burned between them last night seemed to prove it, and yet—something else stood between them, she thought.
Then she remembered Charlotte Sinclair, who had seemed so possessive of his attentions in Edinburgh. What if he had planned to marry Miss Sinclair, but now felt obliged to a Highland girl in this awkward situation?
“Damnation,” he said behind her.
Elspeth whirled, so lost in thought that she had not heard him in the hallway. “What is it?”
“I forgot the eggs.” He took his hand from his pocket, eggshells in his palm, clear and golden slime coating his fingers.
She laughed, part giggle and part sob in relief and surprise. James laughed sheepishly, egg dripping on his coat, his boots, and the floor. The terriers began to lick at the floor and his shoes.
“I still have these.” He produced two eggs from the other pocket. “Miss MacArthur, would you care to share a very small breakfast?”
With a sigh, she felt herself surrender. “That would be lovely.”
Seeing his crooked half-grin, his damp brown hair and sky-blue eyes, the wide shoulders and lean build, she remembered how good those arms, those lips felt. She melted, yearning to run to him. Yet she stayed where she stood.
Truth be told, she did not want to leave Struan House and its laird now, if ever. The pull she felt was strong, and each moment added more to it.
He tapped his walking stick in the hallway as if it was an accessory, not a necessity, and held out a hand to usher her toward the kitchen stairs. He was pragmatic and yet passionate, skeptical yet willing to understand. He was neat in his appearance, yet his study was in disarray.
And here he stood with rain dripping from his fine coat, egg smeared on his hands, one terrier licking his boot and another pawing at him in adoration. He laughed and her heart turned in delight.
“Can you cook eggs, Lord Struan?”
“Actually, no. I was rather hoping you knew. Though I will try if you need to rest your foot.”
He would do that for her, cook eggs while she rested. It felt like a peace offering of sorts. Hope bloomed in her heart again.
But she feared that he might regret his proposal if he knew that she might be the daughter of a fairy, with a grandfather bound in bargain to the Fey.
For now, she just wanted more of his company before she had to leave. And she wanted a little food too. She followed him, dogs trotting beside them.
