Page 64 of The Scot Beds His Wife
There’s a chance that shouldn’t be a problem,Samantha thought, curling the fingers of her hand that rested over her belly into a fist.
“So, lass, what do ye say we put our differences aside, and rewrite the ending toRomeo and Juliet?”
“You’re certainly no lovelorn Romeo, promising me the moon,” she muttered.
“Aye, and ye’re no maidenly Juliette,” he volleyed back. “Besides, it looks to me like the moon appears to have enough holes in it. And ye’d just use it for target practice, anyway.”
The smile he directed down at her summoned an unbidden answer from her own lips.
“I just…can’timagine myself as a countess.” She chuckled.
“Me neither, bonny, and willnathatbe half the fun?” When his eyes sparkled just so, and his lips quirked in that way that caused his dimple to appear, Samantha thought it made him look very young and devastatingly handsome.
How was she supposed to think straight? This wasn’t fair.
“What—what does a countess even do?” she wondered aloud.
“Whatever she likes, so long as she breeds the next generation of nobility,” he answered with a passionless nonchalance that drew her brows into a grimace.
“That can’t be,” she argued. “Isn’t a wife beholden to her husband? Doesn’t she have to obey him? Where would she get the money to do what she likes, if everything sheowns goes to him? I don’t think England and America are very different in that regard.”
“Well… nay,” he admitted. “But in noble marriages, it is standard practice for the woman to have a certain allowance settled upon her, usually provided by a dowry.”
“But… I have no dowry.”
“Aye, but I’m no pauper, and I plan to vastly improve my fortune with the help of Erradale, which is sort of the same thing, is it not? If ye were to marry me, bonny, ye’d have your own annuity. Above that, once ye provided an heir, it is custom that a large sum is bestowed upon ye, as well. Ye could do with it what ye like. Travel the world, shop, rent yer own residency if Inverthorne isna to yer liking.” His features dropped, suddenly very solemn. “Ye’d have freedom, lass, once yer duty was done. And a lifetime of protection once the vows were spoken.”
Suddenly breathing as though she’d run a long way, Samantha squeezed her eyes shut once again, not wanting the otherworldly sight of him to hold sway over her decision. She’d been staring at him with wide, unbelieving eyes for so long, the details of his face followed her into the darkness behind her lids, lingering in every possible color of shadow.
Was she truly considering this? This madness, this lunacy?
Not only was she considering it… there was really only one impediment to her acceptance.
Alison. The real Alison Ross. She’d said in her letter that Samantha could remain as long as she liked at Erradale. That she planned to never return. She’d even offered to sell it to Samantha once the herd had turned enough profit to pay her with.
I never want to see Erradale again. Do with it what you wish.Those had been her exact words.
So long as it remains out of Mackenzie hands.
A multitude of scenarios danced behind the words flowing through her mind as clearly as though Alison had spoken them into her ear.
Had Samatha any of the cash left that Alison had given her, she’d consider running. This world was big and wide, and there had to be a place where Boyd and Bradley couldn’t reach her, right?
Or would she, an excessively tall, exceedingly thin American woman stick out like a pervasive weed in a field of flowers no matter where she tried to hide herself?
It didn’t matter now, she supposed. The money was gone.
She was left with nothing but a false name, a wounded leg, and a child to care for and protect.
And a choice.
A frightening choice that could end in absolute disaster.
What if she married Gavin, and Alison changed her mind and came back? What if Boyd and Bradley learned of her survival and came after her, themselves? Her ruse would be uncovered…
Would Gavin still march them to the devil like he’d so passionately threatened to do?
Both scenarios were unlikely, but not impossible. She knew the sum of money Boyd and Bradley had at their disposal and, while it was grand, it wasn’t enough to sustain a vendetta for long. Especially not if they needed to use it to escape the law. The Masters brothers were wanted criminals, their names and likenesses posted at ports and railway stations across the country.
