Page 57 of The Wrong Bride
Riona gave a hesitant smile, then bent her head over her embroidery. No, she didn’t hate Hugh, though she once had. She was worried she felt too much for the man in this very impossible situation . . .
“Have ye made plans for a wedding?” Lady McCallum asked.
“Not yet,” Hugh said briskly.
“But Lady Riona is housed in your rooms,” his mother continued, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Is it a trial marriage of sorts?”
“No,” Riona said firmly.
“Oh.” Lady McCallum continued to frown at her son, who ignored her.
A naughty voice inside Riona wondered what they’d say if they knew she and Hugh were bundling . . .
Soon Mrs. Wallace came to escort their guests away, leaving Hugh and Riona alone. She studied his broad back where he stood at the window, hands linked behind as he stared out. She imagined he might not be seeing anything.
“Your kindness to my mother is appreciated, but not truly necessary,” he said brusquely.
She stared at him. “I am not blind. I see that you and your mother have problems, but they aren’tmyproblems. I was not raised to be disrespectfulfor no reason. Of course, if youwantto give me a reason . . .”
“So ye’re saying ye’ll be my bride?” he countered.
And they were back to their stalemate again.
AFTERsupper that night, the clan bard sang a long song celebrating the McCallum past. Thankfully Hugh’s mother had retired, and he was able to sit with his sister and enjoy her eagerness to hear the old song. Occasionally he glanced to where Riona and Dermot sat together. Dermot was obviously translating for her, but that didn’t make Hugh feel any better.
Maggie glanced past him at the couple, then back at Hugh. “Are ye troubled about something?”
“Nay, ’tis nothing.”
“Considering Dermot is your longtime companion and now tanist, ’twould seem you would smile rather than frown when ye look at him. Or are ye frowning at Riona?”
“What do you think of her?” he asked, ignoring her question for one of his own.
Maggie cocked her head. “I’ve only spoken with her as an adult, and I have no memory of her as a child, although I think I should, if what Mother says is true.”
“But she claims she was seldom ever in Scotland.”
“Claims? Ye don’t believe her?”
“A poor choice of words on my part. I knew before I went to England to find her that she’d rarely been here. I wanted to know what I was facing with the Earl of Aberfoyle.”
“Seems wise to be prepared,” she mused, though she still studied him closely.
Hugh looked at Riona again, then asked his sister, “Do ye . . .seeanything about her?”
Maggie’s open, amused expression was suddenly shuttered as if a lamp was turned off. “I don’t do that anymore, Hugh. I’ve told ye that.”
“Ye’ve said that, but . . . has your gut agreed?”
“My gut?” she echoed stiffly, her smile obviously forced. “A man has a gut, a woman has . . . intuition.”
“So now ye’ve the same intuition as every other woman?”
She lowered her voice. “Hugh, don’t do this. Ye ken I want no part of the strange gift I’ve been given.”
“Ye used to call it a God-given gift.”
“But it hurt me one too many times. It became a curse. I found a way to ignore it, to push the dreams away from me. I’m seldom troubled anymore by feelings and emotions that are baffling and in the end, useless.”
