Page 26 of The Groom Wore Plaid
“Not deliberately. But I think once Mother and I are gone, you’ll be free to make her feel wanted.” She cocked her head. “Maggie mentioned that the two of you spent time together one autumn long ago. Maybe you need to makeherremember it. Now go be with her.”
She gave him a push, as if he were a young man at his first dance. When he frowned at her, she rolled her eyes. He sensed she was barely holding back from sticking out her tongue. The edge of his mouth quirked up, and by her laughing eyes, he knew she’d seen it. She always could bring out the humor in every situation, a trait he didn’t have.
He saw Maggie walking toward the loch, solemnly eating another oatcake, and he approached her. Her gaze roamed down his damp shirt, and the haste with which she looked back at his face made him feel satisfied. She might be resistant to marriage, but there was no doubt that she wasn’t immune to him. And he wasn’t immune to her.
“You look good here, among my people,” he said, reaching up to slip a lock of her hair back behind her ear.
She gave a start, her eyes wary. “You think flattery will help ye get your way?”
“It’s worth a try. Didn’t some man try to work his wiles on you before now?”
She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t answer.
“Why did you not marry?”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment, just stared out across the water at the bare hills to the north, the direction of her home.
“I felt I’d know the right man when I met him,” she said at last, then arched a brow at him. “It never happened.”
“Perhaps because you’d already met the one man meant to be your husband—me.”
She gave a snort that was anything but amusement. “Evenyoudon’t believe that. If ye did, ye’d have come to court me long before now.”
“Do you wish I would have?”
“Nay, I’m saying that we aren’t destined to be together.” She lowered her voice. “My dream is apparently trying to prove the truth of that in the worst way possible.”
He ignored her reference to the dream, refusing to play along with her game by offering another rational argument every time she brought it up. “Were you angry that after Emily died, I didn’t come to court you?”
“Not at all.”
“I was eighteen, Maggie. I was sad about Emily’s death, but relieved not to have to marry a woman Ididn’t choose. My education was my focus in those years, as it should have been.”
“Ye don’t have to convince me of that. I knew how little a marriage mattered to ye, and how little faith or trust ye had in me.”
He was not going to defend himself or his behavior again, especially since she was only trying to punish him. “It matters to me now. Only twenty-seven more days.”
She turned back to the water, revealing nothing in her unusual eyes. Looking at her slim back made him want to put his hands on her, feel the narrowness at her waist give rise to the curve of her hips. Time to distract himself.
“Did you enjoy the library this morn?” he asked.
She faced him again, then reluctantly said, “Not as much as I’d hoped. The room proves that my education was sorely lacking. I find little I can understand. But I’m not giving up,” she added sharply. “There’s a book on contracts I mean to decipher.”
“Go ahead. I won’t rescind your access to the library.”
She thought him a monster, forcing her to marry, handing out rules on a whim. Did she not care thathewas being forced to marry, too, losing the right to name his own wife? But she wouldn’t take such a reminder kindly, he knew. He was irritated that she wasn’t settling into her role, accepting her new reality. Surely she understood the duty of a laird’s daughter.But perhaps Cat was right, that he had much work to do if he wanted a comfortable marriage.
“A library was the one way I felt that my father did right by me,” Owen said. “I would never deny you such a privilege. I look forward to introducing you to more when we travel to London early next year.”
Those dark brows, so expressive, lowered again. “Travel to London?”
“I am a member of the House of Lords with my father’s death, and I must take my seat there. I think you’ll enjoy the city. Have you ever been there before?”
She shook her head. “Edinburgh is all I’ve known—all I need to know. I won’t be traveling to England.”
He ignored that, speaking patiently. “The sheer size of London will astound you, and it spreads outward every year. More than half a million people live there, and it continues to grow so much it might outpace the entire population of Scotland.”
“That is not possible,” she insisted.
