Page 47 of The Groom Wore Plaid
She groaned. “And how was I any good for my people? My mother took me away, hid me from my father, kept me removed from my friends and others when they needed me the most.”
“Don’t make yourself guilty for another’s sins. Those London women didn’t make me think about marriage. Only when I saw you again did I know what I had to do.”
Her resistance was a wall she built higher and higher between them. He put his fists on his hips and stared hard into her eyes, willing her to trust him. Thewind picked up; his plaid flapped at his knees, her gown seemed to skim over the grass, and still their gazes did battle.
He wanted her trust, but he didn’t intend to grant his own. For the first time he truly considered this assumption. Was he just as guilty as any Duff clansmen of assuming that a McCallum trying to get out of a sworn marriage contract could never have a valid reason simply because of who she was? But how could he trust her when she wouldn’t let go of this notion of dreams that came true? It only served to remind him of the foolish mistakes of his youth, where he let his emotions for Maggie overrule his duty to Emily and his clan.
“So ye weren’t thinking of marriage in London,” she said, “but surely there were women.”
“Women?”
“Women ye spent time with.”
“You mean mistresses?”
“Ye had them. All men do.”
“Do they? I didn’t know it was a rule.”
“Ye’re avoiding the question.” She took a deep breath, and the wind whipped dark curls of hair about her head. “I don’t love ye, Owen, but it doesn’t mean I want ye to die. Maybe ye should find another woman who’d be more suitable, less deadly.”
She started back down the hillside, going too fast. And then she stumbled and fell, dropping out of sight. Owen raced after her.
CHAPTER11
The gravel gave way before Maggie, and directly in her path were two small boulders that hadn’t been there before. Trying to avoid them, her feet slipped from beneath her. She cried out, desperately flinging both arms wide, but could find nothing to hold on to. She slid sideways down a rocky slope, rather than following the path that hugged the hilltop. She came to a halt hard against a boulder, and she felt her ankle twist with a sharp pain. But she didn’t let go.
As she panted and tried to see how far away the path was, she felt rocks and dirt raining down on her.
“Maggie!”
Owen’s voice from above her was urgent, but she wasn’t fool enough to think he cared about her except as a pawn between their clans. Then his arm smacked her hard on the back as he tried to catch himself on the same boulder. He came to a stop beside her, while gravel continued to fall all around them. With hisarms he shielded her from the worst of it. Her ankle throbbed dully, but that faded compared to the worry that someone might have placed those rocks where she and Owen wouldn’t see them until it was too late.
But they were rocks on an incline, she scolded herself silently. They could have shifted because of their earlier passing. She was letting this unknown villain make her paranoid.
She remembered Martin had lingered at Euphemia’s cottage, and she shivered. But the man was old—surely they would have heard him attempting to climb the steep path?
When the last pebble had fallen and the silence was unbroken, she lifted her head to face Owen. His face was streaked with dirt, brow furrowed with what could be anger or concern.
“Are ye all right, lass?” he demanded.
She heard the brogue in his voice for the first time, and she didn’t like how it warmed her. She felt a cacophony of emotions, from unease to need to desperation to confusion.
“Maggie, answer me.”
The brogue was gone, but she knew she’d heard it. “I’m fine. I turned my ankle, but nothing serious.”
“You should not have rushed down the mountain like that,” he said sternly.
“Nay, I shouldn’t have.”
He opened his mouth as if to continue lecturing her,but she’d already given him the answer he wanted to hear. “Then come, let us see how your ankle is.”
He rose to his feet, and she allowed him to lift her by the hands. Gingerly, she set weight on her ankle, then tried to hide her wince. He started to put his arms around her, and she put a hand on his chest.
“Nay, ye won’t be carrying me or we’ll take a tumble. I’ve hurt myself worse. Just let me hold your arm.”
She could see his jaw clench, but he had no choice except to go along with her. They moved slowly through the gorse and bramble back to the main path, then she tried to keep as little weight on her foot as possible. The soreness eased a bit, and soon she was only limping by the time the path began to level out behind Euphemia’s cottage. The old woman was not in sight, which frustrated Maggie. Now Euphemia couldn’t say if she’d seen Martin go by.
