Page 62 of The Groom Wore Plaid
Apprehension rose in his eyes. “Ye’re saying thisnow? Are ye frightened, lass? Is that what ye’re telling me though ye’re talking in circles?”
“Nay, Owen would never frighten me,” she said, answering it in a way that wasn’t a lie.
“But . . . things aren’t right between ye. I can see that. I hurt for ye.” The final words were a rumble deep in his chest.
She barely kept herself from flinging her arms around him, wishing he could make everything all right, as he’d done in their childhood.
But she couldn’t tell him the truth—she knew that now. He believed in her dreams, had seen the outcome firsthand. If he thought she’d suffer tragedy on her wedding day, he’d stop it outright, regardless of what it did to the peace between their clans. And how would Gregor and his ilk take such an insult? She shivered.
“Hugh, I’m simply getting used to him. Less than three weeks ago, I agreed to marry him, a man who might as well be a stranger.”
“I don’t believe that—I saw how ye were with him.Something happened long ago, something ye didn’t tell me. And ye wouldn’t tell me after ye were betrothed to him.”
“Hugh, we were celebrating your wedding,” she said with exasperation. “The past—it didn’t matter. Itdoesn’tmatter.”
“I didn’t like hearing there was something between ye and a man.”
“But I knew it made ye feel better about accepting the betrothal,” she pointed out.
He didn’t say anything, just put his hands on his hips and waited her out.
“He was barely a man then,” she said reflectively, “just eighteen to my sixteen.”
He frowned so deeply she thought his eyebrows would hit his nose.
“And?” he urged.
“Mother was trying to make peace with the Duffs, since ye were engaged to Lady Catriona—Cat. I met Owen once at a dinner when we were children, and I made no impression on him,” said dryly. “But years later, Mother deliberately chose to live in the same tenement, and we became friends for a few weeks.”
“Friends,” he echoed, his voice full of doubt.
“That’s all we were.”To Owen.
“Did he lead ye on?”
“We flirted, Hugh, that was all.” Did Hugh not remember that Owen’s first betrothed had died? That made this even easier. She’d never told Hugh aboutthe dream she’d had in connection to Owen, humiliated that Owen had believed her a liar—and worried that Hugh would challenge him over her honor. She couldn’t let Hugh know she’d had another dream, the first in many years. “He had a telescope even then, and I was fascinated to look at the stars.”
“It only took a telescope to lure ye to him?” Hugh said.
She gave his arm a push, a smile easing its way onto her face. “He didn’t lure me. We were friends. And then I discovered he was betrothed, and I knew our friendship was inappropriate, so I ended it.”
He searched her eyes as if he was trying to read her soul. She met his gaze with her best attempt at earnestness. It was all true. Sort of. Oh, this balancing on the edge of truth and falsehood was far more difficult with her brother than with Owen.
Hugh sighed. “But things are still awkward between ye—at least on your side. He just kissed ye.”
“Ye sound accusatory, like I shouldn’t be kissing my betrothed, when before ye were married, you and Riona—”
He put a finger to her lips, and she grinned at him.
“At that time, I considered her my wife in the ways of Scotsmen for centuries,” he said quietly.
Her smile faltered. Owen had said he would do almost that same thing. Men.
Hugh lowered his voice. “Does he know about ye, lass?Trulyknow ye?”
She knew that he was referring to her dreams. She shivered. “He knows. I’ve tried not to dream for many a long year, Hugh. I’m hoping it never happens again.”
“How did he take it?”
