Page 74 of The Groom Wore Plaid
A coldness seemed to seize his chest, making it hard to breathe.
“My lord?” Mrs. Robertson said hesitantly. “I’m so sorry.”
He nodded, then as if from a distance, heard himself say, “I’ll take care of this. I’ll see her safe. Do not tell anyone what you have seen.”
Mrs. Robertson bobbed her head several times, then shook it, looking panic-stricken, before hurrying away.
He stood still for a moment, unable to move. The thought of a world without Maggie . . . And then the coldness that had frozen him began to crack one painfulpiece at a time, stabbing him. He’d never imagined how much she’d grown to mean to him, had never imagined the sorrow of knowing she was so terribly unhappy, she’d rather die. He should have let her go with her brother—
But she hadn’t asked him. Did even the chance to escape marriage not matter anymore?
He closed his door and walked swiftly to her room. He didn’t think about knocking, didn’t even know what he would say to her. He just opened the door.
She was wearing naught but her thin nightshift, bent over a chest, clothing dumped on the floor. She cried out when he appeared so suddenly, then put a hand to her chest.
“Och, Owen, why did ye scare me like that?”
She looked so normal, her usual exasperation with him evident, but it didn’t help. All the while she’d been insisting she couldn’t marry him, she’d been sinking more and more into despair. He’d driven her to this.
When he didn’t say anything, she frowned and rose slowly to her feet. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t know what to say or how to explain it. He should ask logical questions and discover the answer. But all he could do was hold up the paper.
“Oh, I was just looking—” Those unusual eyes went wide. “Owen—I didn’t write this, I swear to ye. Here’s the second part of the note that must have gotten mixed up between the garments.”
He just stared at her, then said hoarsely, “I didn’tfind it. Mrs. Robertson . . .” He trailed off. Would Maggie lie now that she’d been discovered? When he had the proof right there?
“Oh, Owen,” she murmured in a voice far too tender. “I would never take such a cowardly way out. Ye ken I’m a fighter—I’ve been fighting ye all along. Here, read this one.”
He took the paper and had to force his eyes to focus.
Go home while you still can.
“Someone forged my writing,” Maggie said grimly. “They just wanted to scare me, I know. I found it last night.”
“Last night?” he repeated, with only a faint echo of anger. He was too relieved, too overcome.
“I couldn’t show ye this morn,” she insisted. “My brother was still too close and ye might have made me leave with him. I was going to show ye earlier tonight, but ye didn’t want to talk to me.”
“I was . . . angry about my cousins.” His anger seemed ridiculous, so minor in the scheme of all that had been revealed to him about how he felt about Maggie.
Suddenly, he captured her face in both hands. “Ye’re telling me the truth, lass,” he whispered.
She cupped his face in return. “Aye, I swear on God and the Virgin Mary.”
And then he was kissing her, her trembling mouth,her damp cheeks, her fluttering eyelids. He kissed her forehead, her mouth again, her neck, and then pulled her so hard into his embrace, he heard the air leaving her lungs with a gasp. She smelled of lavender and herself, and with his hands he discovered how soft her back was. He clumsily pulled at the tie of her long braid, and soon her dark, rippling hair flowed far down her back.
He was separated from her skin by the sheerest linen nightshift. No padding hid her delicate waist. He slid his hands down and cupped her ass, molding her, then bringing her hard against his hips.
“Maggie,” he said against her throat. “Maggie.”
She arched against him, as if she, too, couldn’t be close enough.
He didn’t know what to touch first. Through her garment, her skin felt smooth and warm. For the first time he cupped her breasts unbound, and they filled his hands.
“I need to feel you, Owen,” she whispered, almost shyly.
And then her hands were at his belt, and somehow his plaid was falling and only his shirt and her shift separated them. He pulled her back against him harder, lifting her knee, spreading her thighs, pressing himself against the soft heat there. She cried out and clutched him to her, feeling his back and lower, grabbing his ass as he’d done to her.
