Page 77 of The Groom Wore Plaid
Was she actually disappointed? What was wrong with her? He was a man who only wanted her for her body and as a pawn in a feud. He thought she was either a liar or simpleton. And now she had to worry that she was carrying his babe.
And yet she wanted him to walk in on her naked?She groaned and put her head back on the rim of the tub. She really was a simpleton. A lovesick simpleton. That could be the only explanation.
She had less than a half hour—she’d better hurry.
When he knocked again, precisely on time, Kathleen was still lacing her gown into place.
“Just a moment, my lord,” Kathleen called.
“I should have had you write him a note,” Maggie said. “Then he would have given us more time.” She watched the maid out of the corner of her eye.
“Aye, no matter. I’m about done.”
Maggie nodded and tried not to sag with frustration. It was pointless to question Kathleen—surely Gregor could write.
At last, Kathleen opened the door, bobbed a little curtsy to Owen, and departed. Owen shut the door behind him and stood there.
Maggie hadn’t known how she’d feel when she saw him again. He was studying her with those dark eyes, and she felt uncomfortably aware of what he’d done to her in the night, the intimate things he’d . . .
Oh, damn, now she was blushing.
“Yes?” she asked, trying to sound cool and unaffected.
And then she realized that he was carrying a tray.
“I brought you breakfast. May I sit down?”
She gestured to the little table near the window, where he proceeded to place individual plates, a bowl of porridge, as well as a platter in the center piled with bacon,salted herring, and fried eggs. It felt strange to have him serving her, but he owed her a lot more than that.
She sat down and placed a napkin across her lap, and watched him do the same. He filled a small bowl with porridge for her, then set a small helping of everything else on her plate, even as she broke open a warm bannock and sniffed appreciatively. They ate silently for several minutes, until at last Owen eyed her.
“You look refreshed this morning. I trust you slept well?”
She sighed. “Not really. I had a difficult time falling asleep.”
“I’m sorry.”
She wanted to ask him exactly what he was sorry for, but she didn’t. The words were an easy thing to say and were seldom meant.
“Before we discuss the letter, I wish to discuss our lovemaking,” he said.
Maggie lifted up her head sharply. “Ye cannot mean that.”
“I wanted you to know I did not plan it, that I would never deliberately try to trap you into marriage.”
“I didn’t think ye did.”
“I am relieved. But regardless, if there’s a child—”
“Then we will discuss it.”
“I will not allow a child of mine to be born a bastard,” he said firmly.
“I didn’t say I would either. But Owen, if we marry, ye could die!”
“We’re all going to die. But before I do, I’ll have ye to wife.”
She closed her eyes. Did he know what he did to her when his brogue peeked out? And why was he so bloody dense?
