Page 9 of The Groom Wore Plaid
“Ye’re pretending to be a Highlander now, are ye?” she asked.
“Pretending? I don’t have to pretend what I’ve earned from my ancestors.” He had also donned a black armband for his father, but Maggie didn’t comment on that. She wasn’t wearing mourning for her own father. From what he remembered of her stories when they were young, he didn’t blame her.
“Ye just look different, as if ye want everyone to forget ye’re an earl.”
“I am aScottishearl. And remember, I’m not an earl to you, Maggie, but a bridegroom.”
With an impudent toss of her head, she looked away. He glanced down her body, seeing the way she had more curves than he remembered. She had lush breasts shown off to perfection by her stays, and her gown flowed out from her narrow waist, hinting at a curve of hip that made him want to test it with his hands.
He put out his arm, and her cool hesitation before taking it made him grind his teeth. He saw her into her chair and then sat beside her. Trays of roasted venison, mutton, and hares; bowls of turnips, leeks, and cabbage were displayed before them both. She filled up her plate, then set to eating as if she could ignore him that way. She kept her eyes downcast, but more than once, when she raised them to a servant, their own eyes widened at her different-colored eyes, and they crossed themselves. That had to be an annoying reaction. He would speak to Mrs. Robertson about it.
“Did you have a pleasant morning?” he asked.
“Mrs. Robertson gave me a tour of the castle,” she said.
Boldly she looked about, since many were staring and not doing a good job of hiding it. Owen arched an eyebrow as he glanced pointedly at the clan, and most immediately returned to their meal.
“What did you think of your new home?” he asked.
“’Tis an adequate fortress.”
She wasn’t going to give an inch. “The clan has several, but I thought you’d be most comfortable here, nearer your kin.”
“We have several castles as well. We’re not competing over this, are we?”
“Of course not,” he said impassively.
He let her return to eating silently for several minutes, but he found it was difficult to keep quiet whenhe still had questions. “What did you like about Castle Kinlochard? It’s to be your home, after all.”
She considered him with narrowed eyes, as if he was trying to trap her.
“I like your library,” she said at last. “My father did not believe in books for their own sake, just what was needed for the estates. Whereas ye have so many.”
“Surely you remembered my focus on educating myself,” he said. Alluding to their aborted time together in Edinburgh was a risky move.
Anger flashed in those amazing eyes, but she kept her voice level. “I remembermanythings. But I imagine ye don’t want them discussed here.”
“Do you plan to make this more difficult than it has to be?” he asked quietly, coldly.
“Do ye like your women so meek and accepting,Owen?” She emphasized his name. “If we’re not to discussdifficultthings, we won’t have much of a marriage.”
“I will discuss anything you wish, but I’d prefer to be more subtle and private about it.”
“So we can only discuss things the wayyou’dlike to.”
“I’m trying to know you better, Maggie. Why are you angry with me when you agreed to this marriage?”
Her eyes widened, and she looked him up and down with barely concealed scorn. “If ye cannot remember how we parted ten years ago, then for a man who reads history, ye seem good at deluding yourselfabout it. Aye, I agreed to this marriage—I didn’t say I was happy about it.”
They regarded each other in tense silence, and many people gave them curious glances. At last, Maggie seemed to notice them.
“Very well,” she said, “ye’d like me to be as polite and vapid as callers are in an Edinburgh parlor. Aye, ye were focused on an education—one denied women, by the way. Did ye take up the classics like your father wanted, or the sciences?”
“My father and I agreed to an arrangement,” he said coolly. “I would study what he wished, the classics, as long as I could choose my own bride.”
“And it took ye so long that ye’re settling for me at last?” she asked with sarcasm. “Och, forgive me, I couldn’t resist my baser nature. Ye’ve met no other women ye like?” Her skepticism was obvious.
“A woman I would willingly marry? No.” He leaned closer to murmur the last words. “Until you.”
