Page 27 of The Groom Wore Plaid
“When we marry, you can come with me to find out. There are pleasure gardens to wander through, where globes light up the trees at night and people from all levels of society walk about masked. Every day men and women have great discussions in the coffeehouses about politics and philosophy and science. Is that what you’d like?”
“Ye cannot lure me into marriage with talk of foreign cities, Owen. Talk is an easy thing to use against a person, and not very successful.”
“You think I’m ‘using’ talk, as if I spout lies?” he demanded.
“I think ye talk to try to get what ye want. Regardless, I won’t be traveling to London. I’ll never leave Scotland for the land of the enemy.”
“It will be your duty as my countess.”
“Then ye’d better find another countess,” she said sweetly.
She moved to turn away and he took her upper arm, holding her close and leaning down. Their faces weren’t far apart.
“I never took you for someone so suspicious,” he said. “What happened to you, Maggie?”
“Life happens to all of us, Owen.Youhappened to me, too. Please release me so I don’t embarrass us both by pulling away.”
He was watching her mouth, and knew what she said, but once again he was caught up in the nearness of her, the lavender in her hair, the moistness of her lips. “Don’t distance yourself, lass,” he murmured. “Give this a chance.”
But he let her go.
MAGGIEwas grateful for the group of horses that slowly wound their way back down the glen toward Castle Kinlochard. It helped her hide her dejection at having to refuse a trip to London. She’d spent her life longing to explore and learn about the world, butgoing along with Owen’s plans would only make him think she would marry him.
All around her, men bragged or teased, women laughed, and Owen remained at the center of it, and yet apart, their laird. He did not seem the sort to have an easy way with his people, which still surprised her. The boy she’d known for those few weeks ten years ago would have been far more at ease. What had happened to him? It couldn’t simply be maturity and responsibility.
Over the next few days as Cat and her mother made preparations to leave, Maggie reluctantly spent time with them. If she wasn’t poring over the law book—confusing Cat but making Owen frown at her—she was sewing pieces of tattered lace and ugly trim to her plainest gowns. Once his family left, she’d be ready for the next part of her plan, making Owen lose his desire for her. Then at last he might try to help her find another way to satisfy the contract.
She spent her nights trying to have another dream. She used several methods: she stayed awake late, hoping exhaustion would trigger something; she made herself think about the dream constantly during the day; she even tried writing it down just before going to bed. Nothing worked. Each morning saw her more and more exhausted with her failure, and Cat watched her with worry.
And then came news of another fire, this one inan uninhabited cottage. No one had been hurt, but it seemed the arsonist was taking a daring step closer to such a risk. Owen increased patrols throughout the countryside, but continued to publicly insist someone was only taunting him. She didn’t know what he privately thought, because she hadn’t asked him.
On the final night before his mother and sister were to leave, Owen followed Maggie to her room.
She put a hand on his chest, barring him from entering behind her. “Nay, go be with your family. Ye won’t be seeing them for some time.”
Fergus had followed, and now stood uncertainly at the end of the hall. He didn’t seem to know where to look, and ended up staring at the ceiling. Maggie would have laughed under other circumstances. She appreciated Fergus’s abilities as unaware chaperone.
Owen jerked his head at Fergus, who obediently stepped back down the corridor, out of sight. Owen leaned his forearm against the doorjamb above his head, which made almost a cozy tent for them to speak beneath.
With his thumb, he brushed her cheek. “You have circles beneath your eyes growing darker each day,” he said quietly. “Do not concern yourself about another fire or Martin Hepburn. I’ve talked to his neighbors. Martin might not get along well with people, but he’s never been accused of a crime. It’s hard to believe he’d start a fire on clan property.”
She nodded, holding the law book tightly to herchest as a barrier against him. Her base thoughts lingered on the impressive width of his chest that gave evidence of his ability to fight anyone to protect his land and people.
“I will discover the truth, Maggie. I protect what’s mine.”
She felt suddenly trapped by the heat that smoldered in his dark eyes. Days of avoiding him only meant that his presence seemed to affect her even more. Exhaustion had sapped her ability to resist him. When he leaned down to kiss her, it took everything in her to let her mouth go slack. Her emotions rioted inside her, making parts of her ache in a way she hadn’t felt since . . . he’d kissed her ten years before.
He slanted his head and parted her lips with dogged determination, deepening the kiss. He caught her against him, and she shuddered, all her resolve dissolving, forcing her into a last desperate rebellion: she bit him.
He jerked his head up with a mild curse, and she quickly stepped into her room and closed the door against him.
“Sorry!” she called. “I just don’t ken how to do anything right.”
Eyes closed, body humming with awareness and need, she rested her head against the door and listened. The wood seemed to vibrate with his touch, but he only grumbled something and walked away.
THEnext morning, Owen knew the shadows beneath his own eyes might rival Maggie’s. He’d barely been able to sleep. The kiss he’d meant to seduce her with had caused him more than the pain of frustrated desire. He’d been shocked she’d bitten him. Why had he thought spunk and determination a good thing in a bride? But he reluctantly admitted that he didn’t want a weakling for a wife, and he certainly wasn’t getting one.
“You haven’t taken your eyes off the McCallum girl,” Lady Aberfoyle said.
