Page 5 of The Groom Wore Plaid
Ignoring him, she narrowed her eyes as she considered the taste on her tongue. “Aye, this is from our land. But ye’ve done something . . . different.”
“Have we.”
As if she hadn’t heard him, she studied the glass. “Ye’ve changed the proportion of the peat, I believe. The smoke of the peat fire is used to dry the malt.”
Her voice was a tad slow, as if explaining to a simpleton.
Maggie sighed, then spoke with satisfied pride. “Och, well, ye had to alter it somehow, or everyone would have thought it was ours. We do distill the best in the Highlands.”
“You did.”
She swished the liquid in the glass and sniffed. “Believe what ye’d like, my lord.”
He took the drink back. “You called me Owen not too long ago.”
“Ten years is a long time—Owen,” she said brusquely.
After the wary distance she’d shown him during her brother’s wedding celebration, he found himself relieved for the renewal of her spirit. He didn’t want to be married to a martyr.
“Ye seem familiar with each other already,” Harold interrupted. “Is that why ye decided to marry?”
“Nay, no familiarity involved there,” Maggie said with a dry tone in her voice. “At least none that mattered. I do believe he offered for me because it was the onlyhonorablething to do to keep the peace.”
Owen stiffened. “Honorable? You cannot possibly questionmeabout that after what your brother did.”
Her smile faded and they looked at each other intently.
In a mild voice, Harold said, “Shall I play the role of arbiter, as well as war chief?”
“That won’t be necessary, Uncle,” Owen said. “You asked me to explain what happened and I shall. You knew that Maggie’s brother Hugh was engaged to my sister since her birth. It was our fathers’ attempt to bring peace to the clan, to offer a dowry to the McCallums, and to share the land where they distilled their whisky. After Hugh became chief, he came to collect his bride, and my father behaved dishonorably by secreting her away and putting our cousin Riona in her place.”
Harold stiffened, but his expression remained impassive. He well knew the cruelty his brother had often practiced.
“Hugh took the wrong bride and fell in love with her,” Owen finished.
Maggie’s gaze shot to his face, and she didn’t hide her surprise. Had she thought he’d continue to berate her brother’s choices, the way the man had kidnapped Riona and wouldn’t believe the truth? Hugh’s mistakes were in the past, and after all, Owen’s father had played his own part. But the earl was dead, and it was up to Owen to make things right. His father managed to control him in the end, even from beyond the grave.
“So the marriage contract was broken,” Harold said slowly.
“Maggie and I decided to set it aright,” Owen answered. “We will marry and seal the bond between our clans. I don’t want animosity to ever erupt again.”
Harold looked from him to Maggie and back again. Maggie was simply pushing her food about her plate, her expression pensive, perhaps even sad.
They’d been forced into a marriage they didn’t want because of poorly planned actions on both sides. Owen was doing his best—she damned well better try just as hard.
“When will this marriage take place?” Harold asked.
The sooner the better, Owen thought. What would be the point of delaying the inevitable? “Four weeks. That is enough time for Maggie to settle in at Castle Kinlochard and have the banns read.”
Maggie stood up, pushing back her chair with force.“I’d like to retire now. Mrs. Robertson, will ye show me to my bedroom?”
And without looking back, Maggie left the great hall. Owen watched her until she’d gone, anger and frustration warring within him.
“Take heart, lad,” Harold said. “Many a marriage has started worse.”
“Says the man who never found the right woman to marry,” Owen shot back.
Harold gave a rare grin. “Didn’t say which of us was the smartest, now did I?”
