Page 72 of What a Scot Wants
For one, her belief in love wouldn’t be dead.
Ronan Maclaren was a man a woman could easily fall in love with, and not just because of his exterior, though that was arguably fine. No, it was because underneath all that gruffness, he was a good man. He was honorable. His family loved him. His clan respected him. And he washere. With her, holding her hand while she cried…while she made excuses for a monster and told only half truths about what had happened to her in the past.
Ordinary men didn’t do those things.
Uncaring, hard-hearted men didn’t rescue cynical, broken, unvirtuous girls.
Buthedid.
Her gaze traced the sharp-hewn features that had become so dear in so short a time—the expressive eyes that could scorch or slay without words, the bold slope of his nose, his strong, square jaw, and that stern but sensual mouth that made her mind shift to other things. She’d tasted the press of those lips on hers and wanted it again.
Imogen dragged her gaze away and focused on the dancing flames in the hearth. She needed to think of something else or she’d fling herself into his arms, to hell with the consequences. “Tell me about growing up with your sisters,” she blurted. “What were they like?”
A smile lit his eyes as he rocked back on his heels and then stood to take the seat beside her. He seemed to sense her need to talk about something else. Something that mattered.
“Sorcha, as ye can imagine, was a handful,” he began. “Even as the second youngest, she was always in the thick of trouble. She wanted to be like her older brothers, and my brothers, Evan and Finlay, goaded her terribly. When she was attacked by that wolf, she’d gone exploring on a dare from those two. Being scarred so badly, she had a tough time of it, but she’s courageous, that one, with a heart as big as Loch Rannoch. Then there’s Makenna. Ye willnae find a stronger woman in Scotland, nor a more compassionate one. I have a soft spot for her. She was always saving puppies and chicks and baby hedgehogs. Lastly, the eldest of the girls is Annis. As a girl, she never let anything stop her from going after what she wanted, even if our parents didn’t approve. She knew exactly who she was, even as a child. I suppose with me as her older brother, she wanted to rebel. And she did.”
Imogen smiled. “Sounds like you love them very much.”
“Most days,” he said.
“I always wanted a large family,” she murmured quietly. “Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. I am an only child. My parents tried again for years, but after a few ugly miscarriages, a doctor advised against it. Your family sounds wonderful. Boisterous.”
“They would love ye.”
Imogen’s lip curled. “The princess, the prude, or the coquette?”
“All of ye.” He shot her a wicked grin that made her insides clench. “Though I admit I might be partial to the last, but perhaps we can keep that wicked side of ye between us.”
“I get it now,” she said after a beat, watching him. He lifted a brow, and she pushed on. “Why you were so picky about a wife from the start. I mean, Aisla and Sorcha told me about Grace, but I can’t see her as a match for you. She’s too self-absorbed. But with so many strong, amazing women in your life, it stands to reason that you would want a wife who can come close to the standard you grew up with. It’s hard to match that.” She shook her head. “For what it’s worth, I admire Sorcha, and of course Aisla.”
“I’m sure the feeling is mutual.”
“Oh?”
He gave her a wry smile. “They both promised to wreak havoc upon my person if I upset ye in any way. And let me tell ye, the only person who has ever bested me by claymore has been my wee baby sister Sorcha. I claimed it was luck, but it was pure skill. I wouldnae want to cross that one.”
Imogen wouldn’t want to, either. Sorcha Montgomery was a force of her own.
“And let’s no’ get started on my sister-by-marriage,” Ronan went on. “That woman’s tongue is as sharp as steel and equally as lethal. Honestly, I’m still wincing from Aisla’s last set-down at North’s garden party, where she told me to get my head out of my arse if I kenned what was good for me.”
Imogen couldn’t help it; she laughed, and the look of pleasure in his eyes was almost her undoing.Again. He offered her some more brandy, but Imogen refused. She was sure her parents would be wondering and worrying why she’d left the Langlevit ball so abruptly without so much as a by-your-leave. It was unlike her, and she wouldn’t put it past Silas to make some underhanded remark.
“I should be getting back,” she said, clearing her throat.
“Ye can stay here,” Ronan offered.
Imogen nodded. “I know, but my things are at Kincaid Manor, and I should check in with my parents.”
“As ye wish.” He canted his head and rose to call for a footman to fetch his carriage.
“You don’t have to accompany me,” she said. “I shall be quite all right.”
He grinned. “Stop trying to escape me, woman.”
God, she didn’t deserve him. Not as a future husband, not even as a friend. Though she’d been mostly honest with Ronan, she hadn’t told him the full truth tonight. Imogen didn’t know if shecould. Telling your possible future husband that you were ruined goods was a bit more daunting than explaining why a man from your past was slavering at your heels. Even if the two were connected.
Imogen wasn’t sure she had the courage. She could only imagine the way Ronan would look at her if he knew of her visit to the Golden Antler and what occurred there, even if she’d instantly regretted it. The same way her parents would see her.
