Page 75 of Surrender Your Grace
Unfazed, her husband nodded, set aside his paper, and turned his attention to breakfast.
Cici froze, scone halfway to her lips. “Betrothal to who?”
“Since I’m the supposed bride, I’d like to know that too,” Maggie said, bristling.
“To me,” the big Scot replied, grinning broadly.
She shot to her feet. “I’ve agreed to no such thing! I’d sooner wed a Dutch Pug than you.”
“You’ll be respectful, and do as you’re told,” Andrew said coolly. “What happened after we left the study last evening leaves us no other choice.”
Maggie twisted to confront the earl, furious. “You told him? How dare you!”
“I dare,” he said evenly, “just as I dared skelp your misbehaving behind after your conduct last night.”
“Skelp?” Cici echoed, brow furrowed, having difficulty keeping up.
“Scottish for consequences,” Andrew replied between bites.
Maggie whirled to leave so abruptly her chair toppled backward. “I will not marry him!”
“Yes, sister, you will,” Andrew countered, calmly setting his plate aside. This time, he spoke not only as her guardian—but as her brother. “You’ve known Duncan nearly as long as I have. He cares about you and this family. Anyone who’s been in the same room with you two these past few years can feel the sparks. I don’t know why you were both dragging your feet, but it’s time, Maggie.”
“But, Andrew—"
He raised a hand to silence her. “I didn’t ask for details, but you won’t convince me he punished you over your skirts.” He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and stood. “I’ll draw up the marriage contract while you finish breakfast,” he told his friend.
“I’m already done,” Rothbury said, popping the last bite of sausage into his mouth and washing it down with coffee. He stood, grabbed Maggie’s hand, and towed her toward the door.
“You’re both mad if you think I’ll sign anything that binds me to him forever—”
“Your signature’s a courtesy, lass. Not a requirement,” Duncan advised without slowing.
Andrew paused beside Cici and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “We won’t be long. I’ll escort you on your errands after.”
“They’re fighting like feral cats,” she whispered. “Is this wise?”
“They’ll work it out. Like we did,” he murmured, kissing her once more. “Mother and I always knew it would happen. We’re just surprised it took Duncan this long to claim her.”
He followed his friend and sister out the door. Minutes later, Cici heard Maggie’s voice raised in shrill protest. She blushed, remembering her own time in that room—spanked and thoroughly loved—under the false assumption she could say anything and not be overheard.
Cici was still sipping her tea when Maggie stormed back in and dropped into her chair with a scowl.
“My entire life, the men in this family have controlled me,” she snapped, twisting her napkin into a strangled knot. “Now I’ll have another laying down rules left and right, ready to scold me for every breath I take.”
“You’re engaged, then?” Cici asked, gently.
“Yes,” Maggie grumbled. “To that Scottish cur, of all people.”
Andrew appeared in the doorway. “Tut-tut, sister. Our mother is Scottish. Those same bloodlines flow through your veins.”
“I’m not speaking to you. Or to you,” she added when Duncan entered behind him.
“I fear I wasn’t as efficient last night as you, my friend,” Duncan said to Andrew, settling into his chair. “Your bride is the picture of compliant grace this morning. Mine seems hell-bent on earning another skelping before noon.”
Andrew’s lips twitched. “Father kept a birch rod for unruly behavior. I can personally attest to its effectiveness. It’s still in the study closet, if memory serves.”
“Shall I fetch it?” Duncan asked Maggie, voice mild but moss-green eyes gleaming.
