Page 107 of The Texan Duke
Surprised, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her up.
“Stubborn?”
“There’s no reason you should be in such a hurry to move away from Bealadair.”
“On the contrary,” she said, beginning to reach for her clothing. “It’s going to happen eventually. Avoiding it won’t make it easier. It’s better if you just face a situation, once and for all, as quickly as possible. That way, it’s done and over.”
How odd that she felt more awkward about getting dressed in front of him than she had remaining naked.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was frowning at her now, and that, by her comment, she had evidently made him angry. Why, though? Did he want her to wait until the very last moment, until the new owners came riding up to the broad wrought iron gates?
Could it be that he was reassessing his earlier decision?
“Are you changing your mind?” she asked. “It would be so much better for everyone if you were. I wouldn’t have to worry about the children’s school or the crofters and who will look after them. Not to mention a dozen other details.”
“I’m not staying here, Elsbeth. I’m not remaining in Scotland. Regardless of what’s happened between us, I’m not going to become a Scot.”
She stared at him, her dress held up in front of her as if to cloak her—finally—in some modesty.
“You are a Scot, Connor. You may wish to renounce it, but by heritage, you are one. Legally, you are the Duke of Lothian. That’s about as Scottish as you can get. It doesn’t matter where you were born. Or where you’ve lived most of your life. You are a Scot. Wanting to be anything else or anywhere else doesn’t negate that fact.”
She sincerely hoped there was no such thing as ghosts—as Connor maintained—otherwise, the ghost of Gavin McCraight was no doubt standing in the corner with his nose to the wall, praying that she would hurry up and get dressed.
She turned her back on Connor and donned her clothing in record speed. No doubt she looked a little less neat than she normally did, but that couldn’t be helped. Her hair was most definitely in need of attention. She was going to escape to her room, set herself to rights, and then be about her duties. Between the journey from Inverness and the accident—if that was the right word to call it—the afternoon was nearly half-gone.
She really did have myriad things to accomplish before the ball was held. The ball to welcome the laird, the same man who wanted to renounce everything Scottish.
Finally, she turned to face Connor, unsurprised that he had dressed as quickly as she. He had that stubborn look on his face, the same one she’d seen a few times before. He was not going to speak. Words would have to be pried from between his lips. He was going to level that gaze on her until she squirmed and said the first thing that came to mind.
She might have, if she hadn’t been annoyed as well. She had not made love to him in order to get him to change his mind about selling Bealadair. How dare he think such a thing.
How odd to have engaged in such delicious lovemaking, only to be so irritated at the man now. She wasn’t going to talk if he wasn’t going to.
She was still annoyed when she opened the library door and closed it with a great deal of force behind her. She was so intent on her thoughts about Connor that she didn’t notice that there were other people in the corridor.
The one person she didn’t want to see was standing a few feet away. Startled, she froze in place, her hand going to the base of her throat, her gaze on the duchess where she stood beside a pastoral landscape painting of Bealadair.
“You must be very careful of these frames. They are gilt. They must never be wiped, but only dusted and with the lightest of touches.”
Beside her was a young maid, the girl’s eyes wide and her lips pursed as if she were afraid to accidentally say something. Elsbeth had seen that expression more than once, especially when the duchess took one of the new girls under her wing and proceeded to give instructions on how to do her duties. As if the Duchess of Lothian had ever wielded a feather duster.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Since it was true, Elsbeth didn’t have anything to say. Not one witty or clever remark came to mind.
“Where have you been?”
“Inverness,” Elsbeth said. “To look for a home.”
“So Connor hasn’t changed his mind then?”
Elsbeth shook her head.
The duchess turned and said something to the young maid, who glanced at Elsbeth with a look of thanks before disappearing down the corridor.
Once they were alone, Rhona directed her attention back to Elsbeth once more.
“I was wrong to ask you to do what I did. I hope you can forgive me. I’ve been told that I can be quite autocratic at times, and that was one of those times, I’m afraid.”
