Page 88 of The Texan Duke
He wasn’t sure he wanted to have anything to do with the Scottish McCraights in the future. Ordinarily, he would’ve invited them back to Texas, proud to show this branch of the family the success Graham had achieved. However, he hadn’t issued the invitation, and he wasn’t certain he was going to.
“Good match. Sorry about beating you.”
Connor turned to face Felix. “Never be sorry for winning,” he said.
The man evidently took great pride in his victory because he couldn’t hide his gloating smile.
He didn’t give a flying fig that he had lost to Felix. Let the man boast. Let him brag about his accomplishments. It didn’t matter.
“Surprised to see you shoot with your left arm, though,” Felix said.
“It was a skill I learned in the war. Of course, I was shooting at live targets, then. Men, not glass balls.”
There, that wiped the smile off the man’s face.
“Did you shoot me, Felix?”
He hadn’t given the man any hint of his question and he watched Felix’s face closely. Surprise bloomed in the other man’s eyes for a moment, and then was quickly gone.
“Of course I didn’t shoot you.”
“I warn you I’m not that easy to kill.”
“Why would you think it was me?”
He ignored Felix’s question for one of his own. “Do you think if I’m dead things will change? I’ve given instructions that the sale of Bealadair is to go through, regardless of what happens to me.”
Felix didn’t respond to that information.
Connor had never had the experience of being actively disliked simply because of who he was or the fact that he’d been born. No, not simply born. Born a McCraight.
He turned and, without another word to Felix, walked away.
Chapter 27
“He’s going to be unbearable,” the duchess said, turning from the window. “I do wish His Grace had trounced him.”
“Connor isn’t into competition shooting much,” Sam said, offering the duchess a plate of cookies.
He liked the way she took one delicately between thumb and forefinger. He liked most of the things she did, from her way of speaking in that Scottish brogue of hers to her quick smile.
He was smitten and well aware of it. Normally, his attraction to a woman took a little time in forming. He’d had some good relationships and some long relationships. He’d rarely had good, long relationships. Therefore, he was getting a little more cautious as he grew older, which made the situation with the duchess even more surprising.
The woman was a paradox. He recognized in her something he knew about himself. What people saw on the exterior was not truly how he felt inside. He knew, all too well, that he had a reputation for hard drinking, hard loving, and carousing from time to time. The people who willingly passed along such stories never saw him with a book, however, or at the opera, which he truly enjoyed.
Rhona worked hard at creating the perfect image of the Duchess of Lothian, of arranging her family around her almost like a protective wall. Her position was very important to her, as if it defined the woman she was. Inside, however, he suspected she was lonely and now terrified by Connor’s decision. Everything she knew to be true, everything she had carefully erected for all these years, was about to crumble.
She was not unlike a hermit crab in the process of changing its house.
For all her flaws and faults, however, Rhona McCraight had a delightful sense of humor. She was, surprisingly, able to laugh at herself, although he doubted that she shared her wry observations with many people.
He suspected that her marriage with Gavin hadn’t been all that pleasant, but she would probably deny it until her death. Evidently, aristocrats were not allowed to admit they were unhappy.
She got a look in her eyes from time to time, one that he thought of as farseeing. He imagined he had that look himself, staring out over the Texas prairie, wondering what the hell he was doing chasing cows with Graham when he would much rather have been in Austin or Dallas. Friendship exacted a toll on a person. It had never been more so than in his friendship with Graham. Graham was all work and little play, and it looked like Connor was following in his footsteps.
“The man will be unbearable,” Rhona said again. “He will do nothing but boast of today for weeks or months or however long we have here.”
She sent a sideways glance in his direction, and he bit back his smile.
