Page 63 of To Wed an Heiress
“Is this rudeness a Scottish trait, Mercy? One you’ve recently acquired?”
He was right. She hadn’t asked about his health or his journey. An oversight that she wouldn’t have made a month ago. The truth was that she didn’t care. If he wished to label her rude, she didn’t care about that, either.
“Why did you do such a foolish thing as come here, Mercy?”
Her trip to Scotland hadn’t been foolish. She would remember it for the rest of her life. Yet she’d never be able to tell anyone why. Perhaps she should start a journal. Within the pages she could write about Lennox, reveal things that she’d never felt before, thoughts that surprised or shocked her.
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it does,” he said. “Was it because of our wedding? I hear brides sometimes get nervous before the nuptials.”
She looked away, focusing on a painting on the opposite wall. The man standing there was portly, bald, and smiling brightly. She thought it was one of the first Macrorys, perhaps even the one who’d begun building this house. She kept her attention on the painting rather than look at Gregory.
“My father might respect you. My mother may be fond of you, but I’m still not going to marry you, Gregory. How many times have I told you that? Twenty? Thirty? I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Don’t be foolish, Mercy.”
She glanced at him and then away, trying not to be affected by the odd smile he was giving her, almost as if he knew something she didn’t.
“I don’t want to marry you. I won’t marry you.”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about, Mercy. Your life isn’t going to change.”
If he knew anything about her, Gregory would know how that comment made her feel. She loved her parents, but she wanted her own life, not one shared with them. Her parents had already committed to redoing half the second floor of their New York home for her and Gregory so that they would have the illusion of their own apartment, their own space. Except, of course, that it would be just an illusion. They would be expected to take each meal with her parents, spend time each evening with them, even entertain with them. Her life would be indistinguishable from what it was now. The only addition would be Gregory as her husband and that was most definitely not what she wanted.
He reached over and covered her hand with his.
“Were you safe, Mercy?”
She turned to look at him. “Safe?”
He nodded. “You weren’t waylaid on your journey, then? Nothing untoward happened?”
Waylaid? She knew quite well what waylaid meant. In other words, was she still pure and inviolate?
“It’s none of your concern whether I was safe, Gregory. I’m not your fiancée.”
He ignored her comment. “You did something foolish, Mercy, traveling by yourself. You don’t realize how dangerous your journey was.”
“Again, it’s none of your concern.”
He examined her hand. “You aren’t wearing your ring.”
“No. I removed it because I knew I wasn’t going to marry you. I’ll return it.”
He smiled. “Don’t be foolish, Mercy. Of course we’re going to be wed. The invitations have already gone out.”
Did no one ever hear her? Was every word she’d spoken ignored? Had she no ability to control her own life? Evidently not, according to her parents and Gregory. Even after she’d left they’d continued to make plans. She didn’t even need to be there for her life to be arranged.
She pulled her hand free, not wanting to touch him. “Then we’ll have to rescind each and every one. I’m not going to marry you, Gregory.”
He reached over and pulled her close to him. Before she could move away, he placed his hand on her cheek and turned her head, leaning close until they were only inches apart.
“You will marry me, Mercy,” he said softly. “It’s been decided. You can try to escape, but it won’t matter. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. You’re mine.”
The smile he wore didn’t find its way to his blue eyes. She wanted to move away except that his grip was too tight.
“Do you understand?” he asked softly. “We will be married, exactly when and where it’s been planned. I promise you that, Mercy, and I never break my word.”
