Page 65 of Scandalous Scot
Ian stopped rambling. He allowed himself, for just a second, to imagine Màiri sitting beside him at Muriel’s as they talked about their joint venture, a nonprofit for—well, whatever cause she wanted to take up. He had so many ideas, none of which had anything to do with McCaim Shipping or public relations. At least not in theputting out firessense.
Something compelled him to look up, to meet Marian’s eyes. “Did she tell you she loved me? Or did you just infer it?”
He was splitting hairs now.
“She was quite clear in her affections for you.” Marian’s perfectly shaped brows rose. “Your feelings for her are obvious as well.”
His chest rose and fell as he struggled to get air in and out naturally.
“I care about her,” he admitted.
Marian said nothing.
“And obviously I like her, in that way.”
He was trying not to be crude. But honestly, Ian wasn’t very accustomed to talking to women he wasn’t trying to sleep with. It was strange, even more so to think Rhys was also married, to a woman he’d never met.
“Obviously,” Marian said, mimicking his accent. He laughed, wondering if he sounded that bad whenever he tried to emulate theirs. Probably worse.
“And I want what’s best for her,” he continued. “She deserves so much.”
Which was part of the reason he’d thought she would be better off without him. Ian thought of something then.
“Did she say anything about Ambrose?”
God, he was such an idiot. He’d actually encouraged her to marry him. No wonder she’d left without saying goodbye.
Marian didn’t answer.
“Marian? Did she say anything about him?”
Still no answer. Instead, his sister-in-law sighed, as if the topic made her sad.
It felt like confirmation that Màiri had said something, that she was going to marry him. And it had all been his fucking idea.
“She’s going to marry him, isn’t she?” No way. “But she doesn’t love him. It’s so obvious. I mean, maybe she does, but she only cares for him as she would a brother. Not as a husband.”
Ambrose would not make her scream out his name. If she married him, she would feel hollow. As if something was missing.
Much like he did right now.
“No, she can’t,” he said, getting to his feet and pacing in front of the hearth. “It’s not a good idea.”
“But”—Marian’s hands paused—“’twas your idea. Màiri said as much.”
Yeah, his idea. His really bad, no good, horrible idea.
“Did she say when she planned on going through with it? I mean, technically we’re still married. She can’t do it until I leave. It wouldn’t be legal. And what if we can’t get back? I have the cross, and the fact that we’re here means it works. But . . .” He stopped, noticing for the first time what Marian was knitting.
“Is that . . . ?” His eyes widened. “Marian, is that sweater for a baby?”
Her eyes lit up.
“It is! Holy shit. You’re pregnant. Does my brother know?”
Marian shook her head. “Nay, and please do not tell him. I will have this finished by tomorrow and plan to give it to him.”
He couldn’t stop smiling. They were going to have a baby in the family. He was going to be an uncle.
