Page 6 of Wed to the Highlander
The porter's bow was reflected in the window glass. He departed, leaving the cart laden with silver domes and crystal behind. Duncan moved toward her, his stride fluid despite the swaying of the train.
“Come to the table, lass,” he said, offering hand. When she didn’t take it, he pulled her to her feet. “You’ll eat,” he stated, not unkindly. “You’ve had naught since the wedding breakfast, and that wasn’t enough to keep a bird alive.”
Had that been only this morning? It seemed a lifetime ago.
“I have no appetite,” she replied dully.
“You’ll need it soon enough. The Highlands doesn’t coddle its ladies.”
“Good thing I’m not a Highland lady,” she muttered.
“Married to a laird… Aye, Maggie, you are.”
Duncan pulled out her chair and guided her into it. Then he uncovered the dishes one by one—roast beef, minted peas, buttered potatoes, a delicate fruit tart beside a dollop of creamy crowdie.
He poured her a glass of claret and handed it over without comment. She took it, if only to avoid looking at him.
Once he’d settled opposite her, he cut into the fragrant beef as easily as butter. “The castle’s not as grim as you’re picturin’. There’s warmth in the stone, if you know where to look.”
“I’m sure I’ll be too busy dodging bats and mildew to notice.”
He chuckled softly. “There are no bats. And the mildew has been banished since my mother declared war on it in ’48.”
“How reassuring,” she muttered.
He glanced up, eyes gleaming. “You’ll fancy the library. It looks over the loch, and the fireplace roars like a dragon when the wind whips down from the mountains.”
She sipped her wine, refusing to be charmed. But the image tugged at something inside her. A flicker of curiosity. A pang of longing.
“Do you live alone in your castle?” she asked.
“My younger brother, Lachlan, and his family reside there as well as a few others, but it’s spacious, and we have a floor tae ourselves.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Half-brother. Da remarried after my mother passed.”
She hadn’t known that either. Had she ever really known him at all?
“Will he accept me?”
“He’ll adore you,” Duncan asserted with a nod. “As will his wife, Fiona, and their three wee lads. The clan, too. You’re fierce. They respect that.”
“I don’t feel fierce. We have yet to arrive, and I already feel as though I’m a fish out of water.”
“If you lower your shields and show them the gracious, kindhearted woman I know you to be, they will embrace you as their lady.”
She set her glass down with a soft clink. “You speak as though this is all inevitable.”
“It is,” he stated with conviction. “You’re a MacPherson now.”
“Unwillingly. What angers me most is the injustice. If I wanted to run away from all this and hide, I couldn’t. I haven’t a farthing to my name. Everything I had now belongs to you.”
“I won’t give credence to the notion. You’re smarter than to run off. I’d only fetch you back.” He spoke evenly and calmly, but his look promised retribution of the sort she’d experienced in the Sommerville study…and then some. “As to the rest of that nonsense, did you not read the marriage settlement before you signed it?”
“After you reminded me, it was only a formality, what was the point?” she muttered. “Besides, it’s the law.”
“Unless other arrangements are made,” he corrected her, “which I insisted upon.”
