Page 42 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
She looked up at Magnus, and they held each other’s gazes, before they both replied with a tense “Fine.”
No one seemed to have a suitable response to that. Ciara’s family returned to watching Magnus suspiciously, and Magnus’s family couldn’t keep the pitying looks off their faces.
Finally, he broke the silence. “Susanna will show ye to yer rooms,” he addressed her family and then turned back to her. “A word, Ciara.”
* * *
Magnus resisted the urge to drag his betrothed to his side.
Instead, he stalked over to where she stood and gestured towards a side hallway. He still felt the stares of her family, but he didn’t care. In fact, he welcomed their suspicion, knowing they would always support and protect the woman he was going to marry tomorrow.
If she ever felt she needed protection from Magnus himself… well, he was glad she had it. He felt their eyes burn holes into his back, but he only had eyes for Ciara now.
Thankfully, she let him lead her out of the room, where they could have a moment alone. It was a risk, but he hoped if he could just talk to her, they could figure out a way to face tomorrow together—at least as partners.
Magnus waited until he heard Susanna ushering her family up to the guest chambers, before he began.
“I think we should talk,” he said quietly, both to put her at ease and to not be overheard.
“Aye, we should,” she agreed, matching his tone.
Well, at least they agreed on that much. He hoped the rest of the conversation would go as smoothly, but standing here now, he felt unsure.
“Are ye excited to see yer family again?” he asked, avoiding what they actually needed to discuss.
Ciara narrowed her eyes at him. “Aye, but that’s nae why ye pulled me over here.”
“Nay, nay, it’s nae.” He shook his head and then took a deep breath. “We are gettin’ married tomorrow.”
“Aye, we are,” she replied blandly, and he felt so dense stating the obvious, but he didn’t know how to start this conversation.
“How are ye feelin’ about that?” he finally asked.
Magnus had to put his hands behind his back, so Ciara wouldn’t see the way they shook with nerves. If she told him right now that she didn’t want to marry him, he would let her go. Or if living here with him was too much, they would marry in name only and she would return home with her family.
Whatever she wanted, Magnus would do his best to accommodate her. But he hoped—of course, he hoped—that she would want to stay here. He’d felt another pang of longing as he watched her parents interact, the way they deferred to each other and always found their way back to one another.
“Nervous,” Ciara finally admitted, in an even quieter voice.
“Nae scared?”
“Aye, that, too,” she replied.
“Of me?” he asked in a whisper, hardly able to get the words out.
If he thought his hands shook before, they were practically vibrating now. He wanted to pace, or dosomething. Just standing here for the seconds it took her to answer was tortuous…
“Nay, of course nae. Never of ye,” she assured him fiercely, reaching out to lay a hand on his bicep.
He met her gaze then, and he could see the truth in them. Her blue eyes were warm and sincere, but he needed just a few more reassurances.
“Even after our kiss?”
Ciara laughed then, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. “Even then,” she confirmed through her laughter.
Magnus let out a rough chuckle. Despite missing some of the humor, her laugh was infectious, and it alone seemed to coax a laugh out of him.
“Those were nerves as well, Me Laird,” she said when she’d finally quieted. “Ye make me nervous… but not in a bad way. I just dinnae ken how to act around ye sometimes.”
