Page 41 of Return of the Scot
And she’d be able to kiss him whenever she wanted… Still, this was a terrible idea. A really bad idea. The man had been betrothed to her sister, and that had ended very badly on both sides. All of society thought he’d fathered her sister’s bastard and abandoned her—not only because Shanna had said it, but because he’d never discredited her either. If Jaime agreed to marry him, goodness, she’d likely lose more than half her clientele. They would think her unreliable, disrespectful.
Not to mention what Shanna would think. Despite having lied about their situation, she had to have wanted to get even with the duke for something, right? Nay, Jaime could not marry him. Absolutely not. Marrying him was the very last thing on earth she should ever do. Even if kissing him had been glorious.
“Nay. I can no’. Now please, leave my carriage.”
His mouth turned down in disappointment, and she wanted so badly to tell him that she’d misspoken, that she would marry him, that her clients would understand, and so would Shanna, but that was nonsense and dangerous. Marrying him would be a betrayal to Shanna, to Gordie, to herself. Kissing him had been a step too far already. There was so much at risk for her to fall for a rogue’s charm..
“Perhaps ye should think on it for a night before ye answer,” he suggested, ever the stubborn duke used to getting what he wanted. Well, that wasn’t fair either, because she was certain he hadn’t wanted to be imprisoned for two years, nor have his family seat sold out from under him. Oh, but there she went again, going soft on him.
“I do no’ need to think about it. My answer is no.” She held her head high, hoping he would see that she, too, could be stubborn.
“Just as ye said no to coming to the ball.”
He had a point there. “I came for answers, which ye gave me.”
“Aye, I did. And now I’m giving ye something else—an offer of marriage.”
“Not interested.”
Lorne smiled. “Ah, aye, ye did mention ye were Jaime Hardheaded Andrewson. I’ll find ye tomorrow.” And then he was slipping out of her carriage and hurrying back into his house, leaving her speechless. Her mouth dry. Her body heavy.
She tapped the roof of the carriage, her gaze on the front of his house as he disappeared inside. The ride back to her flat was a blur. And when she stripped out of her clothes, took out the pins from her hair, all she could do was think of Lorne and the way he’d kissed her, the promise in the intensity of his stare, and his offer of marriage.
Marry me.
Even the splash of cold water on her face did nothing to dispel the desire he’d ignited or the questions lurching ceaselessly through her brain. It was not the proposal she’d dreamed of as a lass. Nothing romantic about it at all. He’d barged into her carriage and demanded she wed him. Taunted her with the fact that she’d already changed her mind once with him. Didn’t he understand what a bad idea it was for the two of them to wed? The number of complications it would bring about was immeasurable. And one tiny little kiss couldn’t erase all the headaches that would come with it.
Despite what Lorne had told Jaime, her sister’s story had never changed. She’d always painted Lorne in a devious light as the seducer who had ruined her and left her with a child and a tattered reputation.
If Jaime were to announce that she was marrying him, her sister would be devastated. Heartbroken. Maybe not because her excuses had been true, but because Jaime had gone behind her back and would be publicly rebuking her sister’s claims or casting them aside as their parents had done.
But Jaime believed Lorne. Trusting his word meant that all this time, Shanna had been deceiving the world. And more importantly, deceiving Jaime.
How could her sister be heartbroken over someone she’d destroyed? Because that was the truth of the matter, wasn’t it? Shanna had been willing to destroy a man for her gain. And what gain that had been, Jaime couldn’t figure out. Their parents had disowned her, and she’d lived exiled in Ireland until Jaime fetched her back to Scotland.
All of the information she’d found out tonight brought Jaime no closer to figuring out where her sister was now, for she’d not run away afraid that Lorne might take her child.
Jaime climbed into bed, sinking onto the soft linen sheets, curling her arm around a pillow, her body tired but her mind fully awake.
As she was sinking into sleep, her eyes popped open. The thing that had been tickling at the back of her mind all night but had yet to come to the surface, finally decided to peek its head out. If Lorne was telling the truth, and Gordie wasn’t his son, then how did he look just like him?
10
Frigid water splashed on her face and two cups of tea did nothing to wake Jaime after a terrible night’s sleep. So with eyes only marginally less puffy than when she’d finally given up and climbed out of bed to dress, she walked into her office at the wharf feeling very much worse for wear.
Emilia was already present and leapt to her feet, shoving her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. “Miss Andrewson, good morning.”
Her clerk’s eyes lit up behind the glassy spheres with questions, no doubt wanting to hear all about the night before, but Jaime’s mind was still tied up in as many knots as it was when she’d lay down to sleep. Like a bunch of yarn, given to a kitten to play with. She was the yarn, and Lorne was the demon kitten.
His proposal. Well, if one could call that a proposal. It had been more like a demand. She didn’t even ask for her tea the way he’d said, “Marry me.” What would her household staff say if she started going around saying things like, “Tea me,” and “Dress me,” and “Carriage me.” They’d think her a brute or neanderthal, not a lady or a respectable mistress.
Then, of course, also plaguing her was the other discovery she’d made—that if Gordie wasn’t Lorne’s son and yet looked like him, there was only one other alternative—a male relative. And she didn’t think it had anything to do with the old Duke of Sutherland, long in his grave. But Gille, Lorne’s younger half-brother, who’d been so eager to unload the castle on her, especially when she said she was going to gift it to her sister—he was a viable key.
Before leaving for the wharf, Jaime had sent out a hasty note to Mr. Bell. He needed to know what she’d learned from Lorne, as well as the questions she now had swirling about in her brain. Best for her investigator to be informed and get his men on the same page. Knowing such details might even change the direction they were headed with their search, and hopefully, they’d find Shanna and Gordie sooner. Jaime wanted answers, and she wanted them now.
Jaime snapped out of her head long enough to reply—relatively late—to her clerk. “Good morning, Emilia.”
Emilia’s brow wrinkled. “Ye look exhausted. Did ye dance all night?” The wistfulness on her clerk’s face was too much to dismiss.
