Page 49 of Taming the Scot
All at once, the thing he’d been avoiding thinking about, the thing he’d been avoiding putting words to, was there front and center in his brain. There was no other choice. He was a fool for having not made up his mind before. Or rather, admitting to himself that he’d made up his mind. Making a move on that decision…
“I need another,” Euan said, holding out his cup for a refill. “I think I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
The men stilled, their heads swiveling toward the woman in question, and the rose tinge of her cheeks deepened. Bronwen knew they were talking about her now. Euan wanted to go over there this instant, bend down on one knee, declare his love and ask her to marry him. The whisky was probably helping with that.
“Right now,” he said.
But Lorne put a bracing hand on her shoulder. “Nay, man. Give her a minute to acclimate. And do no’ do it so suddenly.”
“Why no’?” Euan asked.
“Because it should be special,” Lorne explained. “This will be the most important decision she’s had to make.”
Euan wasn’t so certain about that. Bronwen wasn’t the type of woman who’d sat at home waiting for a husband. She’d worked. She’d had to deal with more things than he could imagine. She’d run. It was certainly not the most important decision she’d have to make but probably ranked in the top five to ten.
“Aye,” Alec agreed. “Lasses like things to be special.”
That Euan did agree with. “How did ye ask?” he inquired of his friends.
Lorne started to chuckle and shake his head.
Euan pierced him with a stare. “Tell me.”
“Well…I sort of asked her until she finally gave in.” Lorne ran a hand through his hair. “She denied me. A lot.”
Alec started to laugh then too, slapping Lorne on the back. “Thank God ye did no’ give up.”
“Wore her down,” Malcolm said with mock disappointment and a shake of his head.
“And ye?” Euan asked Alec.
Alec grimaced and sucked in a breath through his teeth. “No’ much better. I suggested a pretend marriage, and things sort of fell into place.”
Euan refrained from smacking his forehead. “The lot of ye are lost causes, and I can no’ hound her day after day about a pretend marriage. Ye know the stakes. She needs to love me.”
“I do no’ see ye having any problems with that, my friend.”
Euan glanced back toward the women, where Bronwen was making a valiant attempt not to look at him. He felt the same way. He was struggling not to look, but all he wanted to do was stare. He wanted to go over there, talk to her or stand near her.
“No’ on my end, at least,” Euan said, his chest swelling at the idea of the woman sitting there being his forever. Of many more moments of their friends gathered like this. He turned back to them. “I could use a boxing session before dinner, I think. A lot is going on in my head, and I need a good sweat. Or a beating. Probably both.”
“Me too,” Malcolm said.
“As long as my wife says it is all right,” Lorne said. “But I think she will shoo us out faster than we can blink. This is the first real hosting she’s done since birthing our son.”
“How is the bairn?” Euan asked.
“Hale and hearty. Lungs like a lion and eats like a sailor. But we love him. He’s adorable and definitely a mama’s lad.”
The men chuckled and offered their congratulations before returning to the topic at hand—who should ask if they could go box before dinner.
“Ye ask,” Alec said to Lorne, looking worried. “Giselle just gifted me with this frockcoat, and she’ll think I do no’ appreciate it if I toss it off. She’s been quite…emotional lately.”
Lorne shook his head with an exaggerated grimace. “I think it should be Euan. Jaime has always had a softer spot for him, as all the lasses do.”
“I can no’ ask,” Euan said. “I do no’ want Bronwen to think I’m escaping her.”
Malcolm gave a great sigh and shook his head at each of them. “I’ll do it.”
