The Groom Wore Plaid: Highland Weddings (11 page)

“Not at all.”

“I was eighteen, Maggie. I was sad about Emily’s death, but relieved not to have to marry a woman I
didn’t choose. My education was my focus in those years, as it should have been.”

“Ye don’t have to convince me of that. I knew how little a marriage mattered to ye, and how little faith or trust ye had in me.”

He was not going to defend himself or his behavior again, especially since she was only trying to punish him. “It matters to me now. Only twenty-seven more days.”

She turned back to the water, revealing nothing in her unusual eyes. Looking at her slim back made him want to put his hands on her, feel the narrowness at her waist give rise to the curve of her hips. Time to distract himself.

“Did you enjoy the library this morn?” he asked.

She faced him again, then reluctantly said, “Not as much as I’d hoped. The room proves that my education was sorely lacking. I find little I can understand. But I’m not giving up,” she added sharply. “There’s a book on contracts I mean to decipher.”

“Go ahead. I won’t rescind your access to the library.”

She thought him a monster, forcing her to marry, handing out rules on a whim. Did she not care that
he
was being forced to marry, too, losing the right to name his own wife? But she wouldn’t take such a reminder kindly, he knew. He was irritated that she wasn’t settling into her role, accepting her new reality. Surely she understood the duty of a laird’s daughter.
But perhaps Cat was right, that he had much work to do if he wanted a comfortable marriage.

“A library was the one way I felt that my father did right by me,” Owen said. “I would never deny you such a privilege. I look forward to introducing you to more when we travel to London early next year.”

Those dark brows, so expressive, lowered again. “Travel to London?”

“I am a member of the House of Lords with my father’s death, and I must take my seat there. I think you’ll enjoy the city. Have you ever been there before?”

She shook her head. “Edinburgh is all I’ve known—all I need to know. I won’t be traveling to England.”

He ignored that, speaking patiently. “The sheer size of London will astound you, and it spreads outward every year. More than half a million people live there, and it continues to grow so much it might outpace the entire population of Scotland.”

“That is not possible,” she insisted.

“When we marry, you can come with me to find out. There are pleasure gardens to wander through, where globes light up the trees at night and people from all levels of society walk about masked. Every day men and women have great discussions in the coffeehouses about politics and philosophy and science. Is that what you’d like?”

“Ye cannot lure me into marriage with talk of foreign cities, Owen. Talk is an easy thing to use against a person, and not very successful.”

“You think I’m ‘using’ talk, as if I spout lies?” he demanded.

“I think ye talk to try to get what ye want. Regardless, I won’t be traveling to London. I’ll never leave Scotland for the land of the enemy.”

“It will be your duty as my countess.”

“Then ye’d better find another countess,” she said sweetly.

She moved to turn away and he took her upper arm, holding her close and leaning down. Their faces weren’t far apart.

“I never took you for someone so suspicious,” he said. “What happened to you, Maggie?”

“Life happens to all of us, Owen.
You
happened to me, too. Please release me so I don’t embarrass us both by pulling away.”

He was watching her mouth, and knew what she said, but once again he was caught up in the nearness of her, the lavender in her hair, the moistness of her lips. “Don’t distance yourself, lass,” he murmured. “Give this a chance.”

But he let her go.

M
AGGIE
was grateful for the group of horses that slowly wound their way back down the glen toward Castle Kinlochard. It helped her hide her dejection at having to refuse a trip to London. She’d spent her life longing to explore and learn about the world, but
going along with Owen’s plans would only make him think she would marry him.

All around her, men bragged or teased, women laughed, and Owen remained at the center of it, and yet apart, their laird. He did not seem the sort to have an easy way with his people, which still surprised her. The boy she’d known for those few weeks ten years ago would have been far more at ease. What had happened to him? It couldn’t simply be maturity and responsibility.

Over the next few days as Cat and her mother made preparations to leave, Maggie reluctantly spent time with them. If she wasn’t poring over the law book—confusing Cat but making Owen frown at her—she was sewing pieces of tattered lace and ugly trim to her plainest gowns. Once his family left, she’d be ready for the next part of her plan, making Owen lose his desire for her. Then at last he might try to help her find another way to satisfy the contract.

She spent her nights trying to have another dream. She used several methods: she stayed awake late, hoping exhaustion would trigger something; she made herself think about the dream constantly during the day; she even tried writing it down just before going to bed. Nothing worked. Each morning saw her more and more exhausted with her failure, and Cat watched her with worry.

And then came news of another fire, this one in
an uninhabited cottage. No one had been hurt, but it seemed the arsonist was taking a daring step closer to such a risk. Owen increased patrols throughout the countryside, but continued to publicly insist someone was only taunting him. She didn’t know what he privately thought, because she hadn’t asked him.

On the final night before his mother and sister were to leave, Owen followed Maggie to her room.

She put a hand on his chest, barring him from entering behind her. “Nay, go be with your family. Ye won’t be seeing them for some time.”

Fergus had followed, and now stood uncertainly at the end of the hall. He didn’t seem to know where to look, and ended up staring at the ceiling. Maggie would have laughed under other circumstances. She appreciated Fergus’s abilities as unaware chaperone.

Owen jerked his head at Fergus, who obediently stepped back down the corridor, out of sight. Owen leaned his forearm against the doorjamb above his head, which made almost a cozy tent for them to speak beneath.

With his thumb, he brushed her cheek. “You have circles beneath your eyes growing darker each day,” he said quietly. “Do not concern yourself about another fire or Martin Hepburn. I’ve talked to his neighbors. Martin might not get along well with people, but he’s never been accused of a crime. It’s hard to believe he’d start a fire on clan property.”

She nodded, holding the law book tightly to her
chest as a barrier against him. Her base thoughts lingered on the impressive width of his chest that gave evidence of his ability to fight anyone to protect his land and people.

“I will discover the truth, Maggie. I protect what’s mine.”

She felt suddenly trapped by the heat that smoldered in his dark eyes. Days of avoiding him only meant that his presence seemed to affect her even more. Exhaustion had sapped her ability to resist him. When he leaned down to kiss her, it took everything in her to let her mouth go slack. Her emotions rioted inside her, making parts of her ache in a way she hadn’t felt since . . . he’d kissed her ten years before.

He slanted his head and parted her lips with dogged determination, deepening the kiss. He caught her against him, and she shuddered, all her resolve dissolving, forcing her into a last desperate rebellion: she bit him.

He jerked his head up with a mild curse, and she quickly stepped into her room and closed the door against him.

“Sorry!” she called. “I just don’t ken how to do anything right.”

Eyes closed, body humming with awareness and need, she rested her head against the door and listened. The wood seemed to vibrate with his touch, but he only grumbled something and walked away.

T
HE
next morning, Owen knew the shadows beneath his own eyes might rival Maggie’s. He’d barely been able to sleep. The kiss he’d meant to seduce her with had caused him more than the pain of frustrated desire. He’d been shocked she’d bitten him. Why had he thought spunk and determination a good thing in a bride? But he reluctantly admitted that he didn’t want a weakling for a wife, and he certainly wasn’t getting one.

“You haven’t taken your eyes off the McCallum girl,” Lady Aberfoyle said.

He glanced down at his mother. They stood just inside the great hall, near where Maggie was giving Cat a friendly hug good-bye. And then Maggie disappeared down a corridor. She’d already made a formal curtsy to his mother, who hadn’t appreciated the gesture.

“Mother, we’re to be married,” he said, trying to keep his tone patient. “You’d have to be more worried if I was indifferent to her.”

“I do wish you’d reconsider and find another way to fulfill the contract. Do you know that in times past, these McCallum women actually made and sold thread in Edinburgh?” She sounded as aghast as if they’d offered their bodies on the street.

“I appreciate that they’re hardworking women trying to better their clan,” he said, an edge to his voice. “You certainly have had friends who’ve done the same. Life in Scotland is not always as easy for some as it is for us.”

“Easy? And do you think your father and I haven’t worked hard for this life we’ve given you?”

“You worked hard making sure Cat did not have to live under the marriage contract.”

Lady Aberfoyle flinched. “Your father kept things from me, you know that.”

“And I know you guessed some of what was happening, how Father was lying to Hugh McCallum about his betrothed. You and Father set this in motion. There’s no stopping it now.”

“Even if you wished to?” she said in a hesitant voice.

“I don’t wish to. I know my duty. Safe travels, Mother.”

He should have kissed her cheek, but instead he opened the door and led her outside to the stairs down to the courtyard. A dozen mounted men would guide the Duff women for the long day’s journey to Larig Castle.

A servant told him that Maggie was in the library, a place he knew she thought of as her refuge, outside of the room he’d given her. It was good that he had something to offer her that she cherished.

He stepped into the open door and saw Maggie seated at a table with two large books spread out before her. She looked up and regarded him soberly, saying nothing.

“Cat and my mother have left,” he said, stating the obvious.

She nodded, then lowered her gaze to the books
again, as if in dismissal. But just as he was about to demand her attention, she shoved the books away from her, until one teetered on the far edge of the table.

“Your sister has a knowledge of this library I envy,” she said tiredly. “I might not appreciate your mother, but I can be grateful on Cat’s behalf that your mother granted her the education I was never allowed.”

“Maggie—”

“Oh, they tried to give me a woman’s education,” she said with bitterness. “I can read and write. My mother tried to teach me to sew, to knit, but even playing the viol was difficult. I cannot hold a fan with any mastery.”

She was trying to convince him that she was a failure at the womanly arts, but he didn’t believe her. And then her expression turned sad, and her next words rang with truth.

“I cannot understand these books. I’ve never read literature before. I feel like the ignorant Highlander we’re always accused of being.”

“I don’t need a wife who comes to me knowing every one of life’s skills.” He was still angry that she was fighting a situation they both simply had to accept. It seemed illogical and flighty, not some of the good womanly attributes her mother had tried to instill in her. Why did she have to be so abnormal from other women—going on about childish dreams, threatening to break the vow she’d made to him? If he had to be married to a woman out of obligation, thank God that at least she sometimes amused him.

And there was always the promise of their wedding night. He allowed his gaze to drop below her face, lingering on her full breasts and narrow waist. Her hips were hidden from him, but not for long, a little over three weeks. He was counting down the days.

Maggie let out a noisy sigh. “I thought we were having a conversation about education, something supposedly so important to you, but instead your mind seems on—on—” She waved her hand between them.

“I was telling you what I preferred in a wife. This”—he waved his hand as she had—“is one of the things I definitely prefer.”

“I’ve already said I won’t marry ye!”

Owen knew she loved her brother, and that saving Hugh’s life and honor was why she’d agreed to the betrothal in the first place. Their marriage would save lives wasted in a needless feud—her clan would still have access to their prized land, where they’d been sharing the perfect ingredients for the whisky that had been making both clans coin ever since the marriage contract had been signed at Cat’s birth.

And yet Maggie kept insisting that a dream of his death was making her reject the best solution to satisfy the contract. He’d be flattered that she cared about his well-being, if he wasn’t so frustrated.

“Maggie, I’m not going to discuss our marriage again. It will happen and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

“I can refuse to say the vows.”

“In front of both our families, whom we’re protecting with this farce of a marriage?”

She flinched.

“Let’s return to your education. I can work with you on your studies, answering questions, explaining things. It won’t be long before you’ll be learning from every book in this library—including that one on contracts.”

She watched him with suspicion. “And . . . ?”

“And we’ll have time to discover each other as adults instead the foolish youths we once were.”
You’ll learn to trust me.

“Ye mean the foolish youth
you
once were.”

He’d been sailing through the calm waters of his life, challenged by little, mastering everything he tried. But Maggie was a storm blowing in, one that a captain could stand on the deck and face with bold challenge.