history betwixt you."
"Nay, ‘tis utter nonsense,” he muttered. Even if the woman was of a mind, she was a lady. One entrusted to his care, not to his bed.
"Innes has a point, though,” Michael said. “'Twill be difficult convincing others, those you know, that you married the lass."
"Innes did not appear too shocked,” he muttered, not believing a word out of his own mouth. She'd been very shocked. She may even have suspected it was a lie, her wink at their parting making him pause. “We will continue the farce. ‘Tis for her safety and reputation."
Michael eyed him. “If you were tae marry, ‘tis Mistress Maxwell the sort of lass you'd choose?"
Ian looked back at the lady riding silently behind them. If he had a choice of all the women he currently knew and had ever known would she be among them?
He looked forward at the road, his jaw growing tired with his incessant clenching. “She is lovely, strong, intelligent, and determined, but nay. She and I would not suit,” he admitted, hating the taste of truth on his tongue. Her stubborn nature, her need to live an orderly settled life, per Amelia's descriptions, was not for him, was not the sort of woman he could come to love. And, although he hated to admit it, he wasn't good enough for her.
Michael handed Ian the lead rein. “Then I suggest, Master Southernland that you leave the lass well alone, for she isna of the same mind.” He fell back beside Jenny and chatted about Fiona and some of the sights they'd see in Edinburgh and the type of gift he should search for.
The lad was right about him leaving her well alone, but did he truly mean that she had feelings for him? Ian couldn't believe such a thing. Her jealousy, if it was truly that, did not necessarily mean she cared for him.
Still it made him wonder.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Seven
The day dragged on and Ian and Jenny barely spoke a word to one another. She was furious with herself for letting him make her feel this way. If he just hadn't complimented her, then she would've been able to forget all about him.
Do you enjoy lying to yourself, Jen?
"Oh shut-up,” she mumbled.
"What's that, lass?” Michael asked.
"Nothing. I was just thinking out loud."
He chuckled and rode up beside Ian. She had the distinct impression that he was laughing at her, but wasn't sure what could possibly be so funny. They're trip had been anything but humorous. And it was all Ian Southernland's fault ... and that farm girl.
"Stop it,” she huffed softly.
"I'm thinkin’ we need tae stop for a wee rest,” Michael told Ian with a nod in her direction.
Ian looked back at her, and she could only assume, with a fierce frown. He sighed heavily and halted their little parade. It was just as well, her rear-end was numb and her stomach was grumbling.
Ian appeared beside her, his arms lifted to help her down.
"I can get down on my own, thank you,” she said, and prayed her horse wouldn't move while she attempted it.
"As you wish,” he said and stepped back.
With very little grace and no skill, Jenny grasped the pommel with both hands, lifted her leg over the saddle, and slowly lowered her foot to the ground before removing the other one from the stirrup. Only problem was there was no ground! And her skirts were riding higher and higher as she frantically wiggled her foot in search of it. Then her horse decided he'd had enough of her gymnastics and danced sideways.
Clutching the saddle as tightly as she could, she was about to let out a screech, when firm strong arms slid beneath her legs and around her back. She was once again in the single place she most wanted to be and should not be—in Ian Southernland's arms.
"Stubborn woman,” he muttered.
She shot him her hottest glare as a few choice words developed on her tongue.
"Brave, but stubborn,” he said, and strolled toward the trees with her still in his arms, her few choice words forgotten.
Another compliment. And yes, she thought with a
"Nay, ‘tis utter nonsense,” he muttered. Even if the woman was of a mind, she was a lady. One entrusted to his care, not to his bed.
"Innes has a point, though,” Michael said. “'Twill be difficult convincing others, those you know, that you married the lass."
"Innes did not appear too shocked,” he muttered, not believing a word out of his own mouth. She'd been very shocked. She may even have suspected it was a lie, her wink at their parting making him pause. “We will continue the farce. ‘Tis for her safety and reputation."
Michael eyed him. “If you were tae marry, ‘tis Mistress Maxwell the sort of lass you'd choose?"
Ian looked back at the lady riding silently behind them. If he had a choice of all the women he currently knew and had ever known would she be among them?
He looked forward at the road, his jaw growing tired with his incessant clenching. “She is lovely, strong, intelligent, and determined, but nay. She and I would not suit,” he admitted, hating the taste of truth on his tongue. Her stubborn nature, her need to live an orderly settled life, per Amelia's descriptions, was not for him, was not the sort of woman he could come to love. And, although he hated to admit it, he wasn't good enough for her.
Michael handed Ian the lead rein. “Then I suggest, Master Southernland that you leave the lass well alone, for she isna of the same mind.” He fell back beside Jenny and chatted about Fiona and some of the sights they'd see in Edinburgh and the type of gift he should search for.
The lad was right about him leaving her well alone, but did he truly mean that she had feelings for him? Ian couldn't believe such a thing. Her jealousy, if it was truly that, did not necessarily mean she cared for him.
Still it made him wonder.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Seven
The day dragged on and Ian and Jenny barely spoke a word to one another. She was furious with herself for letting him make her feel this way. If he just hadn't complimented her, then she would've been able to forget all about him.
Do you enjoy lying to yourself, Jen?
"Oh shut-up,” she mumbled.
"What's that, lass?” Michael asked.
"Nothing. I was just thinking out loud."
He chuckled and rode up beside Ian. She had the distinct impression that he was laughing at her, but wasn't sure what could possibly be so funny. They're trip had been anything but humorous. And it was all Ian Southernland's fault ... and that farm girl.
"Stop it,” she huffed softly.
"I'm thinkin’ we need tae stop for a wee rest,” Michael told Ian with a nod in her direction.
Ian looked back at her, and she could only assume, with a fierce frown. He sighed heavily and halted their little parade. It was just as well, her rear-end was numb and her stomach was grumbling.
Ian appeared beside her, his arms lifted to help her down.
"I can get down on my own, thank you,” she said, and prayed her horse wouldn't move while she attempted it.
"As you wish,” he said and stepped back.
With very little grace and no skill, Jenny grasped the pommel with both hands, lifted her leg over the saddle, and slowly lowered her foot to the ground before removing the other one from the stirrup. Only problem was there was no ground! And her skirts were riding higher and higher as she frantically wiggled her foot in search of it. Then her horse decided he'd had enough of her gymnastics and danced sideways.
Clutching the saddle as tightly as she could, she was about to let out a screech, when firm strong arms slid beneath her legs and around her back. She was once again in the single place she most wanted to be and should not be—in Ian Southernland's arms.
"Stubborn woman,” he muttered.
She shot him her hottest glare as a few choice words developed on her tongue.
"Brave, but stubborn,” he said, and strolled toward the trees with her still in his arms, her few choice words forgotten.
Another compliment. And yes, she thought with a
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