The Bride Says Maybe by Cathy Maxwell Page A

were narrow windows close to the roofline that allowed for air.
    When she came out, she saw that the laird waited a respectful distance from the building. The dogs were gone, save for Daphne. The terrier appeared to have taken it upon herself to protect all from Tara.
    She barked and went running to the laird as if warning him.
    “She doesn’t like me,” Tara said to the laird as she approached. They stood on a stone-paved walkway that connected the castle to several outbuildings.
    He didn’t argue. “You’ve placed yourself on her bad side. Daphne can hold a grudge. She’ll forgive you by and by.”
    “She’s a dog, ” Tara felt she must point out.
    “And what does that have to do with anything?” he said, indicating with a nod for her to follow him.
    “A dog can’t have human emotions,” Tara explained.
    “Obviously they can. You just said you felt she doesn’t like you. Dislike is a human emotion.”
    Tara frowned, certain he was deliberately trying to vex her. He had to be upset about last night. She’d always heard men cared about the marriage act more than women. She’d overheard more than one matron complain as an explanation for a husband’s pouty mood.
    She skipped a step to catch up with him, putting her hand on his arm to beg him to stop for a moment.
    He turned.
    “I’m sorry last night didn’t go the way it should have.” There, she had apologized, and it was prettily done in her mind.
    “Do you think this is about me?”
    “Yes,” Tara answered, as if it was obvious.
    “Well, perhaps it is,” he said, facing her. “This is my home, my lady. I understand I am not your choice of a husband, but we have a bargain, one I regret making.”
    He would have walked away again, his haughty terrier leading the way, but Tara was not done. She tightened her hold on his arm.
    “You are being unfair,” she accused. “This is all new to me. You—” she started, ready to hurl a few choice comments about him and his dogs, but then thought better of it. What purpose would it serve?
    And she realized, her sister would have been proud to hear her bite her tongue. Aileen had set the example of a woman gracefully accepting responsibility for her own actions. Tara must act in that manner as well.
    “You must be patient,” she finished, covering up what she could have said. “Please.”
    She didn’t meet his eye as she added that last. He’d see what a struggle being contrite was for her.
    He reached down for her hand on his arm and gently held it in his own. He ran the pad of his thumb along the line of her nails. “This is all new to you. I imagine it is a bit of a comeuppance. It’s not London.”
    “Not yet.” She found the courage to meet his eye and was surprised that instead of being cold and gray as she’d originally thought, they were blue. A light blue.
    Their children would have blue eyes.
    The unbidden thought astonished her. Her mind had never traveled in that direction before, but it did now . . . with him.
    “So all is not lost?” she asked. A hint of her old self, the woman who could prettily command any man’s attention, was in her tone.
    And he responded to that woman. The iciness left his manner. “No, it is not lost at all. We shall do better with each other.” He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed the tips.
    A warmth spread through her, a response to being this close to him. He would not have been her first choice of a husband or her second or third—but he was the man she had married. They could do well together, at least until she left for her life in London.
    At their feet, Daphne sniffed her disdain, but Tara didn’t worry about her anymore. The laird was choosing her over his dogs. He might not realize it at this moment, but he had.
    “Come, you need something to eat.” He directed her toward the open door of the kitchen, which was attached to the main building. Perhaps at one time it had been separate, but one of the laird’s ancestors had seen fit