have helped if Maggie planned to jump right into marriage. But perhaps it would be best if those who loved Owen the most weren’t around when Maggie played the incompetent bride and forced Owen to publicly end the engagement.
C HAPTER 6
A fter crossing the narrows and back, Owen came out of the water close enough to the front of the group to feel satisfied, to show he wasn’t the most powerful, that he was one of them. Several women cheered, and he nodded to them. When they giggled and waved, he looked down at himself and thought it was time for his plaid to cover the soaked shirt before he gave the women ideas.
Fergus followed him up the rocky embankment, wringing water out of his shirt, flashing a lot of flank. “I’ll fetch your garments, my lord.”
“I know where they are. Go find your own, Fergus.”
He’d lost the leather tie from his queue in the loch, and was brushing his hair out of his face when he saw Maggie talking with his sister. So Maggie had come to watch. He hadn’t told her about the contest, but couldn’t be surprised his sister had. Had Cat dragged Maggie along? He found his garments where he’d leftthem and, surprised by the good-natured taunts of the men he’d beaten, tried to respond in kind. Such banter didn’t come easily to him. He was a serious man focused on serious research, including preparation for his first session in Parliament next year. But this was his clan; these were the men he’d lead into battle if it became necessary. He was determined to know them better.
But all the while he dressed and bantered, he kept glancing at Maggie. Once he caught her staring. She quickly turned away, and he felt the satisfaction of knowing he unsettled her. To his surprise, his sister turned away quickly, too, a sure sign of guilt. What was Cat doing to feel guilty about?
“Mistress Maggie,” called a round-faced young woman near the fire. “Come have some oatcakes.”
Maggie hurried away, and Owen was able to catch up to his sister—who still didn’t meet his gaze.
“Cat, is something amiss?” he asked. “Who is that woman with Maggie?”
Not that he was looking at Cat as he spoke. He was watching Maggie, who wore a smile he hadn’t seen in ten years, as she broke apart an oatcake, then blew on her fingers. Her hair was tight to her head, but he was remembering the wavy curls of her girlhood, the curls he’d once spread upon the ground and admired.
“That’s Kathleen, the maid assigned to her,” Cat said.
He’d almost forgotten his own question, so engrossedhad he been with Maggie and his memories. “So that’s Kathleen,” he murmured. “She doesn’t look much like her brother.”
“She did when she first arrived,” Cat mused, “but she’s had a hard time adjusting to life here. Their deprivation in the colonies has made her . . . overly hungry here. Mrs. Robertson and I thought it would be good for both her and Maggie to be with someone else who’s a newcomer.”
“Speaking of Maggie, I should thank you for bringing her down today. I looked in on her before I left, and she was so engrossed in the library that she didn’t hear me. I left her in peace.”
“Perhaps you should have intruded,” Cat said, eyeing Maggie with worry. “She seems . . . unsettled. You need to be alone with her, so I’ve decided to take our mother and go visit Hugh and Riona for several weeks.”
Owen regarded his sister with surprise. “Have you told Maggie?”
“I have.”
“And she didn’t beg to accompany you?”
Cat winced. “It’s as bad as all that?”
“Almost. She’s not happy about the marriage.”
“I suspected as much, even though she agreed to marry you.”
“Agreement isn’t quite the same thing as gladness and excitement.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be all that glad to marry a manI hadn’t seen in ten years. But Maggie seems a brave woman, and I admire her. I want her to be happy, and perhaps she can be, if you give her time. Woo her, Owen. Treat
C HAPTER 6
A fter crossing the narrows and back, Owen came out of the water close enough to the front of the group to feel satisfied, to show he wasn’t the most powerful, that he was one of them. Several women cheered, and he nodded to them. When they giggled and waved, he looked down at himself and thought it was time for his plaid to cover the soaked shirt before he gave the women ideas.
Fergus followed him up the rocky embankment, wringing water out of his shirt, flashing a lot of flank. “I’ll fetch your garments, my lord.”
“I know where they are. Go find your own, Fergus.”
He’d lost the leather tie from his queue in the loch, and was brushing his hair out of his face when he saw Maggie talking with his sister. So Maggie had come to watch. He hadn’t told her about the contest, but couldn’t be surprised his sister had. Had Cat dragged Maggie along? He found his garments where he’d leftthem and, surprised by the good-natured taunts of the men he’d beaten, tried to respond in kind. Such banter didn’t come easily to him. He was a serious man focused on serious research, including preparation for his first session in Parliament next year. But this was his clan; these were the men he’d lead into battle if it became necessary. He was determined to know them better.
But all the while he dressed and bantered, he kept glancing at Maggie. Once he caught her staring. She quickly turned away, and he felt the satisfaction of knowing he unsettled her. To his surprise, his sister turned away quickly, too, a sure sign of guilt. What was Cat doing to feel guilty about?
“Mistress Maggie,” called a round-faced young woman near the fire. “Come have some oatcakes.”
Maggie hurried away, and Owen was able to catch up to his sister—who still didn’t meet his gaze.
“Cat, is something amiss?” he asked. “Who is that woman with Maggie?”
Not that he was looking at Cat as he spoke. He was watching Maggie, who wore a smile he hadn’t seen in ten years, as she broke apart an oatcake, then blew on her fingers. Her hair was tight to her head, but he was remembering the wavy curls of her girlhood, the curls he’d once spread upon the ground and admired.
“That’s Kathleen, the maid assigned to her,” Cat said.
He’d almost forgotten his own question, so engrossedhad he been with Maggie and his memories. “So that’s Kathleen,” he murmured. “She doesn’t look much like her brother.”
“She did when she first arrived,” Cat mused, “but she’s had a hard time adjusting to life here. Their deprivation in the colonies has made her . . . overly hungry here. Mrs. Robertson and I thought it would be good for both her and Maggie to be with someone else who’s a newcomer.”
“Speaking of Maggie, I should thank you for bringing her down today. I looked in on her before I left, and she was so engrossed in the library that she didn’t hear me. I left her in peace.”
“Perhaps you should have intruded,” Cat said, eyeing Maggie with worry. “She seems . . . unsettled. You need to be alone with her, so I’ve decided to take our mother and go visit Hugh and Riona for several weeks.”
Owen regarded his sister with surprise. “Have you told Maggie?”
“I have.”
“And she didn’t beg to accompany you?”
Cat winced. “It’s as bad as all that?”
“Almost. She’s not happy about the marriage.”
“I suspected as much, even though she agreed to marry you.”
“Agreement isn’t quite the same thing as gladness and excitement.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be all that glad to marry a manI hadn’t seen in ten years. But Maggie seems a brave woman, and I admire her. I want her to be happy, and perhaps she can be, if you give her time. Woo her, Owen. Treat
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