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, butgoing 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 inan uninhabited cottage. No one had been hurt, but it seemed the arsonist was taking a daring step closer to such a risk.
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, butgoing 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 inan uninhabited cottage. No one had been hurt, but it seemed the arsonist was taking a daring step closer to such a risk.
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