‘Nay. He is my brother Ewan’s, but I adore him. Rufus!’ she called.
The hound barked a reply and chased after the birds that had long disappeared. ‘Leave the poor dears alone.’
She laughed and her touch lightened along his arm. Rory smiled. When was the last time he felt this relaxed?
He couldn’t remember, which made him uneasy.
‘Did you enjoy the dinner?’ she asked.
‘Not really, but that is a reflection of me and my distaste for formal events more than anything else.’
She chuckled. ‘Nor did I.’
‘You pretended quite well.’
‘Aye, as did you.’ She stopped as they reached the loch’s edge, removing her hand from his arm. Her shoulders rose as she took in a deep breath and released it, crossing her arms against her chest. ‘But surely that is not what you came to discuss with me.’
He could have answered, but he didn’t.
‘You should know that I fear...’ She stared out into the distance. ‘I fear I will not be a good wife to you. I was never quite as good at it as I thought I’d be despite how much I believed I loved Peter the day we married. I did not enjoy...’ She paused again and a flush filled her cheeks. ‘Many of my wifely duties. I wish my next marriage to be more contractual, an agreement to serve each other for what we need and require of one another. Nothing else. So, if you would tell me what would be required of me as your wife, before we discuss a possible arrangement any further, I would appreciate it.’
DearGod.She spoke of marriage like it was akin to going before the gallows.
But he’d never been married before, had he? Perhaps it was.
He swallowed hard, holding her turquoise gaze, wanting to be clear, honest, and yet not make things sound any worse than they would be. He cleared his throat, nesting his hands in the pockets of his trews. ‘As you know, my main goal in this marriage is to...achieve an heir...before I pass, which, of course—’ he paused again, shifting on his feet ‘—would require your participation. Other than that, and your fidelity to me while I am alive, I am happy to leave you to your own whims to create what happiness you can.’
She studied him, cocking her head to the side. ‘You would allow me the choice of where to occupy my time outside of such evening—’ she rolled her eyes heavenward ‘—requirements?’
‘Aye. Unless you wished to spend more time with me, of course.’ He tugged at the sleeve of his coat. Had he ever had a more awkward conversation? The silence stretched out. But there was more to say and he intended to say it. ‘And what are your terms, Mrs Fraser?’
‘’Tis odd to think upon. No one has ever asked me before.’
‘A shame.’ How many of her thoughts, ideas and opinions had gone unexpressed? More than he dared imagine.
She cut her gaze to him. ‘May I have my own chambers?’
‘Of course, as long as you promise your fidelity. Blackmore is rather large. No concern there.’
Her head lifted a tad higher. ‘And may I have a small patch of garden? I have longed to grow my own plants and flowers.’
‘Aye.’
She rubbed her hands together, a dare reaching her eyes. ‘And may I read whatever I wish?’
Unable to stop himself, he took another step. The smell of her, some combination of rose and dew, tantalised him, drawing him closer still, until he stood but a whisper from her body, his coat brushing along her cloak. He could kiss her right now, press his lips to the soft full pink wonders on her face, and taste her. But he wouldn’t, not until he was certain of their arrangement. Certain of her.
‘Aye. I’ve an impressive library,’ he answered. ‘All of the books are yours for the taking.’
Her eyes glittered in the yawning light, her mouth parting before she shuddered. ‘I believe we have an agreement.’
‘Well then, Mrs Fraser, will you be my wife?’
Her chest rose and fell, her words falling in a breathy whisper of an answer. ‘Aye, Laird McKenna, I will.’
And there it was.
Moira had dreamed of finding herself a husband of her own choosing before the end of the tournament, and she’d found the perfect one: a man who wouldn’t live for long. Yet, now she stood dazed, staring at him, with the sun glowing around his tall form and dark features, as if he were a Celtic god of the past. Now she wasn’t sure this union with Laird McKenna was such a great idea. The last thing she wanted was for her next marriage to be complicated by feelings of any sort. It should be a transaction, an exchange of goods and services mutually agreed upon. Nothing more.
