Iain sipped his wine, untroubled by their ridicule. “Tell me,” he said, looking at Royce, “what did ye think of Eve the first time ye met her?”
Royce’s laughter died abruptly, replaced by a guarded expression. “That does nae have anything to do with—”
“Just answer me,” Iain interrupted, his tone gentle but firm.
Royce sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. I thought she was the most aggravating, stubborn Englishwoman I’d ever met. She defied me at every turn, argued about everything, and made me want to bellow with frustration.”
“And now?”
A reluctant smile softened Royce’s stern features. “Now I kinnae imagine my life without her fire.”
Iain nodded, turning to Brus. “And ye, my son? What was yer first impression of Sebille?”
Brus snorted into his wine. “That she was too clever by half, with a tongue sharp enough to cut stone and a will to match.” Hisexpression grew wistful. “I was right, and I am grateful for every day with her.”
“Rolland?” Iain prompted.
His son-in-law shifted uncomfortably. “Elena tested my will like it had nae ever been tested before, and I’m thankful each morning I wake up to have such a strong lass by my side. Life would be boring with another.”
Iain nodded. “I watched Rory Matheson’s face when Lillith crashed into him, when she defied him, when she admitted to shooting him with nae a hint of remorse. There was anger there, aye—but there was something else too. Something he himself may nae recognize yet.”
The room fell silent as the men considered his words.
“Ye truly think he was drawn to her?” Royce asked, incredulity still evident in his tone.
“I think,” Iain said carefully, “that passion often masks itself as other emotions when we’re nae ready to acknowledge it. Anger, frustration, even dislike. Those emotions are all closer kin to desire than indifference could ever be.” He thought of Marion, of the fire that still burned between them after all these years, even when they quarreled as they were doing now. “The marriages that last, that truly thrive, are nae the ones where peace is constant. That’s dull. Marriages that last have a flame that does nae ever die out.”
Brus chuckled, raising his goblet in a toast. “To my da, taking up matchmaker in his dotage.”
“Mama will be verra pleased,” Royce said.
Iain winked. “I certainly hope so.”
Royce regarded him for a long moment, but he finally nodded. “Eve will be pleased too, and that will hopefully cool her ire that this is happening at all.”
“Da,” Royce said, “what if ye’re wrong? If after two fortnights, Lillith still wishes him dead, and he still prefers Lenora?”
“Then at least we gavethemthe chance to choose with open eyes,” Iain replied, thinking of Marion’s fervent belief in choice, especially for women. His wife would approve of his maneuvering, he was certain.
“The man may think he wants a docile wife, but did any of us ken what we really wanted?”
A chorus of ‘nays’ came his way, making him chuckle. Marion had transformed his life from one of duty and obligation to one rich with passion and joy, even amidst their arguments. He wanted such a marriage for his granddaughters, arranged or not, if possible.
“May the gods above help the poor Rory Matheson,” Brus said, raising his cup once more. “I’ve nae any idea what our women are away plotting to do to him, but did ye see their faces?”
“Aye,” Iain immediately responded. “And ye are correct. May the gods above help Rory. I’d wager he has nae idea yet just what a formidable opponent a woman can be.”
Chapter Five
Lillith stormed into her bedchamber and slammed the door. Then she stalked across the room and dropped onto her bed. Rory Matheson was insufferable, arrogant, and maddening! She lay back and stared up at the canopy, her chest heaving with indignation. The bed dipped suddenly as Masie leapt up beside her and put her enormous, fluffy, white paws on either side of Lillith’s shoulders. The beast thrust her snout into Lillith’s face and began lapping enthusiastically at her cheeks.
“Masie, cease!” Lillith sputtered, pushing the hound’s muzzle away even as a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “Ye’re making me wet, ye great daft beast.” Despite her protest, she buried her fingers in Masie’s thick fur, finding comfort in the familiar warmth and weight of her companion.
Masie settled beside her and cocked her head to one side as if listening intently while Lillith stroked her ears.
“Did ye see him, Masie?” Lillith muttered, unwillingly recalling Rory’s handsome yet infuriating face. “Standing there all high and mighty after I crashed into him, looking at me as if I were mud on his boots.” She dropped her voice to a mockingly deep tone and pulled her face into what she imagined was a fair approximation of his scowl. “Ye pulled me down! Ye’re a reckless woman!”
Masie whuffed softly, her dark eyes fixed on Lillith’s face.
