“The lass is an islander. You should ken she’s hardier than she looks,” King Robert grinned. “And if it wasn’t life on the isles, then surviving Lathan and life among the other ladies here that has thickened her skin.”
“With the queen’s permission and Lady Abigail’s agreement, I would ask for opportunities to spend time with Lady Abigail,” Ronan requested.
“I am sure that can be arranged. When will you speak to her?”
Ronan considered that and forced himself not to shrug. “Truthfully, Your Majesty, I don’t know. I can’t count on her to appear if I get lost. And I wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to approach her in front of others.”
“Come to my antechamber by the Great Hall before this evening’s meal. I will ensure Lady Abigail meets with you, and you may discover if she’s interested,” King Robert stated. Ronan said his thanks and bowed when the king dismissed him. He spent the rest of the afternoon trying to decide what to say.
Six
Abigail broke away from the ladies moving toward the Great Hall and made her way to the royal couple’s antechamber. She’d received notice that her presence was expected by the king and queen before the evening meal. She must have appeared terrified because Queen Elizabeth cooed and reassured her that she had caused no trouble; in fact, the queen alluded to a potential suitor. As Abigail drew closer to the doors, she wondered who awaited her. She thought of Ronan and how they’d briefly encountered each other throughout the four days since she led him to the Privy Council chamber. She wondered if it was by design or merely coincidence.
Abigail realized the man Sarah Anne and Margaret Hay had gossiped about the previous week was the man who kept crawling into her mind. He was courteous each time they met, but he was still so much shyer than she was used to. It was clear to anyone that he was muscular and agile, and he carried himself with the ease of someone able to defend himself. But Abigail wasn’t interested in a man who couldn’t match her resolve and fortitude. She didn’t want a man who couldn’t hold his own against her should they disagree.
But his handsome face and that body make up for quite a bit. He’s braw and looks like he could carry me to bed any night. Would he? Or would he whisper his request and then retreat while he waits for me to decide? I dinna want a mon like Lathan, who used his size to intimidate me, but I dinna want to feel like I’m—what? What is it that I dinna want to feel? Too dominant? I suppose I want to feel like he wouldnae hesitate to rush into the fray to protect me. I want to feel feminine beside him. But I also want him to hear me, really hear me, and respect me. I dinna bluidy well ken what I want. Or at least I dinna ken how to say it even to maself.
Abigail waited for a guard to open the door for her, then stepped inside. She blinked several times as she glanced around the room. Ronan stood near the fireplace, one arm leaning against the bricks above the fire. He peered into the flames as his arm supported his weight. Other than two guards, there was no one else in the chamber. She felt her unease grow as she realized her only chaperones were the guards. Did people assume that because she wasn’t a maiden, she no longer required a chaperone? She didn’t fear Ronan. She realized that she knew within her bones that he would never hurt her, but that didn’t mean her reputation wouldn’t be in tatters. On silent feet, she walked further into the room. Abigail couldn’t tell if Ronan sensed her or she moved into his peripheral vision, but he straightened and turned to her. They stood staring at one another.
Ronan knew he must speak first, but he found himself unable while Abigail stood before him. He’d seen her attired in her evening finery before, but he’d never paid attention to the intricate beading on her clothing. Now he absorbed every detail. Her beauty overwhelmed him, and he found himself unsure that anything he could say would appeal enough for her to agree to at least courting. As the seconds dragged on, Ronan’s mind warred with itself about whether he should pursue Abigail. When he feared she would turn around and walk out if he didn’t speak, he stepped forward and held out his hand for her to place hers above. When her palm hovered over his, he made the brazen decision to wrap his fingers and thumb lightly around the sides and bring her hand to his lips. He pressed the lightest and briefest of kisses to her skin, but they both felt it.
“Lady Abigail, I will confess that your appearance leaves me speechless,” Ronan admitted. He’d decided the first time they met he would be honest with her rather than make excuses. Now, he figured if she were to consider ever marrying him, she should know who that man was. He wouldn’t deceive her like Lathan Chisholm did.
“You’re very kind to say so, my laird,” Abigail whispered. She once again glanced around the chamber before bringing her eyes back to meet Ronan’s. Even though she had seen him numerous times, she had never noticed his unusual coloring or masculine build. She found the contrast of his blond hair and brown eyes intriguing. She realized it was the same contrast of her own features but reversed. She’d been in a hurry to take him to his meeting, and the crowded Great Hall didn’t afford him space to stand with his shoulders back. Watching him from a distance hadn’t done his physique justice, either. She’d failed to notice how broad his chest was or how much taller he was than her. Her eyes shifted down to where Ronan’s hand still held hers. He released it immediately, but not before Abigail considered how his large hand dwarfed her own. But no one had ever touched her so gently. Their eyes met again, and Abigail felt her left eye twitch as she fought not to narrow them as she studied him.
“Is there something aboot me that you didn’t expect, my lady?” Ronan’s voice rumbled from his chest as he spoke in a hushed tone.
“You’re much—I’m a lot—we are very different in size.” It was Abigail’s turn to stumble over her words.Ye’re much bigger than me. Aye. And just what is so large that I might be referring to? I dinna need him thinking I’m thinking aboot his rod. Though I am now.Abigail forced herself to keep from looking down.
“Aye, my lady,” Ronan replied. He struggled not to let his mouth twitch as he watched Abigail attempt to back her way out of what could have been an awkward comment.She may be shorter than me, but there is naught small aboot her breasts or her hips. I wonder what it would feel like to touch them.
Abigail waited for Ronan to say more, but once again, she sensed he’d used all that he had to say. She searched for something to talk about, otherwise there would be no reason for them to linger. Just as she began to panic, Ronan spoke up.
“Lady Abigail, I’ve never had this conversation before, so I am at a loss as to how to begin.” Ronan paused, but Abigail’s raised eyebrow and small nod prompted him to continue. They didn’t give him confidence, but they compelled him to speak. “I’ve observed you several times since we first met, and I’m intrigued by you. You’re an attentive listener, and not given to needless chatter.”
Abigail canted her head before replying, “Thank you, my laird.” But she wasn’t certain what she was thankful for. It didn’t feel like a compliment, but she suspected he meant it as one. Did he not like women who talk? It seemed odd to arrange a rendezvous for just the two of them if he didn’t want her to talk.
“You have a lovely smile,” Ronan plowed along. “And you seem to possess a jovial sense of humor. From what I’ve observed, the other ladies like you well enough.”
Another bluidy backhanded compliment. He doesnae even realize that they arenae what a woman wants to hear. Am I supposed to thank ye for nae thinking I’m a simpering and blathering eejit? Should I appreciate that ye noticed I amnae the pariah ye must assume?
Abigail kept her expression neutral, a feat she’d learned while living among the Chisholms, but perfected once she came to court. Ronan glanced away and bit his upper lip for a moment before returning his gaze to Abigail.
“I’m afraid my compliments—at least that’s what they’re supposed to be—sound much better in my head than they do out loud. I’m not a talkative mon by nature, and I often fear saying the wrong thing.” He smiled ruefully. “Much like I am this evening. But I find you hold my attention, Lady Abigail. I will always be straightforward with you. That you may trust. The king has suggested that I marry soon. I have until Epiphany to consider my choices and present my decision to the king. You are the only woman who holds any appeal to me.”
Ronan blurted out the last sentence after feeling as though his previous words made it sound like he considered her because King Robert was forcing him to marry. Abigail didn’t move, but Ronan noticed her pulse flutter in her neck. It seemed rapid, but he admonished himself for wishful thinking.
Abigail didn’t know what to say as she listened to Ronan. He made it sound as though he wouldn’t have noticed her were it not for the king’s order. As though reading her thoughts, Ronan clarified his words.
“Lady Abigail, I find myself attracted to you and, as I said, intrigued. I thought that before the king mentioned marriage. I don’t want you to think I’m speaking to you because I’m rushed to pick someone, anyone. I may have until Epiphany to give King Robert my answer, but I won’t hurry any woman into marrying me. I confess the king’s directive has spurred me into action, but I’d like you to consider allowing me to court you because it is my own wish to become better acquainted. And perhaps there is some small interest on your part, too.”
“You are rather straightforward, my laird,” Abigail murmured. She inhaled deeply as she considered the man standing before her. He was so opposite of Lathan that she almost agreed to marry him on the spot. But she still wasn’t certain that she wanted a soft-spoken husband, even if he was almost too blunt. But she couldn’t deny she was physically attracted to him, and he intrigued her too. He was a puzzle to reason out, she decided. She nodded. “Laird MacKinnon, I would like the opportunity to learn if we suit.”
“Thank you, Lady Abigail. I won’t court you, though, without asking your brother’s permission to marry you if you become amenable. But neither will I write to him without your permission. I will proceed with what you feel is best.”
Abigail frowned. She appreciated the consideration, but Ronan’s deferential manner was so at odds with the men she knew. She also knew there would be no point in sending a missive to Kieran, and she wasn’t sure how Ronan could even court her with only four weeks left before Christmas. “My laird, a missive to ask Kieran’s permission may not be possible if you must answer to King Robert by Epiphany. You may not want to present me as your choice. I’m leaving at the end of the sennight to return to Stornoway for Christmas. It’s my nieces and nephew’s first Christmas that they are all auld enough to enjoy the festivities. I’m going home and won’t return until after Epiphany. I imagine you don’t plan to spend Christmas here.”
“I do not. I confess, court is the last place I want to spend Christmas. Too much fuss with too little meaning. And I belong among the isles, not in a mainland town like Stirling,” Ronan said as he looked toward the window embrasure.
