When had her wee brother become this indomitable mountain of a man? A pillar of the community. A husband and soon-to-be father.
His entire life lay before him, mapped out with clearly defined regions labeledsecurity,purpose,andbelonging.
Leah had none of that. Not in the same sense.
But Malcolm—kind, big-hearted Malcolm—couldn’t see it. He had Aileen, his childhood love, at his side. The woman he always turned toward, as if she were the sun feeding the garden of his heart.
He didn’t see that, for Leah, remaining at Thistle Muir with them was akin to a festering wound. The misery of hearing Malcolm and Aileen giggling together in the cold larder or talking quietly in their bedchamber or stealing a kiss in the dairy. Leah’s nose constantly pressed against the glass, looking in on the loving contentment of Malcolm’s life, but never experiencing something similar for herself.
“Ye dinnae have tae marry, Leah.” Malcolm turned back to her. “Ye dinnae have tae ally your life with some reclusive army captain. I could find a way tae give ye independence without ye sacrificing yourself in a loveless marriage.”
Leah stilled.
Perhaps Malcolm understood more than she thought. She sometimes underestimated his uncanny sense of perception.
“And I cannae say I approve of a man who would ask for your hand without properly courting ye first and consulting the family who loves ye.” He pulled off his hat, running a handkerchief over his forehead, before replacing his hat with a sigh. “What do we even know about him, Leah, aside from the fact that he is a wealthy Sassenach and has a passing acquaintance with Lord Hadley?”
“That is true, but . . .” Oh dear, was she going to have to explain?
A glance at the concern in Malcolm’s dark eyes confirmed that, yes . . . yes, she was.
Flushing, Leah looked out over the pasture to the seven enormous coos chewing their cud.
“Leah?” Malcolm’s voice drew her back to him.
“Idoknow Captain Carnegie. Are ye satisfied? We have a prior acquaintance.”
“Ye know him? How is that possible?”
“He was in Staffordshire with his regiment when I traveled with Aunt and Uncle Leith that summer. We attended a house party together.”
More silence . . . still loud and buzzing and thunderous.
“Bloody hell, that was twenty years past, Leah.” He shook his head. “That hardly constitutesknowinga man.”
“Perhaps not, but he is not a stranger tae me.”
“So he remembers ye, too?”
“Well . . . no, not as such, but I ken—”
“Ye like him. Ye are a wee bitty infatuated with him.” Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. “Ye would have tae be, to remember him after all this time. Do ye love him?”
Blast her brother and his too-seeing heart.
Leah couldn’t get the words out of her mouth, but the ferocity of her blush spoke volumes.
She did like Fox.
Shewasinfatuated—thoroughly, dreadfully, hopelessly.
As for love . . . she didn’t know.
“Please,” she whispered, blood rising so painfully to her skin, she feared there was none left to pump her heart. “Please never breathe a word of my former connection or . . . feelings. . . to anyone, much less the captain.”
“You’re rather proving my point, Leah. Who should know your feelings ifnotthe man who wishes tae wed ye?”
“That’s not the sort of marriage Fox and I propose to have.”
