Rather telling, that.
But what else could she do? She wanted to remain Lady Isla Kinsey, the legal daughter of the Duke of Grayburn. She wanted Malton Hill.She loved the woman she became there—her confidence and sense of purpose, the people like Mrs. Tippets who relied upon her. She would not abandon them to an uncertain fate under Gray’s indifferent care.
Tavish doesn’t know about Malton Hill, Isla thought.He doesn’t know the person I became. The rebirth I experienced. He doesn’t understand why I wish to marry someone—anyone, really—like Colonel Archer. Why retaining my dowry is so important.
She liked Colonel Archer. More importantly,Grayliked Colonel Archer.
Ergo. . . she would marry him.
“But ye don’t love him,” Tavish grunted.
A statement. Not a question.
“How do you know that?” She pivoted to face him in the small hollow.
The rain had morphed from a raging tempest to a more docile drizzle. They would likely be on their way back to the house soon.
Tavish made no move to leave their secluded grotto. Instead, he mirrored her actions, turning toward her.
She had to look up and up to meet his gaze.
Gracious, but he was close. So close, the scant six inches of space between them arced with electricity.
“How do you know I don’t love Colonel Archer?” she repeated.
“Because I know what ye look like when you’re in love, lass. And this—” He waved a hand to indicate her entire person. “—this isn’t it. Ye’ve decided ye want the life Fletch offers—a comfortable house, a fine carriage, expensive gowns, and servants to wait on ye—but the man himself is fairly irrelevant.”
As ever, she found his rapier-sharp dissection of her thoughts unnerving.
“It is not wrong to shun a life of poverty.”
“A life of poverty with myself, ye mean?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What about love?”
“I cannot say what true love is. Not anymore. I thought I was in love once, but perhaps what you saw was more a form of obsession andmania than true love—emotions that end in pain rather than fulfillment. Perhaps the respect and quiet admiration I feel for Colonel Archer is more the genuine definition of enduring love.”
“Is that what ye tell yourself?”
“Yes.”
Deliberately . . . as if it were a test of some sort . . . he closed that remaining half-foot between them, bringing his chest flush with hers.
Isla’s heart lurched to a gallop.
She could step back. The grotto was small, but not so confining that she couldn’t move away from him.
Sheshouldstep back.
It was only . . .
Her head tilted back of its own accord, taking in the new difference between them in height. Perhaps Tavish had always been this tall. Perhaps it was her own memories that had diminished him. Somehow, she had needed to shrink how much he had meant to her in order to accommodate his loss.
But now, he filled her vision. Literally larger than her dreams had ever painted him.
His hand found hers again, prying it from her side and gently lacing their fingers together.
