The picture of a tightly-contained English lady.
Grayburn must be so proud, Tavish thought bitterly. He would regret to his dying day that he hadn’t bludgeoned the duke when he’d had the chance.
Aye, Lady Isla wasn’t the lass he had left, but then, Tavish was hardly the lad he had been. It scarcely mattered now. Soon, they would be free of one another, and he would be an ocean away.
“I take it Grayburn remains unaware of our marriage?”
Lady Isla flinched. “Of course. As you well know, my brother’s wrath burns white-hot over any matter involving a Balfour.”
“Aye, but we both know his help will be required, if nothing else to prevent the news of our divorce from reaching an ambitious newspaper editor. Grayburn might rage a wee bit, but he will be motivated to see our union disbanded.”
“Agreed.”
“Then . . . may I ask why ye haven’t told him as of yet?”
“Given that you were half a continent away and fighting for your life on a daily basis, I did not see the point in raising the matter until it became absolutely necessary.”
In summary:You were far away, and I kept hoping you would die and render the entire situation moot.
Tavish pushed away the sting of her words.
“I would argue thatnowis a fairly necessary point.”
“Yes.” She raised her chin. “Hence my presence here.”
Something in her manner gave him pause. The way her tongue rushed through words and her fingers strangled her reticule, knuckles white with tension.
There was more to this with Grayburn. Tavish knew it as surely as raising a rifle to his shoulder and sighting down the barrel, intuitively aware he would hit his target.
Briefly, he considered letting Lady Isla keep her secret. Her relationship with Grayburn was none of his affair.
But . . .
“What are ye hiding? I sense the situation with Grayburn is more fraught than ye be letting on.”
“I cannot imagine what you mean, Captain.”
She said the words primly, spine straight and unbending.
Tavish couldn’t stem a bark of laughter.
“I’m right pleased to discover you’re still a terrible liar, lass.”
She glared at him then, blue eyes snapping. “A true gentleman would not press a lady thus.”
“Aye, well, we both know you and yours don’t consider me to be much of a gentleman, no matter my parentage nor conduct. Why are ye soafeartto tell your brother?”
Tavish relaxed back into the bench, stretching his long legs out and resting one heel on an obliging stone, his kilt fluttering around his thighs.
He didn’t miss how her eyes swept over his person, raking his body from ear lobes to ankles.
Tavish braced his hands behind his head, ensuring she could look her fill. However, one glance at his smiling face, and she turned away again, lips pressed tight.
“Och, I ken ye might not be keen to share a confidence with myself,” he coaxed, “but I need to know what has occurred. Knowledge is our best defense at this point.”
Her shoulders slumped. The tiniest capitulation.
“As I’m sure you recall, Gray was incensed when he found out about—” She motioned at the space between them. “You and I scarcely spoke after that.”
