He considered this. "I suppose that's true."
"So, it's possible then. In theory."
"In theory, aye." He stopped at the door to their chamber. "Why? Are ye hopin’ we might become somethin’ more?"
"Nay." He watched the way color flooded her cheeks, and how she wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm just... tryin’ tae understand how any of this is supposed tae work."
"When ye figure it out, let me ken." He opened the door for her. "I made an impulsive move, which I dinnae regret, by the way, and here we are. And now I'm just lost as ye are, lass, and that's the God's honest truth."
She slipped past him into the chamber, and for a moment, they stood close enough that he could smell the faint smell of roses from her.
"The ride," she said softly. "When the rain stops. We can go."
"Aye."
"Dinnae be happy about it yet. I havenae agreed tae anythin’ beyond a ride."
"A ride is more than I expected."
She looked up at him then, and something in her expression made his chest tighten. Vulnerability, maybe. Or fear. Or hope she was desperately trying to suppress.
"We'll see," she whispered.
All Tòrr could think of after that was,God help us both.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Campbell's Great Hall, Inveraray Castle
"Gentlemen, that concludes our business fer today."
Angus Campbell's voice rang through the great hall, dismissing the assembled lairds with the casual authority of a man who'd never questioned his right to command. Around the long table, chairs scraped against stone as men rose, gathering their cloaks and calling for their retainers.
Roderick Munro remained seated, his hands clenched into fists beneath the table.
"Munro." Balgair Ross paused beside his chair, his face a mask of false sympathy. "Me condolences on yer... unfortunate circumstances at the auction."
"Save yer pity, Ross. It daesnae suit ye."
"Nay pity intended." Ross's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Just notin’ that some of us managed tae secure alliances while others... didnae."
"Get out."
Ross laughed and moved away, joining the stream of departing lairds. Each one represented a successful match, a new alliance forged, a strengthened position within the Pact. Each one was a reminder of Roderick's spectacular failure.
When the hall had finally emptied, save for Campbell's personal guards, Roderick stood and approached the high table where Campbell sat reviewing documents.
"We need tae talk," Roderick said without preamble.
"Dae we?" Campbell didn't look up from his papers. "I thought everythin’ was said durin’ the meetin’."
"Everythin’ public was said. The private matters remain."
"Ah." Campbell set down his quill and leaned back in his chair, studying Roderick with eyes that missed nothing. "Ye're still angry about MacDonald."
"Angry?" Roderick's voice rose despite his attempt at control. "I'm furious. That bastard made a mockery of the entire auction, of our plans, of everythin’ we'd arranged."
"He followed the rules," Campbell interrupted calmly. "Every last one of them. Attended masked, bid fairly, paid in full. There was naethin’ irregular about his participation."
