“Lucy,” the man corrected cheerfully, dusting his gloves.
Arran swallowed hard. “Joseph. Her…betrothed…” His lashes lowered. God above, he could not say it.
“Betrothed?” Joseph barked. “My lass leaves for two nights and returns betrothed.”
My lass?A growl clawed up Arran’s throat. The hell she was.
“Ah’m the one intendin’ to marry Lucy,” Joseph said.
Arran snapped back to the moment.
He seized the man’s arm. “What did you say?”
“Arran,” Dallin warned again.
Arran ignored him. “I asked you a question,” he growled, shaking the fool. “Miss LeBeau is betrothed to my cousin, Mr. Smith.”
Joseph’s brows crashed together. “If she’s betrothed, it’d have happened here. Which means—” He shrugged. “Lucy and Ah are nae marrying after all.”
Arran released him abruptly.
His pulse roared in his ears. Thoughts scrambled, refusing sense.
Lucy…not engaged to Campbell. But she’d said. She’d…
Oh, God. Sweat rolled down his temple. Tremors sank their teeth into him.
He’d let her past every guard. Let her into the broken parts, the buried parts. He’d told her truths he’d never told another soul.
And she’d lied.
Had any of her words been real? Would it matter, even if they were?
He’d stood out here grieving her future with Campbell like a damned fool.
Cold—blessed, purifying cold—poured through him. Steeled him. Reminded him who he really was.
He’d been right about her from the start.
“Arran,” Dallin said gently—the same tone he’d used when their childhood horse went lame. “There must be a reason. And she isn’t engaged to Campbell. That must count for something.”
Arran stared at him. Had his brother lost his mind?
“Come,” Dallin urged, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go inside and—”
Arran jerked away and strode toward the house.
Behind him, Joseph cleared his throat. “Is the lass in some kind of trouble?”
A hard, cynical smile cut across Arran’s mouth.
Oh, Miss LeBeau was in trouble.
The very worst kind.
Chapter 16
Every breath Lucy drew scraped like jagged glass.
