She lowered her head, and shook it in denial. But he saw the guilt and embarrassment on her face. Another lie.
By God, he was going to tear the Scot apart.
“Your Grace—” The earl moved forward between them and took Marguerite’s hand. “Whatever happened in the past will remain there. I am well aware of your daughter’s feelings, and I believe we will have a stronger start to our marriage if it begins with forgiveness.”
Guy studied Lord Penrith, wondering if he spoke the truth. There was no trace of anger upon the man’s face, and it did seem that he didn’t hold Marguerite at fault.
A fraction of the tension eased from his shoulders. “What say you, Marguerite?”
Her face held misery, her mouth downcast. But she nodded her agreement. “I will go through with the marriage.” She stared back at him, her face pale. “But if I find out you have harmed Callum in any way, I will not marry the earl or any other man.”
Her threat caught him off-guard. “You’ve no right to issue warnings to me, Daughter. You should be grateful for the earl’s benevolence.”
“It is a vow that will be broken if you dare to hurt him.”
She meant it. Though her voice remained quiet and calm, he heard the sincerity in her tone. It seemed his daughter had grown a spine, after all.
A dull regret spread through him, that it had come to this. Guy couldn’t understand what Marguerite could possibly see in the Scot. The man was so poor, he had nothing at all to give her. No doubt he was using her heart, trying to better himself by attracting her attention.
His daughter was far too gentle and soft-hearted for her own good. And he’d move the moon from the sky to keep her safe.
“I vow that I will not harm him,” he said. But then, there were ways of assuring that MacKinloch would never see Marguerite again. Ways that ordinary men wouldn’t survive, and Guy didn’t have to lay a hand upon him.
The broken relief in her face bothered him, and she insisted, “As long as he is safe and alive, I will keep my word.”
But she didn’t look at the earl, as if there was no hope of affection between them. Guy gave a nod, vowing to put an end to whatever was between her and the Scot.
Her acquiescence was the only reason he kept MacKinloch alive.
Two days later
“You’re pacing,” the earl remarked.
Marguerite stopped and realized he was right. They were inside the solarium, and Lady Beatrice was sewing in the corner. She sent a look toward the matron, and Lord Penrith guessed what she wanted. He spoke quietly to the older woman, and soon enough, they were alone.
Marguerite felt the walls closing in on her. Callum was being held in the storage chamber below ground, guarded night and day. “They won’t let me see him,” she admitted. “I fear my father may not have kept his word.” It felt strange confessing this to the man who wanted to wed her.
The earl crossed the room and took her hands. His palms were warm, his face concerned. “Thus far, he has not touched him.”
Marguerite studied him and remarked, “Would you release me from this marriage, if I asked it of you again?”
He went quiet for a time, his hands still holding hers. “No, Lady Marguerite. I intend to wed you, just as we agreed.”
“Why?” She stared at the earl, unable to understand him.
“As I told you before, I need an heir and a wife. The Duc has offered a generous dowry for you, one that will help me to rebuild my estates.”
“Any other woman could do that for you.”
“No.”
She let go of his hands, holding herself around the waist. “I am sorry, but I cannot give Callum up. I belong with him.”
“We will marry in a few days, and I will bring you back to England,” Lord Penrith said. “There you will be Lady of my estates and govern them in my absence. The rest of my household will see a husband and wife who are good friends. But I will not share your bed.”
She paled. “Why? If you seek an heir, then—”
His face took on a derisive smile. “My tastes do not run toward women.”
