“Oh, I heard you.” Her smile returned. “You wish us to spare her a suitablemarriage.”
“Nae.” Greyson shook his head. “She should indeed wed. I’d just have your assurance that you will keep her here at Kettle House until a worthy match can be made. She deserves someone good, honest, and of sufficient means, preferably aHighlander.”
“The kind of man who believes inghosts?”
“Sarah!” Mr. Russell’s brows swooped low. “She needs to forget suchfoolery.”
“She needs a husband who will no’ crush her spirit.” Greyson leaned toward them, not caring if they saw that he’d fisted his hands. “A man who’d love her fiercely and uproot mountains to protect her; someone comfortable enough in his own skin that he’d no’ try to cage her, refusing her to chase her dreams. A man who’d share them, hold her close every night, and weep with joy when she bears hischildren.
“A man, my friends, who would…” He straightened. “Find her as beautiful in age as he does now, even more so for all the long years they will haveshared.”
“A poet, yes.” Mrs. Russell clasped her hands before her. “A man likeyou.”
Greyson bit back a snarl. “Leave Aberdeen and head into the Highlands and you’ll find men like me on every hill, in every glen, and striding along eachloch.”
“Is thatso?”
“It is.” Greyson straightened, his heart thundering with annoyance. “Find her a strapping, great-hearted Highlander and give me your word onit.”
“I’m afraid I cannot.” The woman’s chin came up, her damned eyes twinkling again. “I’ve already chosen herhusband.”
Mr. Russellspluttered.
Greyson’s heart sank. “She isn’t aware ofthis.”
“She will know soon enough. I am already making arrangements.” She looked at him, her face as cool and calm as a spring afternoon. “I’m afraid you have wasted our time, Mr. Greyson. And yourown.”
“Indeed.” Greyson nodded, and then strode for the door. “I will no’ trouble you anylonger.”
He would return to Gannet House and hope to all the heavens that his foul temper didn’t frighten the ghosts. Or Smithers, though the old man was used to his moods, as was Wiggle, bless his weesoul.
“I bid you good day,” he said to both, reaching to open the door wider, to take hisleave.
“Wait.” Mrs. Russell sailed up beside him, placing a hand on his arm. “I am not as callous as you believe. Allow me to fetch Ophelia. Once you have seen her in clear light, away from midnight mist and magic, you will recognize her true worth, understand why she needs the husband I seek forher.”
“That isnaenecessary.”
Greyson didn’t say he’d already met her by day, at StonyBay.
Seeing her now would breakhim.
But somehow, as if her aunt had worked her own magic, he caught a whiff of summer roses and heard the light footsteps he knew belonged to his Samhainangel.
She’d soon reach the drawing room. And he already knew what would happen. His Highland courtesy would flee, the hot temper of his ancestors proving stronger than any niceties he usually tried to abide by in this modernage.
It couldn’t behelped.
Blood would tell, and his was onfire.
