Ethan’s snort is more of a chuckle this time.
There’s a good dozen women here in Edinburgh - socialites, models, and the like - who’ve made their desire to be Mrs. Michael MacTavish clearly known, and I’ve successfully evaded them all. So why am I standing here in front of a lass who’s considering whether banishment is better than marrying me?
“Do ye want me to cancel Father Hamilton?” Da asks solicitously.
My lips thin and Sophie gulps. “If I marry you, what happens to my mom?”
“She’ll stay here, in the cottage, of course,” I say. “She won’t have any duties. She canna be trusted.”
“You’re talking about mymother,”she says, pleadingly.
“Look,” Martha steps between us. “Punish me. Banish me. Do…” she sucks in a shaky breath. “Do what you have to do. But the only reason I did this was to protect Sophie. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“One of the reasons I’m doing this is to protect Sophie as well,” I tell her. “Do ye think even someone as unhinged and greedy as Taylor is going come after your daughter, once she’s married tome?This puts ye under MacTavish protection as well.”
I see the moment I have them. Martha’s shoulders slump, and Sophie’s arm tightens around her.
“You promise, you swearto me that you’ll keep her safe?” Martha asks, her voice hoarse from crying.
I dinnae owe this woman anything. She betrayed our clan. But her eyes are the same metallic sliver-grey as her daughter’s and they’re looking at me with such desperation.
“Upon the MacTavish name, I swear it.”
“Thank you,” she sobs. “That’s all that matters.”
Turning my attention back to Sophie, I see she’s looking around the room, as if suddenly aware again that there are other people here, all watching this little drama play out. She flushes red and presses her full lips into a thin line.
“Do ye accept this decision?” I ask sharply. Over her shoulder, I see Mum frown at me. She may not like my tone, but she’s not the one marrying a traitor.
It’s clear that Sophie wants to say something else, the way she’s struggling to form a response. “Yes,” she finally manages, squeezing her mother tighter.
“Good.” I check my watch. “Father Hamilton should be here any minute.”
“Wh- what?” Sophie wheezes. “You mean, tonight?”
There’s a discreet rap on the door. “I mean, right now,” I say.
“Enter,” Da calls, and Miss Kevin opens the door and ushers in a somewhat disheveled Father Hamilton. He’s the priest who oversees our family parish. While he’s not been required to perform as many unseemly marriages as his predecessor had, he’s unsurprised to be called out at midnight.
“Good evening,” he says, straightening his collar and smoothing his dark hair. “A pleasure to see ye all, even at this late hour.”
“Wait,” Martha stammers, “let me take Sophie back to the cottage so she can put on a nice dress.”
Looking at Sophie’s pink sweater and leggings, I shake my head. “What she’s wearing is fine.” I’m still in my suit, having come straight from the MacTavish International office building when Da called me with the news of their betrayal.
Father Hamilton raises a brow, even as he’s opening his book. “If the two of ye will stand before me, then?”
Sophie’s still holding on to her mother, staring at me with a mix of shock, horror, and what looks like revulsion. Again, not a response I usually get from women. When the rest of the family rises to stand around us, her mother whispers in her ear and gives her a gentle push. Shakily making her way to me, she stares at Father Hamilton, who’s watching her, clearly concerned.
“I am not Father Barclay,” he says firmly. Her brow furrows, she dinnae understand, but I do.
“This is not a forced union,” I lie. Not physically, at any rate.
His gaze turns to her. “Is this true, my child?”
There’s a moment when I’m not sure she’ll answer him, then she forces a smile and nods. “Yes, Father. But…”
I see Mum and Da tense slightly.
