Fiona shot him an arch look.It was a somewhat hypocritical question from a man who claimed to have fallen in love at first sight.“How long does it take, Francis?”
“Sometimes it can take a lifetime,” Vin spoke up, sparing Glenrothes from answering.“Richard and I knew Abby and Moira for years.”
“And Francis knew Eve for five minutes,” she shot back.“Time is irrelevant.”
Glenrothes held up his hand to halt her retort.“Fine, Blossom, I won’t speak any more to his feelings, but I will express my concern for yours.Do you love this man?Is he a manyoucan love and respect?”
No, she did not love Ramsay, and that didn’t matter.To her, at least.He was easy and, subsequently, safe.Fiona set her jaw stubbornly but did not, could not answer.She hated to give her brother the satisfaction of being right.
But all he did was nod, even-tempered in the face of her silence.“You do not love him then.You cannot even say that you respect him.Why, then, Blossom?What is this really about?”
Fiona just shook her head again.Her reasons were her own, and her brothers didn’t need to know what really drove her ‘haste.’That was a conversation that would be even more trying than this one already was.Also, she didn’t need their pity.
“If you want to discuss motivations, why don’t you tell me what your refusal is really about?”she asked, turning the tables.“You’ve let me make my own decisions for years.Even if you believe this one will be a mistake, shouldn’t it also be mine to make?Lord Ramsay asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”
“Well, he has no’ asked me,” Glenrothes said, his brogue thickening again, and added without regret, “and even if he did, I wouldnae gi’ my permission.”
“Permission?Francis, really, it is nearly the twentieth century,” Fiona said with barely contained frustration, resisting the urge to stomp her foot petulantly as she picked up her golf bag and hefted it over her shoulder.“See?I can carry my own clubs, pick my own husband...I can even dress myself.Did you know that?”
“But ye still cannae marry wi’out my permission, lass.And I willnae gi’ it.No’ wi’ him,” he shot back as they set out toward the eighteenth and final hole.The clubhouse loomed in the distance like an oasis in the desert, and he, parched not from the sun but from an argument gone on too long, longed to quench his thirst with the fine whiskey within its four walls.
“Good God, Francis!I’m not some wee toddler any longer.I know my mind!”
“But ye would deny yer heart,” he shot back, sounding more like the lordly earl than the doting brother she usually faced.And he’d managed it despite the sentimental emotion of his words.
“And you would deny me my choice.”
A short bark of laughter had Fiona looking back at Vin and Richard, who were following close behind.Richard had laughed, but Vin was shaking his head in bemusement.
“Blossom, you are an intelligent lass, smart as a whip.But I could pick a husband for you this very moment with far more consideration than I believe you have given to the matter.”
“Pick one for me?”she parroted, laughing incredulously.“Well, thank God this isn’t the Middle Ages!”
But her brother didn’t join her laughter.None of them did.Glenrothes shook his head tiredly.“You want to marry him?Truly?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will agree...”
Fiona beamed at him, grinning with satisfaction while Vin and Richard gawked at Glenrothes incredulously.How could they be so surprised, she wondered.Didn’t they know Francis always let her have her way?
“If,” Glenrothes added, bursting her bubble.“He will agree to an engagement of one year.A year to prove that you didn’t make this decision in haste and to ensure it’s the right one.”
“A year?”Fiona gaped.“That’s ludicrous.”
“Or traditional,” Richard said with a shrug.“Depending on how you look at it.”
“This family has never managed a year-long engagement!”Fiona shook her head, dumbfounded.“You’re balmy on the crumpet.All of you.”
“Maybe that’s what happens when you start having your babies past thirty,” Vin said softly as they reached the tee box for the eighteenth hole, and Fiona cringed.
Vin might forgive easily, but his temper could spike just as quickly and flare hotter, too.Baiting him was like poking a tiger, and she usually tended to refrain from doing just that.
Unfortunately, whenshewas angry, she tended to speak without thought, though she typically didn’t regret what she said—but perhaps she’d gone too far.She chewed her lip.Was this their way of punishing her for her flippant tongue?
“This is ridiculous.I don’t want to wait a year.”
“Or...”Glenrothes went on.“If it’s a husband you want more than Ramsay himself—and given the madness of your decision, I have to think that is the case—then find another suitor who will convince me that your future will at least be a happy one.”
