“Nae. I’m supposed to be doing my lessons,” came back. “Graeme filled two damned pages with arithmetic problems. If I dunnae do them, it’ll be nae supper fer me. Before sunset I’ll knock three times, then two times. Then ye’ll ken it’s me, and ye can send the note under the door.”
At least that would give her time to decide how dastardly she was prepared to be. “Very well,” she said, and a moment later heard his light footsteps retreating.
Young Connell had already proven to be a valuable source of information today. Through the boy she’d learned that Graeme hadn’t ordered her kidnapping. Even more surprising, the barbarian wrote out arithmetic equations for his brother’s study. Heaven help them all if that man was solely responsible for educating his brothers—though that did explain everyone’s liberal profanity.
Marjorie sat at the writing desk and pulled a fresh sheet of paper from one of the drawers. If she did decide to make use of Connell Maxton she could certainly blame it on his oldest brother; whether Graeme had been behind her kidnapping or not, he was the one who’d decided what to do with her. And he’d been exceedingly rude and arrogant about it.
As handsome as he was, if he’d been more patient and considerate, he might—might—have had half a chance of winning her affection. Or at least she could pretend that. Because she could imagine kissing him, and enjoying it. That had more to do with how… alone she’d felt than with his supposed charms. And it wasonlyin daydreams, anyway.
Grimacing, she set pencil to paper. Manners, etiquette, propriety—she’d spent years mastering all the rules and nuances necessary for survival in proper Society. But this concerned morality, and she remained fairly certain that she and Society had some disagreements in that area.
The fact remained, though, that she needed to return to Society, because her house sprawled in the center of it, and she needed to live in that house, with those people around her—and the longer she went missing, the less likely any of them would beeverto accept her. All they would need was an excuse to dismiss her as ruined, or scandalized, as if being the sister of an upjumped duke wasn’t enough to earn their scorn. But the wife of a probably destitute Scottish viscount? That would finish off her chances as surely as the news that she’d been kidnapped in the first place.
She hid the letters old and new beneath the remaining blank papers in the desk, and slid the pencil into an old-looking, empty vase on one shelf. In her opinion it hardly qualified as a weapon, but ithadbeen something Maxton didn’t seem to want her to have. Perhaps he worried a crow might fly down the chimney, giving her the opportunity to tie a message to its leg and send it off for help.
Her door rattled. Marjorie jumped, nearly pulling the vase onto the floor. She had hours to wait before Connell and his secret knocks, but before she could convince herself that the youngster had been too excited to wait for sunset the heavy thing swung open. It wasn’t the boy.
Chapter Five
“So am I to have no expectation of privacy?” she blurted, sidestepping away from the vase.
The broad-shouldered, russet-haired lion strolled into the room. “Were ye up to someaught that required privacy?”
“No. That isn’t the point.”
“I cannae decide if ye’re a madwoman, or just relentlessly contrary,” he muttered, hefting the cloth sack he carried from one hand to the other.
If he meant to put that thing over her head again, she would punch him in the nose. “Am I causing you some difficulty?” she asked, allowing the sarcasm she felt to color her tone.
“Damned right, ye are. Sit doon.” He gestured at the chair she’d dragged beneath the window.
Marjorie folded her arms across her chest, mostly so he wouldn’t see them trembling. “I will not be blindfolded again, you oaf. Not to be dragged to the altar, or anywhere else.”
One straight brow lowered, and he looked at the sack in his hand as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s shoes,” he said, eyeing her again. “So ye arenae fearless.”
“Point me to anyone who is, and I’ll show you a fool.”
“Meaning me, I suppose. Sit yer arse in the chair.” He dragged his free hand through his auburn hair.
“I told you that I don’t like to be loomed over.”
With an even more exasperated glance, Maxton grabbed the back of the other hearthside chair and dragged it over to face the one she’d placed earlier. Then he dropped into it, lifting both eyebrows as if daring her to find something else about which to complain.
While she might have rightly pointed out that a gentleman wouldn’t seat himself before a lady, she kept her mouth shut. Neither of them thought him a gentleman, and reminding him of that might also remind him of other things men who weren’t gentlemen might do with a captive female—other than announcing they were to be married, that was. A shiver ran up her spine, not unpleasantly. Trying to ignore why her mouth had suddenly gone dry, she seated herself with every ounce of grace she possessed and folded her hands on her lap.
He set the bag between his booted feet. “Give me yer foot,” he ordered.
“I am not sticking my foot up in the air.”
“One day I hope ye’ll realize how far I’ve been bending over to be kindly to ye, yer grandness,” he drawled.
“And one day I hope you’ll realize that nothing you do can possibly convince me that marrying you is in my best interest.” A bit harsh, perhaps, if she needed his goodwill, but for heaven’s sake, telling her that he was being kind,whilehe kept her prisoner?
Uttering something unflattering-sounding in Gaelic, he slid forward, dropping from the chair onto his knees. It was a vulnerable position; light gray eyes beneath unexpectedly long lashes lifted to meet hers, something secret and enticing in his gaze.
Stop it, Ree!she ordered herself, but by the time she realized she should have kicked him somewhere sensitive and fled out the unlocked door, he’d already slid a hand around her ankle and grasped it quite firmly. Brushing the folds of her skirt aside with his other hand, he drew her foot forward to rest on one of his bent knees.
“This is… not proper, sir,” she gulped, her cheeks heating.
