“That’s yer objection, then? We’re nae acquainted?”
Impossible man. “That’soneof my objections, yes. Of course there’s also the matter that I have a shackle on my leg, and that I don’t like you!” She took a breath. Ladies didn’t yell. He was simply… maddening beyond all sense and reason.
That attractive smile curved his mouth. “I think yedolike me. Ye just dunnae like that ye do.”
“Oh, for…” This was getting her nowhere. Either he was intentionally aggravating her, or he had a supreme lack of self-awareness. She tended to think it was the former, but she wasn’t going along with his plans, regardless. “Think whatever you wish, Lord Maxton. I’m more interested to know if you own a book other thanCulpepper’s Herbal Medicine.I would prefer something more literary.” She paused to take another bite, chew, and swallow. “And my gown has jam on it. Might you spare me some water and a scrub brush?”
That made him look her up and down again, which sent odd tingles down her spine. “After ye change into yer nightclothes, toss yer gown by the door. I’ll knock before I fetch it.”
She shrugged to cover her discomfiture at the idea of him coming in to see her naked—or nearly so. “Don’t expect me to be overcome with dizziness at the idea of you touching a dress I won’t be wearing.”
Maxton tilted his head, a lock of his lion’s mane falling across one eye. “Tell me someaught. If I werenae marrying ye, ye’d be ruined in English eyes, aye?”
“I’ve been alone without a chaperone and in male company for over two days. That doesn’t earn me a parade. It earns me gossip and whispers and considerably fewer invitations to soirees.” Not that she had any to begin with, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Wouldnae marrying me fix that?”
An honest question? “No. You’re a viscount, yes, but no one in London knows your… pedigree. And you’re Scottish.”
“But they wouldnae call ye ruined.”
Marjorie sighed. “Please don’t pretend you’re attempting in any way to help me. We both know I’m still here because you want my money.”
He leaned forward. “That’s nae all I want of ye.”
Abruptly her cheeks warmed. “I’m certain I have no idea what you mean.”
His gaze held hers for a moment, then he settled back in the chair again. “Marrying ye’s nae the only way fer me to gain some blunt, lass. If I told Dunncraigh who I have beneath my roof, he’d likely throw enough money at me that I could purchase a London lady fer a wife.” His direct gray gaze unsettled her. “That could only happen if ye were never heard from again, though, so be careful who ye choose to ally yerself with in the Highlands.”
Fear brushed at her, cold and dark—the first time she’d truly felt it in his presence. “Why in the world would the Duke of Dunncraigh wish me harm? I’ve never met him, and never heard of him except to read his name from time to time in the newspaper.”
“He and yer brother are at war, lass. Lattimer may think it’s over and done with, but Dunncraigh’s nae finished with him, yet.”
Oh, dear. “Then bring me to my brother. Ransom me to him. Or simply be a good Samaritan, which I promise not to dispute. He will reward you.”
“Ah, lass, if Dunncraigh ever heard that I’d helped Lattimer, that I’d given ye to yer brother and nae to him,I’dbe the one to disappear. And I wouldn’t even be the first to do so. That would be one thing if it was just me, but I’ve my brothers and a hundred cotters relying on me.” Almost absently he lifted her glass of wine and took a sip of it. “So now ye ken my dilemma. I dunnae wish to be yer enemy, or yer captor. But ye’ve nae offered me a better opportunity than the one I lit on—marrying ye.”
She nodded. “I do understand. But I still won’t cooperate. I wish you would believe that if it comes to it I will not name your brothers. I wouldn’t name you, either, my lord.”
“What I’d like to do and what I can afford to risk are two different things. So ye stay in this room, and in that shackle, until ye come to yer senses.”
This was worse, much worse, than she’d even imagined. This Dunncraigh, who from what she’d read had recently been accused of threatening and neglecting his own clan Maxwell, wanted to do harm to both her and Gabriel. And she’d landed squarely in Maxwell hands. “I shouldn’t ask,” she said quietly, working to keep her voice steady, “but why haven’t you given me to Dunncraigh in exchange for those piles of gold?”
Graeme drew in a breath, then stood. “I reckon I’ll be keeping my own counsel on that count.”
“But if you married me, he would certainly find out.”
“Aye. He would. And if he came after me, I would firstly have the funds to make it a fight, and secondly I’d have yer brother nae wanting anything to happen to ye and so helping me go after the Maxwell. I dunnae see anything fer me to regret.”
“But you don’t know me! You certainly don’t love me!”
He shrugged. “I’ve nae known that to be a requirement fer a marriage. I prefer it that way.”
“That’s very… sad.”
“In yer opinion.” Silently he gathered up the utensils, empty plates, and glasses, leaving her with a single tin of water—presumably so she couldn’t break it over his head. He carried the tray to the door and pulled the heavy thing open to set his armload down in the hallway.
Marjorie sighed, grateful for some time now to think. But then he faced her again. “Now,” he murmured, softly closing the door behind him and then strolling slowly back to her, “one more thing fer me to see to tonight, lass.”
