“And all during that ye’d have been safer elsewhere,” he made himself argue. She would be safer.Thatwas what mattered. Now that he had time to move past being relieved, he needed to be logical. “That’s twice as true now.”
She stomped one foot. “Graeme Maxton, you told me that I didn’t have to be alone any longer. And I don’t want to forget this ever happened and go back to the way I lived before. I don’t want to leave you.”
“Jesus, Marjorie. Dunnae make this harder,” he returned, pushing back. “We were an accident. We werenae supposed to meet.”
“Shut up.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “What was that, lass?”
“You’ve done this for the past eight years, haven’t you?” she demanded, and punched him in the chest, keeping her palm over his heart. “You sacrifice everything. You would have marriedme—a Sassenach blue blood you detested, or so you thought—in order to provide for your people. Whatever life you had planned for yourself, every day that you spend helping your tenants when that still should have been your father’s responsibility, it’s a sacrifice of your time, your privacy, every spare penny. Well, I’m here to inform you, you stubborn man, that I love you. You don’t have to sacrifice your happiness.Youdon’t have to be alone.”
No one had ever worded it that way before. Of course he received applause and sympathy for taking over the care of his brothers, as if he could have chosen to do anything else, but he’d figured a long time ago that the responsibility had made him a better man. In Marjorie’s interpretation, he’d always been a good man.
“You will be in danger,” he said, as clearly and succinctly as he could, willing her to understand when he only wanted to keep his damned opinion to himself and kiss her. “Ye’ve nae lived in the Highlands, lass. Life isnae simple here. Ever.”
“If the Crown hadn’t found Gabriel, I would still be a lady’s companion. In forty years I would be Mrs. Giswell. And I assure you, that frightens me far more than your Highlands.” She paused, lowering her hand again. “Unless you’ve changed your mind. Oh, goodness. Am I being a fool? You’re trying to find a kind way to be rid of me.” She gave a humorless laugh. “If not for my money, you wouldn’t—”
“Fuck,” Graeme growled, grabbing her by the front of her torn gown and dragging her up against him for a hot, openmouthed kiss. “Ye’re tearing me apart inside, lass,” he murmured against her mouth, unwilling to part from her at all. “I dunnae want ye to go. Ever. But I dunnae want to see ye hurt, either.”
“Then leave that decision to me, Graeme. This is the first place I’ve ever felt like I belonged. If you want me here, I want to stay and fight for it with you.”
After being kidnapped twice she had a better sense of the danger of the Highlands than most other Sassenach lasses. And he’d never so much as sensed anything weak about her. Of course he was looking for any excuse to have her stay. “Ye’re certain, my lass?” he asked quietly.
“I will leave if my being here puts those boys in more danger,” she said fiercely. “Otherwise, I don’t care about anything else, or what anyone thinks. They all detested me before; I don’t give a… damn what they’ll think of me now.”
He grinned, relief and a stunned joy coursing beneath his skin. “Mind yer language, lass.” Releasing the front of her gown, he caught her hand instead. “And if ye mean to stay, we need to see ye dressed proper.” He pulled her into the hallway and to the stairs.
“I can change my gown later,” she argued, but didn’t try to pull free of his grip.
She wanted to stay, even with the trouble headed for them as surely as the heavy winter. That still didn’t satisfy him, though; he wanted more, a promise between them as strong as any shackle. When they passed her bedchamber on the way to his, though, she balked.
“Graeme, everyone will know,” she whispered, when he refused to loosen his grip.
“I want everyone to know, lass.”
“But—”
Inside the room, he released her. “Dunnae move, Marjorie.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, from her tone clearly thinking he’d lost his mind. If he had, it had been weeks ago, and he didn’t want to find it again.
Keeping an eye on her, he pulled open the bottom drawer of his wardrobe, found the velvet bag, and returned to stand in front of her. “I’ll nae have ye here against yer will for another damned second,” he said, with his free hand brushing a straying strand of hair from her face. “But if ye’re mad enough to want to stay, I mean to keep ye by my side always.” He sank down on one knee, gazing up at her abruptly comprehending blue eyes. Eyes as clear and deep as a Highlands loch in summer. “We shouldnae ever have met, lass. And even after we did, we should have been enemies. But now I cannae imagine my mad life withoot ye in it. I love ye with every ounce of the heathen blood pumping through my heathen heart. Say ye’ll marry me, Marjorie.”
A tear ran down her face as he took her left hand in his. Her long, graceful fingers shook a little. He noted everything; the fading sunlight out the window, the tear in the gown that revealed a scraped knee, the distant sound of a rooster crowing.
“I’d stay with you even without this,” she finally whispered. “I’ve been alone for most of my life. Almost from the moment I arrived here with a sack over my head and foxes nibbling at my toes, I’ve felt like I’ve been part of something. Part of this warm, chaotic family. And I haven’t felt alone.” Another tear trailed after the first. “I love you, Graeme. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes, yes, yes.”
Abruptly his hands weren’t quite steady, either. He slipped the sapphire ring over her finger, then pulled her down across his knee to fold her into his arms and kiss her until they were both out of breath. “I love ye,mo boireann leòmhann,” he murmured against her mouth.
“They’re kissing,” Connell yelled from the doorway, angling his voice down the hall.
Then he strolled into the room. The lad had donned his Maxwell plaid; Graeme wondered briefly if this was the last time any of them would be doing so as part of the clan. “What do ye want, duckling?” he asked, helping Marjorie to her feet and then standing, himself.
“Ye cannae be kissing when damned—I mean blasted—Dunncraigh could attack any minute. I need to know what ye plan to do.”
“I doubt Dunncraigh will be that swift, Connell. I’ll put oot word fer a meeting here first thing in the morning and tell our tenants what’s afoot. I’ll give ’em the choice to pledge to Dunncraigh, or to stand with us.” He reached out and took Marjorie’s hand. “We may have to throw some blunt aboot to prove we have blunt to throw aboot.”
She nodded. “I’ve never met this Dunncraigh, but I’m happy to do anything possible to annoy him.”
