“Ye didnae even introduce yerself.”
“So what?Shedidnae introduce herself. She is thesassenach, with all those manners they are supposed to have. Gently bred and so on.” He waved a hand in dismissive contempt. “She just entered the hall and started demanding things.” He released an angry breath through his nose, pacing up and down. “And now what am I going to do with her?”
“Well, it doesnae seem like anything has changed. The agreement was between ye and the Major, was it nae?”
Kayden snorted derisively. “I am nae marrying a reluctant lassie. I am nae that desperate.”
“Have ye forgotten why ye agreed to this marriage in the first place? For peace?”
Kayden stopped pacing and let out a deep sigh. He gave Jacob a look that let the other man know his argument had hit home.
“I suppose I will have to speak with her again. Explain, since her faither failed to do so,” he said bitterly.
Jacob patted him on the shoulder consolingly before walking out of the study.
Kayden sat in his chair with a sigh, staring out the window. He could not help but recall his own father sitting in the same chair,receiving deputations from the surrounding villages, solving conflicts, or just conversing with his tenants.
He owed it to his father’s memory to do everything he could to ensure that the clan was safe. He owed it to his people as the Laird.
If he were being honest with himself, he also wanted this marriage. Her petite body, her graceful yet strong-looking hands that wanted to heal, appealed to something primal that he could not completely ignore.
“Ah, hell!” he hissed in frustration before grabbing a bottle of whisky and pouring himself a large glass.
After downing it in one go, he got to his feet and went in search of the English lassie.
Lilliana sat on her bed, vaguely appreciating the soft mattress and the luxurious furnishings. Betsy was talking a mile a minute, trying to find the silver lining in this absolute debacle, but Lilliana was not ready to participate.
How could Father do this to me?
To betroth her to a terrible barbarian was one thing, but to lie to her about why she was here was a level of cruelty she had notexpected. Not even from him. Even if that barbarian happened to take her breath away, it was no excuse.
Did Cecily and Jane know?
She pushed the thought away. Her sisters would have said something if they knew. She had to believe that.
A jarring knock sounded at her door, and her eyes flicked to it. Her heart sped up, and her hands grew restless.
Is it him?
Betsy glanced at her, deposited Bramble in her lap, and went to see who was knocking. Lilliana clutched the cat to her, waiting with bated breath.
“Yes, My Laird?” Betsy said.
Lilliana shot to her feet, dropping the cat unceremoniously. She had known it was him. Something in the air changed when he was near.
She moved slowly towards the door and put her hand on Betsy’s arm. She met the Laird’s ever-changing eyes over her maid’s shoulder.
“We need to talk,” he said quietly.
The way he spoke, his voice low and rich with the rumble of the Highlands, did something to her, much as she would have denied it if asked.
She nodded shakily, nudging Betsy aside to step into the corridor. “Alright,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Let us talk.”
The Laird did not say anything for a long time. He just stood there, his eyes raking over her.
She resisted the urge to fidget and stood straight, her shoulders rolled back, her chin up. He would not find her lacking in either comportment or pride. What else he thought of her looks was none of her business.
Why would I even care?
