“You’re sure the wife remains mine?”
Henry nodded emphatically. “Oh, quite sure. Unless you annul the marriage. Then, if by some miracle David is alive, David would retain the title, but your young lady would take your lands. It does get rather complex. And again, Hawk, the chances of your brother actually being alive are so slim!”
“I’ll have to find out though, Henry, won’t I?”
“Think carefully,” Henry warned him. “Others from your Scottish hills and cliffs and vales may well know what words to use to trick you. If David and you both perish, there are numerous distant relatives waiting to take over not only your Scottish lands and titles—but now all your American wealth as well. This may be a malicious trick.”
“Again, I’ll most certainly have to find out, won’t I?”
“What about your business here with your mother’s people?”
“I have time,” Hawk said quietly. He stood. “Not a great deal of it, but I do have time.”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Hawk. It’s so incredibly unlikely that David could be alive. You saw him buried. I suspect some impostor means to get his hands on Douglas land through you. Don’t be tricked. You have too much business here—and a new wife.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Henry. I intend to see to my business here—and, of course, to my new wife. But I do believe that I will meet this man, impostor or no, on the night of the Moon Maiden at the Druid Stone.”
Skylar had long finished eating when Hawk returned. To her relief, he didn’t seem to have learned any damning information about her. He sat opposite her, appearing preoccupied, then looked at his pocket watch while he drained the shot of whiskey that he’d ordered the minute he had sat down. “Let’s go,” he told her curtly. “I’ve a few more words for Henry.”
Skylar didn’t realize just how late it had become until they walked back across the street to Henry’s office.
Hawk told Henry very briefly that they were heading west over the hills for an indeterminate time and that Hawk would inform him when they returned. If Sabrina Connor should arrive before they made it back, Henry should see to her overnight accommodations at the inn and then her ride out to Mayfair.
“It will be my pleasure,” Henry assured them.
Minutes later they were out on the street again. Hawk walked quickly ahead of her. He waited impatiently at the horses, ready to boost her into her saddle.
Skylar refused to mount so quickly. “What took you so long at Henry’s?” she asked.
“Nothing that concerns you. Ah! Is that a sigh of relief I’m hearing?”
“You’re hearing nothing that concerns you,” she replied sweetly.
“But you do concern me. Henry has assured me that we are most legally bound together. It’s so curious. Did you marry for the title or the money?”
She longed to hit him. His voice was so strange, so taunting. “Neither,” she informed him. “But you’ve no desire to see anything other than what you’ve chosen, so you can take your title and your money and go to hell. Except?—”
“Except?”
He never would understand. She’d married to escape. And now, no matter how hateful he was being, she owed him.
She lifted her chin. “Thank you,” she said, her tone cool, controlled, as distant and dignified as she could possibly make it.
He made a sound of impatience, apparently no longer interested in the fight. “A man is obligated to help his wife’s kin.”
“But you didn’t want a wife, much less her kin. Although you may actually find you like your sister-in-law better than your wife.”
“Skylar, I don’t dislike you.”
“You don’t even trust me alone in your house.”
“I don’t trust you—that doesn’t mean I dislike you.”
“Well, you can’t possibly like someone you don’t trust.”
He put his hands on his hips and looked straight in her eyes. “Well, you can’t possibly trust someone who doesn’t tell the truth!”
She was suddenly sorry that she had started this—so much for a simple thank-you to this man. His mood was foul. She’d leave him to it.
