Why did the thought of kissing him fill her with dread?
Conscious of the eyes upon them as they left the refectory, she couldn’t prevent the blush that stained her cheeks.
The blast of cool air upon exiting seemed a welcome relief. The meal had indeed gone long; it was already dusk. Other than a few monks moving about, and a handful of guards patrolling the gate and yard, the abbey was quiet—and peaceful.
They walked in silence to the guesthouse. Elizabeth was beginning to relax, thinking that he truly was just intending to escort her back, when he stopped suddenly. “This is ridiculous.”
“It is?” she asked.
“Aye. There is no reason for this awkwardness between us. We are friends, and that does not have to change because we will be married.”
Not sure what he was getting at, she said, “My lord?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m not doing a very good job of this. All I want to say is that I think we understand one another. We know where we stand. This match is a good one for both of us; we do not need to pretend anything else just because we will be sharing a bed.”
Her eyes might have rounded at his blunt speech, if it didn’t occur to her that he was flustered. There was something oddly charming about one of the most vaunted rogues in Scotland being flustered. And even though it was awkwardly put, she understood what he meant. It actually relieved her to hear him say it—there were no expectations on either side. “I agree, my lord.”
“You do?” He immediately brightened and heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. I worried you might be one of those lasses whose head was filled with romance and faerie tales.”
When I get old I’m going to marry you.
She pushed aside the memory—she’d only been six, for goodness’ sake. She hadn’t known any better. “Far from it,” she assured him.
“I knewyouweren’t the type of woman to make unreasonable demands.” It almost sounded as if he was referring to someone in particular. He smiled. “Perhaps it is best if we just get it out of the way.”
Now her eyes did widen. “My lord?”
He laughed. “I did not mean the bedding, I meant a kiss.” He reached down to cup her chin. Every instinct cried out to pull away. To tell him no. To tell him she couldn’t do this.
But she had to. She stood there frozen as he lowered his mouth to hers. Just before his lips touched hers, he said, “And don’t you think it’s time you called me Thomas?”
Light was already falling by the time Thom and the Highland Guard rode into camp. After spending most of the last twenty-four hours in the saddle, all he wanted to do was wash the dirt off him in the river and crawl under his plaid for a few hours of sleep.
“Where is everyone?” MacLeod asked the captain in charge—one of Randolph’s lesser household men.
“Still at the abbey celebrating. I imagine they’ll be there some time yet.”
“Celebrating?”
“Aye. The earl has announced his betrothal.”
As Thom was busy trying to avoid his horse’s teeth as he dismounted and untied the bag from his saddle, at first he didn’t think he’d heard him right. It wasn’t until he felt everyone’s eyes on him that he realized what had been said.
“Betrothal?” he repeated with surprising evenness for a man who felt like a poleaxe had just clobbered him across the chest. His expression gave no hint to the devastation that was taking place inside him.
“Aye,” the young captain said, not picking up on the sudden tension in the air. “To Douglas’s sister.”
It took everything Thom had not to cross the distance between them, lift the man up by the throat, and call him a liar. Had he truly believed what he’d said, he might have done just that.
But he didn’t believe it. Not until he stood at the entry of the refectory, looked over the sea of celebrating occupants, and met Jo’s pitying gaze did he know it was true.
He staggered, feeling as if the world had just tilted and everything he knew was sliding away from him.
There had to be some explanation. She wouldn’t marry someone else. She lovedhim.
He had to find her. But from the two empty seats beside the king, he realized that both she and Randolph had already left.
It didn’t mean anything necessarily, but his heart began to pound like a sword banging on a targe anyway.
