“I can imagine how that went,” he said. “Your brother has always had a particularly virulent streak when it comes to MacKay.”
She didn’t disagree with him. “I was scared. My father was ill and needed me to care for him. I let them persuade me it was nothing more than a youthful transgression. By the time I realized my mistake, Magnus was gone and you—” She stopped.
“And your father had betrothed you to me.”
“Aye.” She realized she’d sat up in the bed, and the sheets were now in her lap being twisted in her hands.
“You didn’t know he’d be here?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since that day. You never mentioned that you knew him.”
“Do you love him?”
There was something in his voice that bothered her. A niggle of guilt wiggled its way into her consciousness. She’d been so caught up in her own misery, she hadn’t thought much about William’s feelings. Unlike Magnus, he seemed much more adept at showing them. He was angry, yes, but also, she could see, disappointed. “I—”
He held up his hand, stopping her. “You don’t need to answer. I saw your face.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t say anything. Why you went through with it.”
Heat crept up her cheeks. “It didn’t seem to matter.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “You tried to talk to him.”
She nodded, shame heating her cheeks.
“And that’s what he told you?”
She nodded again.
He swore. “Stubborn arse.”
She didn’t disagree.
He leaned back in his chair again and seemed to contemplate the contents of his glass quite thoroughly. When he was done, he looked back up at her. “So what are we to do now?”
She looked at him uncertainly. “Do?” What could they do?
“It’s a fine mess.”
“Aye, that it is.”
“Unlike others, I’m not a saint.”
Her brows furrowed. “My lord?”
He shook his head with a laugh. “I will not share my wife.” His gaze intensified. “Nor do I care for bedding a martyr. When I make love to my wife, she will not be thinking of another man.”
There was something dark and promising in his voice that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. In another time, in another place, she might have been quite content to be married to William Gordon.
He smiled, perhaps guessing the direction of her thoughts. Leaving his drink on the floor beside the chair, he stood. “It appears I’m giving you a choice, my lady.”
She startled. “A choice?”
“Aye. Come to my bed willingly or don’t come at all.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s quite simple. The marriage is not consummated—yet. If you wish to have it declared invalid I will not stand in your way.”
“An annulment?” Her voice barely sounded above a whisper.
