“She struck a man,” he drawled.
“In public.” Isobel’s voice was careful.
“In the face.”
“Aye.”
He kept his eyes on the page, suppressing a smile. “She might very well be the first interesting woman ye have reached out to.”
“That is nae the point, Braither. The point here is that she agreed to be yer wife. Sure, she has some conditions, but we must lookat the most important part of the note here. She has agreed to beyer wife.”
For a few seconds, Logan did not move. He read the letter again and found that his reading had slowed without meaning to.
“She is ruined then,” he noted.
“Aye,” Isobel said.
He lowered the hand holding the letter. “An English lady wouldnae last a week here. The yard would skin her, and the hills would finish the rest. She would hate the wind and the silence.”
Isobel watched him. “She has made a choice, and she is standing by it. I think she will learn the wind.”
“She will bring her pride and her thin shoes and her London mouth.”
“Ye have a pirate’s name and a yard that goes still when ye pass,” Isobel shot back. “Thin shoes can be traded. A spine is harder to find.”
He set the letter flat on the table and looked at the seal as if it would change. “Why send this to us?”
“Because we daenae have the luxury of choosing which woman ye’ll marry,” Isobel replied. “In case ye cannae tell, Braither,nay woman is queuing outside our doors to ask for yer hand in marriage. Even Freya is terrified of ye. Nay Highland faither will trust ye with his daughter, and nay Highland maither will let her daughter come near yer hall. In other words, this is yer only option, English or nae.”
He looked at her and said nothing.
“Look on the bright side. She punched a man. That means she isnae meek,” she added. “She isnae a glass made to hold another man’s reflection. She is desperate, and she isnae weak.”
“She will expect comfort and courtship.”
“She will expect to be married to a man who willnae give her any reason to punch him and willnae question her dignity,” she countered. “That is what the letter asks for without saying it.”
Logan grabbed the letter again and read it, this time a little slower.
“Maybe it is because I have spent more time exploring the world than ye, Sister. But where ye see symmetry, I see cost.”
“I daenae see symmetry. I see a woman nay one wants,” Isobel said. “And I see a man nay onedaresto want. ‘Tis like a match made in heaven.”
He made a short sound that might have been a laugh. “Ye think I’d be a fool nae to take her up on her offer.” He did not smile.
“I didnae say that.”
“Nay. Ye didnae need to.”
He folded the page once and then unfolded it.
“What would ye have me do, then?” he asked.
“Consider it,” Isobel replied. “Then answer if ye find it worth the trouble.”
Logan looked at the door and then back at the letter. Isobel was right; people did not dare to want him. This Emma Huntington might be the very first woman who agreed to marry him without fear. He might as well see it through. Who knew when such an opportunity would present itself again?
He set the letter down. “If she comes, she willnae be lied to about this place.”
