He looked at her in surprise. He must have expected some form of deference, but for the life of her, she could not summon it. Even the King himself would not be able to coax a curtsy from her, bone weary as she felt.
“I daenae ken who ye are and what ye want from me,” she said, irritation lacing her tone, “but I am a busy woman. If ye daenae need treament, then ye may leave me house at once.”
“Ye are a rather terrible host,” he scoffed. “And I’ll have ye ken that half of this house is mine.”
Shock rippled through her faster than lightning, pulling her to her feet as she realized who stood before her.
“What did ye say?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
“I believe ye heard me perfectly, Miss Collins,” he answered smugly.
It could not be. How had he come here so quickly? She had only heard the news that morning.
“Ye’re Jonathan’s cousin,” she concluded.
“Aye, I am,” he confirmed. “I believe ye also ken why I’m here.”
Indeed, she knew.
The cousin that had stayed away for as long as she had Jonathan was finally here, and it was clear that he had come for one purpose only.
Talia stepped away from the sofa, hoping she hid her panic well, but it was evident in the way she started pacing.
How had he come so quickly?Whyhad he come so quickly? Wasn’t she supposed to be given some time to decide what she wanted to do next?
“Why have ye come?” she asked, turning to him. “If it’s because of the will, I already told Mr. McCain I wanted nothing. Ye can have it all if ye want.”
“This isnae how it works, Miss Collins,” he answered. “Ye have to be wed, or ye and I forfeit the inheritance. And as yer guardian, I have been tasked with finding ye a husband.”
“I daenae want to be wed,” she declared. “I have nay desire to. Ye have come all this way for naught, I’m sorry.”
“Ye’re nae young anymore, but ‘tis nay matter,” he said, as though he had not heard her. “I ken me cousin, and I believe he has given ye the best education. It might be some work, but with yer dowry, ye would be a prime catch. There will be many suitors lining up for yer hand in?—”
“I already told ye I willnae be wed!” she snapped, hands planted on her hips. “I have lived me life free, and I intend to continue doing the same.”
“Ye believe ye will lose yer freedom when ye marry, but that cannae be further from the truth,” he assured. “‘Tis a beautiful institution, and I assure ye that I will find ye the best husband. He will be handsome, with a good sense of humor, and he wouldnae hit ye. We will begin by relocating ye to the castle, where it will be easier for ye to meet as many suitors as possible. Of course, I will supervise yer choice as yer only remaining relative, but ye will get to make the final decision. That is one privilege I can afford ye. Unfortunately, ye will have a short courtship, but ye will get to ken each other for the rest of yer lives.”
When he was done with his tirade, Talia shot him a deadpan look that she was sure would convey her message clearly. He wasdetermined, she would give him that, but he could not just come and yank her out of the only life she had ever known.
“Try as ye might, Laird McGhee, ye cannae convince me otherwise,” she said firmly. “I have nay intention of getting married.”
He would have to drag her kicking and screaming out of the house and down the altar before she would ever be wed.
3
“What do ye mean, ye have nay intention of getting married?” Darragh asked incredulously.
Talia wondered why her words surprised him, when she had repeated them several times. She was even tired of saying them over and over.
Perhaps she should have been more cautious when she woke up to that crack in her mirror. That was an omen she had ignored, but it seemed there was some truth to such superstitions.
“I meant just that,” she answered, raising an eyebrow at him. “I daenae intend to get married. If ye came all this way to convince me to marry, then I am sorry to disappoint ye.”
She watched his expression shift from incredulity to anger, but she was not in the least bit bothered. She was tired and angry that her day had been ruined with such unpleasantinterruptions, when all she had intended to do was work on her herb garden and tend to her evening patients.
“Ye cannae remain unmarried,” he insisted. “Ye’re a woman. ‘Tis yer duty to marry.”
“Me duty to whom?” she scoffed. “I have nay faither, and I have nay family name to carry on. I am free of duty.”
