9
Isla’s eyes fluttered open, and when she saw Brodie in her bedchamber, she sat bolt upright, horrified. “What are you doing here?!” she demanded, her face a deep shade of crimson.
“Shh!” Brodie urged. “We must not let anyone hear! We must not be discovered like this!”
“But how did this happen?” Isla hissed.
“I do not remember! Do you?”
She searched her mind for any events from the previous night that could have led to them waking in such a state and could find nothing. “I went to speak with my father,” she mused, pulling the sheets up around her to cover herself more thoroughly. “I do not remember what was said, but I remember being happy when I left his study. Happy about…marriage?”
“That would make sense, yes,” Brodie whispered. “I visited with him as well, and when I did…that is, I am almost certain he gave me good news as well. About you deciding to go through with our wedding.”
Isla rubbed her temples, desperately trying to remember. Had she said that? It didn’t seem to make sense that she would, but so much of what had transpired was a total blank to her. And why would Seamus have told him that if it weren’t true?
But hadn’t she had her heart set on Andrew? Hadn’t she gone riding with him the previous morning and even come close to kissing him? What could have possibly happened after that to change her mind and decide to wed Brodie?
Whatever it was, she was mortified to find herself in this situation.
Her humiliation increased a hundredfold mere moments later when the door opened, and Margaret entered with a tray of breakfast. “Your father sent me up with this. He thought you might—”
The words died in her throat as she saw the two of them in bed together.
“Oh,” she said quietly, nearly dropping the tray.
“This is not what it seems!” Isla blurted immediately. But how could she say that for sure when she herself had no idea what was going on?
“That is, neither of us remembers how we came to be in this…state,” Brodie assured her. “In fact, it would be best for me to leave this room at once before we are discovered by someone less inclined to be discreet.”
Discreet?Margaret thought.I can barely bring myself to believe what I have seen! Isla had no interest in Brodie, and now this?!
No, more than that: Brodie wanted me. I know it. I felt it when we were together in the library, like heat coming from a hearth. I know that he was entirely out of my reach, and I accepted that, but I cannot accept that he would simply fall into bed with Isla!
Yet still, there they were, right before her eyes. And what other explanation could there be?
Brodie cleared his throat awkwardly. “Er, Margaret…might you be willing to hand me my clothes? They’re on the floor over there.”
Margaret put the tray on the bedside table, trying to keep her eyes averted from Brodie—not that it made much difference at that point since she had already seen far too much. She crouched, scooped up the bundle of clothing, and dropped it on the bed next to him, all while looking away.
Brodie dressed hurriedly and hopped out of bed. When he did, Isla looked down at the sheets between them and emitted a choked sob. “Oh no.”
There was a small bloodstain.
“No!” Brodie’s voice was hoarse, his eyes filled with horror. “It cannot be! We would have remembered such a thing, would we not?”
Isla put her face in her hands, miserable. “I…had cider before coming to bed last night. Imbibing is not my custom, and it affected me strongly. So alas, I might well have done this while I was not in my right mind.”
He frowned. “I confess, I had whiskey as well, and I tend not to partake of spirits. No doubt the drink muddled my mind. But to this extent? Enough to make me forget something like…this?”
Margaret spoke up sadly. “I have never taken a drink of spirits in my life, but I have heard stories from servants who have. Such loss of memory is not uncommon, I’m afraid.”
“Then what are we to do now?” Tears were streaming from Isla’s eyes. “This is not how I imagined I would lose my maidenhead! I wanted it to be special, and I wanted it to be with the one I love most! I wanted to bloodyrememberit, at least!”
“Regardless, your honor is now at stake, and our course is clear.” Brodie’s voice was flat and hollow. “I must speak with your father.”
Isla’s eyes widened with shock. “No! You must not tell him of this!”
“I do not wish to,” he told her in a strangled voice. He sounded as though he was about to be sick. “He might well beat me or kill me for besmirching the purity of his daughter, and truth be told, he would have every right to do so. I must throw myself upon his mercy and promise to marry you at once.”
