Iona dabbed at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “I very much regret that my duties preclude jauntering all over the house. If you will excuse me, I must consult with the housekeeper and chef.”
Diantha inhaled sharply. Iona had just confirmed that she had no intention of giving up her hold on Duncarie. By doing so in front of Kieran, her adversary had made it impossible for her to protest without looking like a petty child. However, the woman had left an opening, which she seized on.
“Then would you be so good as to inform the housekeeper to come to me at her convenience? I should at least like to know how to find my way around.” Iona opened her mouth and shut it. Diantha gave her a smug smile; she had turned the tables on the older woman.
Kieran smiled and rose from the table. “An excellent notion. Send her to my mother’s rooms, Aunt. I wish Diantha to meet her and I’m sure we shall still be there when you’re finished.”
Iona left the room in obvious disapproval.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Diantha swung to face her husband, eyes wide. “I’m not prepared—that is, I wasn’t expecting to meet your mother so soon.” She winced as his eyes chilled. “Forgive me, I do wish to meet her. I just didn’t know it would be this morning. I gather she is feeling better?”
“She said she was when I sent a message this morning.” He unexpectedly looked older than his twenty-nine years. “We shall see.”
Barclay placed his napkin on the table beside his plate. “Kier, I know you’re anxious to see her, but do be careful not to tire Aunt Alicia.” He bowed slightly to Diantha. “If you wish, I could show you a little of the house while my cousin changes.”
Disarmed by his diffident manner, she accepted. While not particularly knowledgeable about architecture, Barclay proved informative about the history of Duncarie House.
“This house was built after the son of the Rossburn killed at Culloden in 1746 got himself into King George II’s good graces and got our landback. The old castle was razed as part of the English retributions, you know.”
He slanted a glance at her. “A good many of the Highland families at the time called us traitors, but he was entitled to his position. And he proved a good landlord to his people, I suppose. He was popular at any rate.”
They stood in the library, a room of warm oak paneling filled with light from floor to ceiling windows. Diantha all but salivated at the rows of books lining the walls, their spines adding a note of muted color to the atmosphere. In the distance, the glen of Duncarie stretched away beyond the glass panes.
Barclay beckoned her to the window. “Cariford is north. That’s the one seaside village on our lands.” He pointed over her shoulder. “This house was built with the earnings from kelp ash. During the wars with France, it sold for as much as twenty-two pounds a ton.”
Diantha nodded as she looked over the expanse of ridges leading away from the house. She knew about the fishing ships her father was supplying in exchange for her marriage.
“The gallery is out here, you two.”
They turned, Barclay dropping his arm to his side. Kieran stood holding the door open. He had combed his hair neatly into place, but a few damp strands still curled along the line of his collar. In a tailored black suit and his cravat knotted into an ascot, he looked every inch the handsome aristocrat.
Then his eyes met hers, brilliant aqua darkening as a wicked smile curved his lips. More like a wolf in lord’s clothing, she thought, with an answering smile.
Remembering the kisses she had received the night before from that sensual mouth, she thought she just might have gotten the best of the bargain her father had struck.
“I shall wait for you in the office, then.” They both started when Barclay spoke.
Her husband nodded, approaching Diantha as Barclay closed the door behind him. “What were you looking at?”
She spread her hands with a rueful smile. “I don’t know. I see the estate, of course, but I haven’t reallyseenit.”
Staring out at the glen, he linked his fingers with hers. “Do you like it?”
Nonplussed, she cocked her head. “That’s an awkward question. The estate comes with the marriage, just like—” She broke off before she went too far.
“Like me.” Kieran finished the sentence in a flat voice. The truth behind their marriage hung between them.
Diantha’s heart pounded, but she nodded. “I’m sorry. Doubtless you wanted a different answer.”
A glint entered Kieran’s eyes. “Perhaps I expected you to respond to me as enthusiastically as you did last night.”
For the second time that morning, embarrassment scorched her face and neck. She stared at the hem of her gown until he lifted her chin with his fingers. His expression revealed nothing.
If she told him how her attachment to him grew with every passing day, he would ridicule her. She summoned up her most composed manner. “I failto see why our duty to produce an heir cannot be pleasant for both of us.”
He drew himself up and sucked in a breath. “Duty? Is that what made you cry my name out last night?”
Something snapped within her. He asked her to expose her emotions while he guarded his.
