“Now look at me.” She did as he asked and was instantly snared by the force of his gaze. “Think of something that makes ye happy – yer favorite thing in the world. That’s it. If yer parents are watching us now, they’ll believe ye’re incredibly fond of me. Will ye tell me what’s on yer mind?”
She’d never shared her greatest pleasure with anyone. “Perhaps some other time.”
Disappointment dimmed his eyes for a second before he smiled back as if she were the sun, the moon, and the stars in his own private universe. It was enough to make her forget who he really was – a criminal—and that this whole thing was only pretend.
“Give me something else then. If we’ve known each other as long as ye say, then we need to become more familiar. Let’s start with yer favorite color.”
She shook herself and forced herself to concentrate. “Red. What about yours?”
“Green,” he told her. “The exact same shade as yer eyes.”
Heavens.
If she didn’t know any better she’d think he was genuinely trying to win her heart. She glanced away, steeling herself against the appreciative warmth with which his words filled her. It was important she stay focused. “I favor daffodils to other flowers and wish they would bloom all year round. My favorite food is pancakes, either with raspberry jam or with sugar and lemon.”
“Pancakes aren’t really a food. They’re a desert, wouldnae ye say?” She frowned at him and he grinned. “Very well. Yer favorite food is pancakes. What else?”
“I don’t like spiders or insects in general. When I was little I fell off a swing and broke my arm. I’ve always wanted a dog but Mama won’t allow animals into the house so I’ll have to wait with that. Unlike most young ladies, I’d rather engage in shooting contests and archery than embroidery or painting.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Why is that?”
“Aside from the fact that it’s much more fun?” When he nodded she said, “My father’s a military man, or was, until he retired a few years ago. When he realized he’d only have daughters, he chose to raise me, the oldest, as he would have done a son.”
“And now he demands ye transform into the perfect young lady.” MacNeil snorted and shook his head. “Foolish man.”
“I thought he and Mama had abandoned the idea of getting me married,” Charlotte told him. “I hadn’t even heard of Mr. Cooper until this morning when they decided to mention him over breakfast.”
“Jesus.”
“I believe they thought I’d be thrilled, but…” She scrunched her nose.
He took her hand and held it lightly within his own. “Ye weren’t. Because they tried to remove yer choices?”
“In a way, I suppose. Truth is, I’ve no wish to marry anyone.”
“Not ever?”
She shrugged. “The idea of tying myself to a man I don’t love for the sole purpose of appeasing someone else’s dream feels wrong. I’d much rather be the master of my own fate, live by my own rules, and be independent.”
“What about children?”
“My sisters are sure to produce enough for me to dote on without me having to deal with all the challenges motherhood poses.”
He began threading their fingers together, distracting her briefly with the sight of his much larger palm enveloping hers. A raised line spanned his knuckles, prompting her to wonder how he’d received the scar and how many others he had on his body.
“So ye will become a spinster, living alone somewhere in seclusion. Is that yer goal?”
“I’d invite other likeminded women to live with me,” she said, her voice a tad harsher than she intended. Becoming defensive only increased her irritation, mostly with herself, but drat it all, the way he was speaking suggested he thought her a dimwitted fool.
“Ye dinnae ken what ye’d be giving up, lass.”
“Then so much the better since I shan’t know what I’m missing.”
“Oh, ye’ll know all right, when ye’re lying in yer empty bed. Yer brain may not want to admit it, but yer body’s sure to do so eventually.”
“What are you talking about?” She was certain she shouldn’t be asking this question and yet it popped out, before she was able to stop it.
Mr. MacNeil raised her hand to his lips, abrading her with the hair from his beard. As he gazed deep into her eyes, he said, “Ye’re a passionate woman, Miss Russell. ’Twould be a shame if ye didnae allow yerself to experience the joys of lovemaking.”
