Catherine waited for her thoughts to stir into something tangible while she watched him uncork a bottle and fill a small glass. He strode forward and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
Still feeling groggy, she took it in both hands and sipped heartily. The dark flavor awakened her senses as she looked all around the large room. It was a luxurious space. The walls were paneled in oak, and the furniture was upholstered in a floral brocade.
“How long have you been sitting here?” she asked.
“Since we arrived.”
“But you must be exhausted as well,” she noted with concern.
“Aye,” he admitted. “And I confess I might have dozed off for a minute or two in the past few hours.”
She took another sip of wine. “I’m surprised it’syouwho is watching over me. You could have left Alex outside the door. I’m sure he would have been devoted enough to the task.”
“He’s a good lad,” Lachlan said. “Now go back to sleep, Catherine. You need your rest. Tomorrow is an important day.”
She set the glass down on the bedside table. “Indeed. I am going to meet the twin sister who was separated from me at birth. I hardly know what I will say to her.”
“Don’t get your hopes up for a tearful reunion. The last time I saw Raonaid, she was pouring a bucket of bones all over me, and hexing me straight to hell.”
Catherine swallowed uneasily. “Perhaps she has changed.”
He shook his head.
“How do you think she will react when she sees me?” Catherine asked.
“It’s difficult to say. I’ve known her to be volatile, so I will go first and deliver the news. I will also make sure that Murdoch will not be a source of danger.”
Catherine nodded. “That will be best, I suppose. She should be warned, for the news will come as a shock. No doubt she will need time to prepare herself.”
Still half in a daze, Catherine pulled the covers back, kicked off her shoes, and slid between the sheets. She and Lachlan watched each other steadily through the flickering candlelight for a long while, and she wished things were different between them. She wanted to be close to him, but she dare not invite him back into her bed. She’d done enough damage and was not sure he would ever forgive her.
“Are you still angry about what happened today?” she asked, unable to avoid the subject of their argument in the coach.
“Just go to sleep, lass.”
“But I want to talk about this. Please, Lachlan. Youproposedto me today.”
The rocking chair creaked slowly back and forth across the floorboards. “Do you mean to change your mind?”
There it was—the hint of seduction, the teasing quality in his voice that always excited her and drew her in.
She hesitated, then answered shakily, “No.”
“Then what is there to talk about?”
She cleared her throat. “Youarestill angry with me. I only wish you could understand.…”
He stopped rocking. “What do you expect, lass? When a man makes love to a woman and proposes marriage, it’s safe to assume his feelings have become engaged.”
“You arehurtby my refusal?” she said, leaning up on an elbow.
“Nay, not hurt,” he insisted. “Angry. Everything about this angers me, because you are in danger, and I cannot live with that.”
She wet her lips and pondered how best to explain her true feelings.
“I wish to marry forlove,Lachlan,” she said at last. “Not for protection. Very soon, I will have a substantial fortune of my own, and I will be quite capable of taking care of myself. And under no circumstances will I allow any man to marry me out ofanger. When I marry, it will be by choice—not force, or necessity. I wantlove. I want the passionate, all-consuming kind, where nothing is held back. I want babies and grandchildren, and I want to live a long and happy life with my husband, who will make love to me, regardless of the risk.”
