“Aye.” Wood creaked as he settled his rangy frame, then canted his head. “Are ye going tae join me?”
“Yes. I…I am.” But she remained standing, the whites of her knuckles gleaming bone white as she laced her fingers together. “But I want to say something first.”
Although his throat tightened and his palms dampened with sweat, he masked his apprehension with a brusque nod. “Go ahead, then.”
“You were right.”
His teeth flashed in a grin. “Always something I like tae here. About what, exactly?”
“The marriage proposals. I turned them down…I turned them down because they weren’t you. Oh, at the time, I gave myself an endless litany of reasonable excuses. Too old, too young. Too this, too that. But the truth is that their only fault was they were not Lachlan Campbell.”
Was it possible for a heart to grow?
If so, his had just expanded two sizes.
“Come here,” he said gruffly, and this time she sat beside him, her voluminous skirt nearly taking up the entire bench. He reached for her hand and when she gave it, all it took was a slight tug to have her nestled into the crook of his arm. “I’ll make ye so happy, Bry. I swear it. Anything ye want, and I’ll find a way tae make it yers.”
“I…I have not agreed to marry you, Lachlan.”
He stiffened, and she lifted her head, hazel eyes wide and wary.
“I wish to,” she said before he could speak. “I want to. But there’s so much we haven’t discussed. So many questions that I still have.”
“Like?” he said, his brows gathering as he struggled to temper his annoyance. Having waited this long, he was loath to waste another second. But he also recognized that while his personality had always directed him to leap before he looked (the distillery being case in point), Brynne’s descent was much more cautious and careful.
“Like where would we be married?” she asked.
“Aye, and that’s easy enough tae answer. Gretna Green.”
She nodded slowly, as if that had been the answer she’d been expecting. “Where would we live?”
“Campbell Castle, tae start. The lands hold the distillery, and with neither me father nor eldest brother taking an interest in the grounds or the keep itself, I’ve become the unofficial laird.” His mouth twisted. “More or less.”
It would have been an excellent time to add that in addition to the castle and the thousand acres surrounding it, he’d also taken over the care of Callum and Blaine, with the twins likely to join any day. But if Brynne was already wavering at having him as she thought he was, what would she do if she learned the full truth of what she was marrying into?
Run, he answered grimly. If she’d any sense in that pretty head–which she did, his Bry was as sharp as a whip–then she’d run for London and thetonas fast as those delightful calves could carry her.
His plan was to introduce her to the reality of it in pieces. He already had three nannies waiting in the wings to swoop in and care for his brothers when he returned. There wasn’t the money to pay for them to stay longer than a month, but surely Brynne would be used to the children by then and her kind, caring heart would be able to look past their grubby cheeks and feral antics to the sweet cherubs underneath all of the grime and mischievousness.
Then there was the castle itself, which a stern wind had a good chance of knocking over. But he’d taken care of that as well. In so much as he’d started renovations on the master suite…and only the master suite. Given that he had no plans for them to leave their bedchamber for the first half-year of their marriage, Brynne would hardly have cause to notice the holes in the roof or the walls being supported with wood and prayers.
It’d be fine, he told himself. First, he just had to get her willingly to Scotland. After that, everything would fall into place.
Or the castle would simply fall down.
Either way, they’d have each other.
He lifted her hand. Kissed the back of it where her skin was smooth and slightly chilled. “Do ye trust me, Brynne Weston?”
A short hesitation, and then…
“Yes. Yes, I trust you Lachlan. But–”
“Then what else is there tae discuss? I’ve already arranged travel. A carriage that will take us straight across the border, and lodging in Gretna Green. Yeareof the age tae marry here, in England, if ye’d like. Ye dinna need anyone’s permission.”
“No,” she said hastily. “If we are to do this, I–I would rather elope.”
Lachlan nodded. It didn’t make a damned bit of difference to him where they were married, as long as he was able to call her his wife when it was all said and done. A cathedral in London or a blacksmith shop in Scotland. What did it matter? The location wasn’t important; the woman was.
