Page 72 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

She threw him a filthy look. “Lady Pilbury wouldnae pull a trick like that.”

“Maybe ye daenae ken her as well as ye think ye do. After all, she was young once, was she nae?”

“Aye, but I’m sure she was very proper and prim. She is a lady, an English lady!”

“I could tell ye some stories about English ladies. Nae mine, of course, but still.”

She rounded on him, folding her arms tightly. “Ye are giving me a headache, Hunter.”

“That makes two of us. I already have one from me mother and yer employer gabbling about the cèilidh at breakfast.”

Daphne rolled back her shoulders. “Well, I’m looking forward to the cèilidh. So is Willow.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Are we really going to stay in here and make small talk until we’re released?”

“Well, what do ye want to talk about?”

There was a moment of silence.

Abruptly, Hunter got to his feet and prowled toward her. Daphne met his eyes, never looking away, and didn’t give an inch of ground.

She’s a fighter, he thought, biting back a smile. Our daughter really will be a warrior.

“I want to talk about us,” he said. “Ye agreed to come here.”

“Aye, to let ye see yer daughter. I’ll nae go over what we discussed last night. I cannae wed ye, Hunter.”

“Bold of ye to assume I was going to ask ye again.”

She turned crimson but lifted her chin defiantly, folding her arms across her chest. “I want to leave.”

“Aye, but we’re locked in.”

“Why on earth would Lady Pilbury or yer mother do something like this?”

He shrugged. “Me guess is that they want us to marry. It’s the obvious solution. We have a child together.”

Her jaw tightened. “So tell me what made ye swear yer vow never to wed. It must have been something serious. And it must have been well-known, if even a maid can tell me about it.”

He glanced away, swallowing.

I should have ken she wouldnae let this go.

For a moment, images flashed through his mind. A cold wedding ring, the weight of a baby in his arms, a thrill of pure, cold horror.

He didn’t let the images turn into full-blown memories. No, he didn’t want to go there again. Who would? He’d spent too long trying to forget.

“Do ye really need to ken everything about me?” he whispered roughly. “Must ye dig up every secret?”

She moved toward him until he could smell her rosewater perfume again. He wasn’t sure where the scent of lavender was coming from. Her clothes, perhaps? Her hair?

He met her gaze squarely, waiting for her to speak.

“Ye must ken that it’s nae about digging up yer secrets,” she said. “I daenae ken anything about ye. Nae yer past, nae who ye are. All I ken is that ye swore a vow, and marrying me would break it and cause God only kens what problems.”

“So, ye daenae wish to be with me.”

She held out her arms to the side. “Me wishes have nothing to do with this. We’re at an impasse. Ye willnae tell me, and I cannae trust ye without kenning. Even if I did ken, it might still be too risky for ye to break yer vow. And now here we are, stuck in this bloody library, and I—” She broke off, shaking her head.