Page 114 of A Rogue in Firelight

He was leaving it to her, though the very air thickened between the two men. And she was about to add fuel to fire.

“It is true,” she repeated. “I will marry Lord Darrach, if he is still amenable.”

“He is amenable,” Ronan said.

Love warmed all through her, strengthened her further. His resolve made her certain, his composure fed calmness into her. She straightened her spine. “We will be married as soon as it can be arranged.”

“You will come to disaster over this. Think carefully, Ellison. The price of your stubbornness is too high,” Corbie snarled.

Ronan stepped forward. Ellison tapped his arm. “No,” she said. “Mr. Corbie, perhaps you would return to Strathniven now in the carriage. I will find a ride later.”

“I will do better than that. I will go straight to Edinburgh.” Corbie glared at Ronan. “We gave you every privilege, and you preyed on a vulnerable widow. It will not go well for you now. What did you think to gain?”

Ronan’s arm tightened under her hand. “Nothing you could comprehend, sir.”

“I only wanted to protect her from such a scoundrel as you. I only wanted to guarantee her safety so her father will know she kept her honor with you.”

“I will tell Papa what he needs to know. Best leave now, Adam.”

“Enough,” Ronan barked. “Leave now if you wish, sir. But Lady Strathniven expects you to partner her in the first dance. Go tell her what you have decided. Go on, before I show you the door.”

He pointed toward the French doors. Corbie stomped away. “This is not finished!” he snapped as he yanked open the door and went inside.

“I have never wanted to kill a man so much in my life,” Ronan growled.

Ellison gave a half-laugh, half-sob. “I am glad you controlled the urge.”

“Barely.” He took her hand. “Are you all right, lass?”

She nodded as a wave of relief and love rinsed through her, rocking her nearly to her knees. She leaned her head against his chest, and he held her.

“I am fine now. Thank you for ending that.”

“You ended it, love, and far more nicely than I would have. But I have a feeling this is not over. What did he really want?”

“To complain about my poor judgment. And demand that I marry him.”

He swore softly. “Small-minded man. He wants something more, but what? With luck he will be gone soon. But in Edinburgh, be sure to keep your distance from him.”

“He thinks I should obey what Papa wants. But Corbie wants it more.”

“That troubles me about him. Do you feel ready to go back inside?”

Nodding, she walked beside him, but her legs and hands trembled, and she could not shake the awful sense of dread that turned her stomach. So much of this bad situation was her doing, and hers to fix. She had gambled that Corbie’s threats were empty, but now she was not certain. He was bitter and angry, and would cause a rift with her father and trouble for Ronan if he could. And she felt responsible.

In these past weeks, she had begun to feel a deep desire for happiness, dreams she had given up. She desperately wanted love and contentment and freedom with Ronan, and had begun to believe it was possible. But now all that had changed.

“Ronan.” She stopped in the center of the silent, beautiful library. “What now?”

“Why, Miss Graham,” he murmured, “I am thinking we should marry, and soon.”

Her heart thumped, thrilled, wishing it could be so. “But—”

He leaned down to kiss her gently, sinking a new feeling through her knees. She clutched at his lapels. He drew back to look down at her. “But?”

“Perhaps we should keep it to ourselves.”

“I should speak to your father first. Widows do not need permission—but in this case, it is better for you if I go to him.”