Page 49 of Glasgow Rogue

As soon as they were outside the magistrate’s office, Niall made the surprising move to allow Owen to escort Annie home, saying he needed to have a word with Aidan before going to Mr. Nolan’s office.

Annie suspected Niall was simply not wanting to answer the barrage of questions swirling in her mind.

So it wasn’t until evening, after they’d eaten and retired to her mother’s small, private parlor, that Annie was finally able to ask what had been on her mind since he’d revealed the startling news.

“Why did ye buy the warehouse?”

Evidently, she wasn’t the only person whose curiosity had been piqued. All conversation ceased and everyone in the room focused their eyes on Niall.

“It seemed the practical thing to do.”

“Practical?” What kind of an answer was that? Annie folded her arms across her chest. “Ye need to be more clear.”

Niall raised a brow. “Practical is a simple word, nae? Purchasing the warehouse made sense to me.”

Annie frowned. “It made sense? Ye are the one nae making sense.”

“Perhaps I can explain?” Aidan asked and then continued, “Niall and I have both gone over the ledgers at Henderson Shipping. One of the major costs incurred is storing goods waiting to be moved to either the States or the Continent. I will be extending our kelp trade by opening an office on Skye and I know Owen is thinking of doing the same on Eigg and Rhum. We all need a warehouse that is well insulated to keep the kelp bales—as well as woolens—dry. Haines’ building does that and owning it will keep our expenses down. ”

Annie looked back to Niall. “So ye are going to manage the warehouse, then?”

“I doona ken if I will have the time.” A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I thought ye might be interested in doing that.”

“Me?” She was so surprised her voice squeaked. She tried again. “Ye want me to manage the warehouse?”

“Aye. Ye do have the experience, after all.”

“But…” Annie eyed him speculatively. Was he having fun with her? He was smirking a bit. “For weeks, ye have been trying to convince me the job was nae a woman’s job. Now, ye want me to do it? ’Tis unkind to jest—”

“’Tis nae jest,” Niall replied. “Ye have told me often enough that the job was important to ye. I should have listened better. Ye should be able to do as ye wish. Ye should have your freedom and independence. Ye were right and I was wrong.”

Annie’s hands dropped to her sides and she almost fell off the chair.

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

She felt somewhat like a gaping fish flopping around.

For Niall to admit he was wrong, especially in front of Owen MacLean, was an amazing feat in itself, but to support her decision to work? Why was he doing such a thing?

It was a question she asked her mother an hour later, after the men had left to have a celebratory drink at Walkers and the two of them were cleaning up the kitchen.

Her mother gave her a wry look. “I did nae think I had raised such a daft daughter.”

“Daft? I am nae daft. ’Tis just that after weeks and weeks of arguing with me about working because I want my freedom and independence, why does he suddenly have a change of heart?”

“Perhaps ye should ask him that.” Her mother dried the last dish and put it in the cupboard and closed the door. “But if ye are asking my opinion, I would say that the man loves ye.”

****

Loves ye. Annie repeated the phrase to herself as she prepared for bed.

Was it possible? Did Niall love her? He certainly had never said as much.

Not even when he was buried deep inside her.

If he’d had such feelings, wouldn’t he have said something then?

Och, she was being silly. Even though Niall had taken his time to pleasure her thoroughly—how could she forget the adept touch of his hands caressing her breasts and the expertise of his fingers bringing her nipples to hard, little peaks?

Nor could she forget the deep, passionate kisses they’d shared or how his mouth had felt lapping her juices and then skillfully sucking her sensitive nub until she practically rose from the mattress? But bed sport did not equal love.

But what if Niall did love her? She had no doubt he’d been acting out of some Highlander Code of Honor when he’d intervened with the men leaving the Virginia Street office building or when he’d showed up at the Trades Hall the night she’d been pelted with the rotten cabbage.

She’d assumed that escorting her everywhere—even the Sunday when the club had demonstrated outside the church—was another part of that code.

Or maybe it was some kind of male competition with Owen.

But could Niall also have done all those things because he cared for her?

And the real rescue, getting her away from the angry mob of weavers and then riding with a wound he didn’t mention…

she’d thought that he felt he was responsible for her safety.

He is a Highlander, Ian had said. But even if all that were true, that Niall had been acting out of a sense of duty, including tracking her abductors, it still didn’t make sense that he would put her in charge of managing the warehouse.

Ye should be able to do as ye wish.

Ye were right and I was wrong.

Did Niall say that because he finally agreed with her?

Annie hadn’t seen any softening in him toward that idea at all.

If anything, he had distanced himself and hardly spoken on the last day of their ride.

He had even refused to take her to his bed again.

So maybe offering her the job was a gift of sorts? That he understood how she felt?

Ye should have your freedom and independence.

Annie felt a chill run down her spine. What if offering her the manager position was a final gift?

What if it was his way of saying goodbye?

She’d refused to marry him, after all. Twice.

He’d said he didn’t think he’d have time to manage the warehouse himself.

Maybe he wasn’t even planning to stay in Glasgow. Maybe…

She heard footsteps in the hall, the sounds of Owen and Niall talking as they went past her room to climb the stairs to the next floor. Annie paused in brushing her hair and looked at herself in the mirror. She was nearly three-and-twenty. Did she truly want to be a spinster?

Work was important. She liked the feeling of earning her own money and not having to be dependent on a man. But did it have to be an “either-or” situation? Niall had offered her the manager’s job. He would let her keep it.

But did his offer of marriage still stand?

Annie grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her, then opened the door to peer into the hall. It was empty. She padded out on bare feet and went up the stairs. She hesitated a moment and then knocked softly on Niall’s door.

He opened it, his gaze taking in what she was wearing and travelling back to her face. “Ye should nae be here.” He looked down at her bare feet and her night rail under the lightweight cotton wrapper. “And nae dressed like that.”

“I need to talk to ye,” Annie said and walked past him before he could close the door. “First, I need to thank ye for the job.”

Niall frowned as he latched the door. “If ye think ye need to thank me with your body, I do nae require it.”

For a moment Annie wondered if she’d made a mistake in coming up. Maybe Niall really didn’t want her. Maybe once had been enough… Annie lifted her chin. Niall was not Broderick. Anyway, she was already here.

“Ye are welcome to my body, but ’tis nae the reason I am here.”

His eyes raked over her again. “Say what ye have to say, then, and be gone before ye are compromised by someone seeing ye. I will nae force ye into a marriage.”

Annie swallowed hard. “What if I changed my mind?”

Niall gave her a wary look. “On what?”

“On marriage.”

“What?”

The incredulous expression on Niall’s face almost made Annie falter, but she might as well blurt out what she was feeling. If Niall rejected her, so be it.

“I realize…I mean, I think…” Blast it. The words were hard to say. “Do ye care for me?”

He looked at her as though she’d taken complete leave of her senses. Maybe she had. “I mean…well, ye would nae have done so many things to protect me if ye did nae care. I ken ye Highlanders have a code ye follow and ye feel ye have a duty and responsibility—”

“I care for ye.”

Annie stopped. “Ye truly do?”

Niall looked heavenward as if praying for patience. “Do ye think I would have spent so much time—nae to mention trouble—following ye around like a moonstruck calf if I did nae care?”

His choice of words made Annie smile. “I would hardly say ye acted like a moonstruck calf.”

“Ye ken what I mean,” Niall answered. “’Tis true I started out only thinking to protect ye—mainly from yourself—but my feelings changed. Ye managed to vex me and make me want to stay at your side at the same time. Ye are stubborn and opinionated and—”

“Are those your idea of compliments?” Annie asked.

“Aye. At least, in a way. Ye never have liked flattery,” Niall said, “so I might as well speak truth. Ye are willful and obstinate and tenacious, to boot. I never expected to fall in love with ye.”

Annie’s heart stilled. “Ye…love me?”

Niall threw up his hands. “Ye doona think I would have asked ye to marry me if I did nae?”

“But ye did nae say it.”

Niall looked bewildered. “Did I have to say it?”

“Aye, ye daft man. ’Tis a word a woman wants to hear. Even one who does nae care for flowery compliments.”

“I thought I showed it.”

Annie quieted and then nodded. “Ye did. I was just too stupid nae to see it.”

“Stupid is nae a word I would ever use to describe ye,” Niall replied. “Headstrong, mulish—”

“Enough,” Annie said. “My answer is yes.”

“Yes?”

“Aye. I love ye and I will marry ye.” Annie tilted her head. “If the offer still stands.”

Niall smiled. “It stands. I love ye, Annie Ferguson.”

She smiled too. “Then show me.”

And he did, drawing her body close and covering her mouth with his.