Page 12

CHAPTER 12

Anna swayed uncomfortably in the saddle of Gordon’s horse, whose name she’d learned was “ Manadh”. It seemed an unkind name for a horse, to be named “ omen”, but she chose to believe he was named after the good kind rather than the bad.

Her dress wasn’t yet dry, the layers of fabric sticking in an unpleasant fashion, but Gordon hadn’t seemed to want to wait any longer. Indeed, they were almost back at the castle, almost at the point of no return.

Is this truly what I want? Her mind was foggy with the thrill of Gordon’s kiss, addling her usually clear thoughts. It seemed absurd that she had gone from wanting no husband at all to accepting this one in the space of one scintillating moment, and if she didn’t figure things out quickly, she might find herself in a situation she didn’t really want.

“We must agree on our betrothal period,” she blurted out, just as the castle appeared through the trees. A few fields stood between her and the fate she’d chosen.

Gordon glanced back from where he walked, leading the stallion by the reins. “Eh?”

“I willnae marry ye without due consideration,” she explained at a clip, hoping he couldn’t hear the worry in her voice. “I want us to spend… a betrothal year together, to see if we’re indeed a good match. Otherwise, I might well be wanderin’ into a marriage that doesnae serve me, which has been me concern all along. Ye wouldnae want me to deem it a mistake later, now, would ye?”

A fleeting relief swept through her veins as the words left her mouth, feeling better now that they were out in the open. It wasn’t so unusual for a couple to have a lengthy betrothal though, judging by the frown on Gordon’s face, it wasn’t what he’d expected.

I cannae be wooed so easily, she told herself, steeling her resolve.

“Ye need more convincin’?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

There was no mischievous smirk or sly look, but she knew what he meant. Her cheeks flushed with warmth, remembering the searing press of his lips against hers, the glide of his tongue, the rough touch of his hands, the heat of his body pushed flush to hers.

It was nearly enough to make her forget the betrothal period altogether but, thankfully, some sense still clung on, warning her that she might regret it later if she didn’t take care now.

“M’Laird, ye might be able to… kiss me well,” she replied, blushing furiously, “but I’d be remiss if I dinnae make certain of yer intentions. I need to ken that ye’re nae marryin’ me for the same reason everyone else is comin’ to seek me hand. Bein’ nothin’ but a vessel for bairns isnae somethin’ I’ll marry for, nay matter how nicely ye kiss.”

“I willnae ride back and forth for a year,” he said bluntly.

Anna didn’t consider herself to be a foolish sort of lass, but she couldn’t deny the slight sting of disappointment upon hearing that. She imagined tales of old, where chivalrous knights would cross treacherous terrain to reach the woman they adored, or ride to a secluded spot in the forest every night to steal just a moment with their beloved.

Perhaps, a seasoned warrior wasn’t quite the same thing as a chivalrous knight of old.

She cleared her tight throat, shunning such silly ideas. “I’m nae suggestin’ I stay here and ye stay at yer castle. I mean, we can spend a betrothal year together , at yer castle. Betrothed but nae married, until the end of that time is done.”

He returned his attention to the near horizon, and the castle that was getting ever closer. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was frowning as he considered her suggestion.

“A year is too long,” he replied, a short while later.

She swallowed. “Six months, then?”

“Yer faither wanted a weddin’ by the end of the auction,” he pointed out, annoyingly. “That would have been nay more than a fortnight from now.”

She couldn’t deny the truth of his words, much to her chagrin, but she imagined she would have given the same suggestion to any other laird who’d happened to “ win” her hand. She needed time. She didn’t want to rush something that would shape the rest of her life. Surely, he could understand that?

“Aye, I suppose that’s true,” she muttered, pulling on the skirts that were sticking to her legs, loosening the wet fabric. “So… how about this? Before we marry, we must have… um… five engagements, in order to get to ken one another.”

He looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign tongue. “Five engagements? Ye only get one, lass, unless ye mean to be engaged to five different lairds.”

She covered her mouth with her hand, but she couldn’t hide the sound of her stifled laughter, nor could she swallow it in time. For a man so intimidating, so capable, there were clearly some things he wasn’t so knowledgeable about.

“I daenae mean engagements as in betrothals, M’Laird,” she hurried to say, still smiling. “I mean engagements as in… occasions, meetings, rendezvous. Five planned, organized meetings where we can learn about one another better. If ye happen to have a secretly romantic nature, those would be the times to display them.”

She flashed him a wink that seemed to puzzle him further, and threatened to bring another chuckle to her lips. If she had told him to plot a war against the English, she imagined he’d have found it to be a simpler task than planning a romantic rendezvous.

Could I have a marriage without romance? The thought troubled her, but she had only to think back to what had just happened to believe that there was some essence of romance in him. Of passion, certainly.

Besides, she would have the five engagements to figure out if what he could offer was enough.

She took a breath, soothed somewhat, even though he hadn’t yet agreed.

“So, five days?” he said, reigniting her slight panic.

“Nay!” She coughed, quietening her voice. “We’ll have one occasion every week, so our betrothal should last… well, five weeks.”

Aye, I can manage that. That’s long enough to ken what I’m gettin’ meself into.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “And then we marry?”

“And then we see if we’re truly a good match for each other,” she replied, her voice edged with a note of exasperation. “If we are, then we marry.”

She couldn’t decide if he was merely oblivious to the process of betrothal and marriage, or if he was trying to trick her into lessening the amount of time through sheer frustration. It concerned her a little that the length of time clearly perplexed him, for she had started to think that he wasn’t like all the others, wanting her for her child-bearing body and that alone.

If he wasnae bothered, a year wouldnae be too long at all. Six months, certainly nae. Unease began to prickle up her spine, worrying her that her “ choice’” was just an illusion, to make herself feel better about her circumstances. Still, five weeks would be enough to gather some amount of control over her fate; she was sure of that.

“Five weeks,” he said with a nod. “Then we marry.”

His tone was firm. Definite. As though it wouldn’t matter if they hated one another, they would still be marrying at the end of that duration. But it was the only leeway she had, and she knew she’d be a fool not to take it, and figure the rest out later.

If he kisses like he was made to kiss me, why should we nae be a good match? She held onto that thought, refusing to dwell on a worse outcome when they were only at the start of their betrothal journey together. Indeed, only time would tell and, now, she had time.

“And daenae think about destroyin’ that drawin’,” Gordon said suddenly, surprising her. “I’ll consider it me weddin’ gift.”

Blushing furiously once again, for a very different reason, Anna wished she’d left the awful thing by the loch. She didn’t want to be reminded of what she’d drawn, just in case it turned out to be closer to the truth than she thought.

After all, the devil had a thousand ways to tempt a person and set them on the wrong path, and he was the Devil of the Highlands for a reason. She would do well not to forget that, no matter how well he kissed… especially because of how well he kissed.