Page 39 of The Scot’s Seduction (Heirs & Spares #2)

T he thing of it is,” Murdoch said slowly, his throat so tight it felt hard to speak, “that I—that I seem to have fallen in love with you.” And then he winced, squeezing his eyes shut as his body tensed all over, waiting for her reaction.

But there was nothing.

Eventually, he opened one eye. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, her mouth an O of surprise.

“I know that is not what we agreed to,” he began, speaking faster than usual.

“I am sorry, since I also know you have vowed never to marry, and I assume that means no long-term entanglements. I would never presume to ask you to reconsider your life plans, since I know you are a more determined woman than that. If you had wanted to reconsider your life plans, you would have told me in London.”

She still didn’t speak. Just sat there unmoving.

“This might be the worst idea I’ve ever had, telling you all this.

” It felt like he was a runaway train, speeding on the tracks toward certain destruction.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated for my happiness or anything.

I just wanted you to know because—” Then he faltered, because now he wasn’t sure why he wanted her to know.

Perhaps because he was secretly hoping she would leap into his arms and tell him she felt exactly the same way, and she wanted to know more about sheep and soil and how long she could go without seeing another human being but him.

But clearly that wasn’t going to happen.

“So I—” he said, starting to get up from his seat.

“Sit down.”

Her words were sharp, and he responded automatically, immediately plopping back down on the stool.

“I haven’t spoken yet.” He couldn’t read her expression.

“All right,” he said slowly. “What—what is it you wish to say?”

She glanced down at where they still held hands, which is when he realized her hand was shaking.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat, which had now extended to his chest. He didn’t know whether he should draw his hand back or leave it where it was—was it presumptuous to keep holding it?

Or if he withdrew it, would she see it as a rejection?

Best to just leave it, and not move at all. Rather like a dying fish. But no, a dying fish would flop about, so that wouldn’t work. Perhaps a sleeping kitten. Though that conjured up cute images rather than anything—

“Why didn’t you say any of this in London?” she asked, her tone abrupt.

“Uh—” he began.

“Because I was there, as were you. We could have solved all of this if you had just said something.” She sounded angry.

Was she angry at him for not speaking? Should he have kept on not speaking so as not to incur her wrath when he eventually did speak?

Or should he have just kept quiet forever, holding his broken heart alone forever?

“But you—”

“I’ve said a lot of things,” she said, interrupting him. Her face was flushed. “Yes. I told you I didn’t want any entanglements. That was true. But how did you not recognize that what we had was different ?”

“Uh—” he said again, feeling as though he was way out of his depth.

“If you had just said something to me, anything, perhaps we could have had a reasonable discussion.”

“We’re having a reason—”

“Are we?” she asked, one eyebrow raised. “Because it sounded to me just now that you told me you loved me, and then justified why you hadn’t said anything, blaming it all on my words. You have your own words, Murdoch, and you didn’t use them.”

“Uh—”

“Indeed,” she said, sliding her hand from his and crossing both arms over her chest.

“But”—and he felt himself grow hot all over as his temper rose—“I was on my way to see you to tell you. That you happened to be—”

She rose from her seat. “That I happened to be here? Because I felt responsible for your niece? Because it was the right thing to do? Are you actually talking about that circumstance?”

He stood as well. “Yes, and yes, I know that makes me sound like an ass.”

“You don’t need any help with that,” she snorted.

“But the truth is,” he continued, his jaw clenching, “that I was on my way to see you, while you—you were on your way to see me, only for a different purpose. Were you going to say anything to me?”

She drew herself up, her eyes blazing.

How had things come to this?

“Are you saying I am a coward?” She took a step toward him, her chin lifted in aggression.

He took a step toward her. “Are you saying I am?”

They stood staring at each other for a few long moments, neither of them speaking, waiting for the other to—to do something.

“You’re both idiots!”

Murdoch and Drusilla both looked at Joey, who’d been the one who shouted. She hopped off her stool, then sauntered toward them, an expression of amused annoyance on her face.

She poked her finger into Murdoch’s chest. “You shouldn’t have been so agreeable when I was telling you she’d be fine afterward. She wouldn’t! She hasn’t! Just look at her!”

And she took that accusatory finger and pointed it toward Drusilla, whose eyes were wide and blinking. “She’s been unable to make decisions lately, her hairbrush is a distant friend, and all she does is mope. Mope! Lady Drusilla, who’s left dozens of broken hearts in her wake.”

“You don’t have to say all of that,” Drusilla muttered.

“And I know full well you’ve been moping around your sheep barn or wherever it is you live.”

“I live in a regular house, thank you,” Murdoch said in an offended tone.

“Whatever,” she said dismissively. “I’m sure you’ve been more morose than usual, likely just grunting and frowning instead of conversing.” She turned her head around to address Ferguson. “Am I right, Murdoch’s friend?”

“You’ve got it in one, Lady Drusilla’s friend.”

“See? The two of you need to be together, and you need to remove your heads from wherever they’re stuck, and you need to do it soon. I’m getting tired.”

“You can go up to bed, you know,” Drusilla said frostily.

“And miss all this?” Miss Joey said. “Not hardly. Now hurry up and resolve this so we can go home. Wherever that will be.”

Murdoch met Drusilla’s gaze, their expressions mirrors of each other’s—even if they did resolve this, when they resolved this, they still had to figure out what all of this meant for their future, and if they could even have a future together, given the realities of their respective lives.

N one of Drusilla’s previous relationships had ended up like this, and she’d had plenty. Then again, she hadn’t happened to fall in love with any of them, so there was that distinction.

But she’d never been so irritated by one of her lovers. And also, at the same time, perplexingly, entirely aroused. Even when they were practically shouting at each other, she couldn’t help but notice his powerful build, the way his dark eyes glittered with emotion.

If they weren’t in the midst of an argument, if they weren’t in the main public room of an inn in Scotland, and if their friends and family weren’t seated only a few feet away, she’d have thrown him onto the rough wooden table and crawled on top of him already.

Joey’s words, therefore, were like a dash of cold water in the face. Because the truth was that she could no sooner leave London than he could leave Scotland.

And she knew she wouldn’t settle for only having him some of the time, if she were to have him at all.

“So given all that, this is goodbye, then,” she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

Murdoch gave her a confused look. “What in God’s name do you mean? You haven’t told me anything of how you feel, except apparently you’re not brushing your hair, and you want to just say goodbye? Like that?”

“I never said she was sensible,” Joey murmured.

“Go sit back down,” Murdoch ordered, and Drusilla was surprised to see Joey obey.

He turned back to her. “It is your turn to speak. You said I hadn’t given you a chance, so speak.

How do you feel about me? What is it you wish to say that isn’t recriminating me for not saying something sooner?

Which you could have done yourself, if you had thought about it,” he added in a chiding tone.

And now she wasn’t certain what to say. How could one gracefully admit that one had fallen deeply in love while also saying one refused to change one’s life for the other?

That was why she had vowed never to fall in love and get married in the first place, wasn’t it?

That hadn’t changed. She hadn’t changed that much.

Yes, she had fallen in love, but she wouldn’t stop doing the things that were important to her, and those things were not being the wife of a Scottish earl on some remote sheep farm.

“Take your time,” he said in a much gentler tone than he’d used all evening. “It’s difficult, I know well. Especially for someone as stubborn as you.”

She didn’t even bother to protest being called stubborn. She could already hear Joey’s snort if she dared utter the words.

“I think I need to sit,” she said.

“Please.” He gestured toward their seats.

“Maybe over there?” she replied, nodding toward the far corner. There was an unlit fireplace there, and two armchairs that had seen better days. But it felt more intimate, and likely their audience would have a harder time hearing them.

“Good idea,” he said, narrowing his gaze toward the trio at the bar.

They picked their way over to the chairs, then sat.

Drusilla felt her breath hitch.

This was it. She needed to tell him how she felt, and then—and then she would be able to say goodbye.

M urdoch regarded her, an uneasy churn in his stomach.

What if she told him she loved him, but not enough?

Not enough to discuss any possible solution or compromise because she liked things the way they were?

What if she wanted him, but only up to a certain point—that point being in bed, but nowhere else?

“You’re looking at me so oddly,” she said, her voice shaky. “Is there something more you wish to say?”

“No, I want to hear you.”

He did. He wanted to hear her all the time, even when she was arguing with him. From the first time they’d met, outside her town house, when she’d assumed he was trying to do something nefarious to Emily, to now, when they were bickering over who should have spoken when, he wanted to hear her.

“Well.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Suppose—well, just suppose I have also fallen in love with you.”

He nearly leapt out of his chair with joy when she said that but restrained himself just in time.

“And—and suppose I thought I wanted to make a life with you.” She took a deep breath. “How would that work?”

He arched a brow. “Didn’t we already prove we know quite well how that works?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not that part, obviously. That part we can handle. I mean all the other parts. The parts where we combine our lives, where we face people like Mrs. Smithwick and her ilk. Or where we face your sheep.”

He reached over to take her hand.

“Drusilla.”

“Mm?”

“You’re a formidable person, you know that?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And you’ve assembled a crew of strong, solidly dependable people around you. Some of them are as close as family,” he said, nodding to where Joey sat.

“Yes.”

“And I am an intelligent, reasonably wealthy man with his health and his teeth.”

“Yes?” she said, clearly confused.

“So between the two of us, we can certainly figure something out. The point is, dearest Drusilla, that if we want to be together, we will be. It is as simple as that. The details don’t matter now. The desire does.”

“Say that again,” she urged.

“Say what?”

“‘Dearest Drusilla.’ Say it again.”

“Dearest Drusilla,” he repeated.

“Oh,” she sighed. “That sounds lovely.” She bit her lip. “I wish I could kiss you now, but I don’t want the innkeeper to toss us out for scandalous conduct.”

Murdoch rose, letting go of her hand for a moment before scooping her up out of her chair as she emitted a startled shriek.

“Which room is ours?” he called to the innkeeper.

“Uh—second room on the right, my lord. My lady.”

“You’ll need to get married tomorrow,” Ferguson said as Murdoch began to climb the stairs.

“That’s the good thing about Scotland,” Murdoch replied with a grin. “We can.”