Page 9 of Wed to the Highlander

“More like a trying week,” Maggie murmured,tryingan understatement.

“I won’t ask anything of you tonight. You need rest. From here, we travel by carriage, starting first thing in the morning.”

She looked down, torn between gratitude and guilt. “This is our wedding night, and I know what that usually entails, but… It’s all happening so fast. I’m not ready.”

Duncan crossed to her and knelt. His hands bracketed her knees on the bench, but he didn’t touch her. His presence alone made the air feel heavier.

“I ken this has been difficult, lass.”

He wasn’t offended. Not frustrated. If anything, he looked…relieved.

That hurt more than anger would have.

She blinked hard, throat tight, and reached up to unfasten the first button of her jacket. “Could you see about the water?”

As if on cue, a knock sounded at the door. He rose immediately to answer it.

“Duncan?”

He turned, his hand on the knob.

She hesitated then said softly, “Thank you for understanding.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but his voice was calm. “I meant what I said, Maggie. I’ll give you time.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

But then he added, “Just not forever.”

She looked up, startled, but there was no threat in his expression. Only honesty. He wasn’t rushing her, but he wasn’t pretending either. This was reality and hers to face. Also, a reminder even Duncan MacPherson’s patience had its limits.

She nodded again, lips pressed together.

He lingered for just a second longer, as if he might say more, but instead opened the door and waited while the maid entered, followed by six stout men. Two carried their bags from the coach, and the other four held a large bucket in each hand—steam rising from most of them. When they left, Duncan followed them out, the door closing quietly behind him.

“I’m Nora, my lady,” the maid said with a bob then laid out towels and soap.

“Could you help with the buttons up the back of my gown. Then lay out a nightgown?”

The girl was efficient, and soon Maggie sank into the tub, sighing as the heat surrounded her.

“Which bag holds your nightgowns, my lady?”

“I’m not sure. You’ll have to look through them all.”

As Nora busied herself unpacking, she slid deeper into the water, closing her eyes, letting the warmth soothe her sore muscles and frayed nerves.

“Oh, my!” the maid suddenly gasped. “I’ve never seen such fine fabric. Soft and rich, like butter, it is.”

Maggie opened one eye and, through the curls of steam, saw her holding up an ivory nightgown trimmed in the palest blue ribbon. “Where did you find that?” she asked, more sharply than intended, startling the maid.

“I’m s-sorry, ma’am. It was lying atop the first bag I opened. I’ll put it back.”

“No, Nora. Excuse me for snapping. I’m tired, and surprised. I’ve never seen that before.”

She held up a small wooden box tied with a satin bow. “This was under it.” The young woman inhaled. “It smells of roses.”

“Bring it over, please.”