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“You are the daughter of The McKendrick though.” He pointed. “They would mostly expect a maiden.”
“But they would have also required the dowry and the alliance.” She rebutted.
“Fair enough.” He acceded. “But grooms own those expectations.”
The past days and what transpired in the study took their toll on her as her eyes shot daggers at her older brother. “I am tired of having to rise to men’s expectations!” She blundered out, not minding her tongue.
His thumb and forefinger rubbed his jaw, reflective. “I see.”
“No, you do not!” She said hotly. “Growing up with the four of you assuming you could bend me as you saw fit did not sweeten me to overbearing men.”
“We were not that hard on you, I reckon.” Fingal tried to reconcile.
“Agreed. But if I accepted everything you dumped on me, I would be crazy by the time I turned fifteen.” The compromise a slight one. “And now I will marry into the same tune.”
“It is not as if he has completely disregarded your wishes.” He defended. “McDougal came here for your hand after all.”
“Yes, he did.” No chance of denying it. “Only because I allowed him no less.”
Her brother nodded. “Anyone can feel the vibration when you both are in the same room. There is more than mere clan alliance there.”
Who would argue with this? “An alliance which will reshape the Highlands, I daresay.” She ventured.
“I am sure of that.” The tall McKendrick said before going to the stables to take care of his precious horses; and she resumed the managing of the manor.
~.~.~
Dinner became naturally a dull event where the men discussed the marriage arrangements and the contract.
They talked as though they had been old friends, drat it!
Mostly, Aileen kept out of the conversation, which did not include her much anyway. That she would marry The McDougal and what it entailed baffled and stunned her in equal measure. Until today she did not seriously consider marriage to him. The presumption that she would be able to skip it prevented her from facing the question head on as she should. No more, it seemed.
The deceptive part, though, proved to be straining. His presence at the table she had shared exclusively with her family up to tonight, disquieted her. He unbalanced her to the point of distraction. Her stomach tolerated a modicum of nourishment. The sight of him, tall, red and black plaid among the green and black ones, made him stand out. Her heart somersaulted every time she had to look at him as he talked. The nearness scalding her senses as the candelabra illuminated his remarkable eyes. The same that flushed on her with earth quaking constancy.
She looked forward to the end of the meal.
Finally, she headed for the drawing room to do her sewing while the men retreated to the study for their whisky.
~.~.~
In her dressing room, she changed into her nightgown and combed her hair, trying not to remember the giant would be barely two doors away from her. The temptation to sneak into his chambers so palpable, she might taste it.
The devil had the power to lead her astray with the snap of his fingers.
At the threshold to her chamber, she froze. The implacable warrior sat on an armchair in the moonlight as if he owned all the right to be there.
That accomplice heart of hers raced to immeasurable speed at his presence. Hot and molten, her centre recognised him instantly.
Eyes meshed, they remained immobile for long minutes.
“What are you doing here?” She did not need to ask the breathy question. She knew. And she wanted him there; though confessing it listed as another thing entirely.
“The idea of waiting for you to come to my chambers bored me.” His deep-voiced words bathed her in warm honey. Those words themselves caused a rebellion in her clear mind, and she gasped involuntarily.
That bold gaze sauntered over her, heating every inch of where they reached. Like a touch. Two days without him, not two centuries, for pity’s sake!
“I was not going to do it.” She declared, hopefully convincing.
