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Towards the end, Samuel turned his head to his father. “If you want, I can abdicate in favour of Roy.” It fell as a meteor on the table.
Taran snapped his eyes to him none too agreeable.
Aileen glared at father and son, braced her hands on the surface and stood up, fire spitting from her eyes. “You both leave the boys out of this!” she breathed hotly. “Sam is the heir to the McDougal, so deal with the situation!”
Any other mother would have rejoiced to realise her own son would inherit. How many queens did not struggle for this to happen? It seemed the Lady McDougal had standards of her own. Harriet admired her for it.
“Maybe I should retire,” Harriet said shyly. This was strictly clan’s affairs. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come.
Aileen looked at her, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry we’re proving to be such inconsiderate hosts.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she reass
ured her hostess.
“I suggest we all retire and sleep on it. Tomorrow we can resume in a cooler temper.” And extended her hand to her husband, who did not hesitate to take it, excuse himself and declare dinner finished.
In their chambers, Aileen turned to Taran. “What did you say to Sam?”
His gaze averted from hers. “Nothing much.” She realised he wanted to divert the subject.
“What, Taran?”
At that, her husband had no choice. “I tried to explain to him about widows.”
His wife rubbed a hand on her forehead. “Good gracious!”
“What was I supposed to do?” Hands on tapered waist, legs braced, she almost faltered at his power of attraction.
“Anything but calling her nothing short of a whore!”
“I did not do that,” he countered without so much certainty.
“Not in so many words, no.”
“He asked her to marry him. Luckily, she refused.”
She took a large gulp of air. Her husband was a good man, but rather…old-fashioned in these matters. “I talked to her, she’s a good woman.”
“I get that, but Sam has great responsibilities ahead of him.”
“Precisely.” She neared him and pierced his eyes with hers. “Has it occurred to you to give him support?”
“Of course I’ll support him, but not in this.” Stubborn was another of her husband’s ‘qualities’.
“He’s a grown man, Taran. He has the right to choose his own path.”
In the hallway, one door opened and closed hushed, then another opened and closed. She would bet the entire McKendrick and McDougal lands that Sam’s chambers were empty. She turned to her husband, crossed her arms and stared, as if saying, there you have it, he chose where he’s spending the night.
His green gaze darted in the direction of the hallway. “Bluidy hell!” he exclaimed in exasperation.
“Sam had such a difficult childhood,” she lamented. “Give him some breathing room.”
Her husband raked his gorgeous dark hair. “Fine! I won’t meddle, is that good enough for you?”
She opened a dazzling smile to him, glued her person to his and looked up his rugged face with adoration. “Perfectly so.” And pulled him for a kiss.
He smiled, love in his eyes. “You always get what you want, Buidseach.” Witch, his tender moniker to her. Hands on her shoulders, he pulled her to him.
