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“No one has to if he forces his way and consolidates his power,” she added.
“He cannot do that if your brother has an heir,” Lachlan insisted.
“I strongly suspect Hamish poisoned my brother.” Malcom had been about to get married which may have precipitated her uncle’s actions to prevent a direct heir.
“Bluidy hell!” was all he said.
“An alliance with the McKendricks would provide support for the Darrochs.” Moira supplied, becoming disheartened by Lachlan’s noncommittal stance.
“And you had to abduct me for that?” Long fingers raked his luxuriant dark-brown hair while the other arm fisted his tapered waist. She made the colossal mistake of following his every move.
“Malcom sent a marriage proposal to The McKendrick and, after he died, I must have sent half a dozen at least.” She snapped. “All unanswered.”
“By which anyone would get the message,” he said. That Lachlan McKendrick was not about to get leg-shackled any time soon.
Since he seemed to be paying attention, she pressed ahead. “We need not stay married. After the danger is contained, we can divorce.”
“What do you propose to claim to get this divorce, your adultery, barrenness?” he taunted as if she said the stupidest nonsense in the world. A magistrate would demand a lawful reason to break a marriage: a wife’s adultery, her barrenness. Or insanity.
A divorce would come at a high cost of money and time. For Moira, it would also cost her ruin whatever the reason they gave. A divorced woman lost all and any prospect for a future match.
“I don’t care!” And she did not. “I have no intention to make another foray into marriage. Ever.” Her eyes met his with determination. “I just want to take care of my clan.” Truth be told, she harboured no wish for a match, not even this one. A man in her life would be a completely unnecessary complication.
“I cannot disagree with you there.” At thirty-two, the giant held no reason to walk down the aisle. Rich, handsome as sin, a member of a powerful clan which made enough alliances to last a millennium, the youngest McKendrick was free to enjoy life as he pleased.
She looked at him and sighed. No one could blame her for trying, though his refusal flourished.
“All right.” She blew out. “I don’t mean to be accused of forcing an inveterate bachelor into marriage.” The last of her energies drained away, and she sat on the old, sturdy chair behind the desk.
“What are you going to do?” He strode to the desk and looked down at her.
The weight of his stare made her insides nearly combust. For four years, she had been struggling with this nefarious attraction, she a woman who never planned to marry anyone. Luckily, they would not strike a bargain, or she would have a hard time resisting him. A silver lining in her awful situation.
“I’ll think of something.” Snatching her gaze from him, she pulled a ledger from the pile and groped for a pencil. “If you’ll excuse me, I have loads of work to do.” With a decisive flip, the ledger opened. “Your horse is where we left it.”
Lachlan observed her dismissive posture, and wondered if it was a means to draw his attention. Women of any age and station tried every trick in the book to get to him. As the minutes ticked by, she did not lift her head to him once. It was as if she had forgotten all about his presence.
There was a first time for everything in life.
An unprecedented deflated feeling filled him. A rather unpleasant first.
Moira Darroch might be petite with a delicate face, but the woman was a force to be reckoned with. As far as he could see, she had been holding her clan together single-handedly for more than a year. A ripple of admiration cut through him. And a sense of protectiveness arose from nowhere. He could not just turn his back and go on his merry way, leaving her to fend off a usurper and possible murderer of a Laird.
If he walked out, she would find someone else to do the job and marry her. Why it was vital such marriage did not happen he had no clue. But her fierceness and courage deserved his consideration.
“Fine,” he said, causing her head to shoot up in surprise as though she expected him to be gone. “I can agree to a temporary betrothal to put the Darroch in the right track.”
A crease formed between her shapely brows. “Betrothal?”
Her spine straightened in interest, pushing her breasts forward. He struggled not to glare at them, which almost caused him to smirk. Since when did he not register a woman’s assets if they were on display for his appreciation? “Yes, a public and official one,” he hastened to answer. “As good as marriage, but easily backed off from, you’ll agree.”
She stood up, giving him a full view of her slim waist, the thrust of her hips. He wondered if her legs would complete her silhouette as beautifully as he imagined.
“I suppose it should work,” she answered.
“With the advantage of not being as inescapable as marriage,” he added. He had not been tailored for the institution. To choose one woman above all the others seemed like the ultimate waste of time.
“Certainly. And I’d have no man bossing around when all is said and done.”
