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“I did nothing to deserve this insult,” he argued with displeasure.
“Not yet,” she sustained.
Lachlan paced the carpet, hands raking his hair. “Your judgement is clouded by someone else’s story.” He turned to her, anger threatening to pour out of him. He could not believe she was imposing this estrangement on them because of other people’s lives.
Her gaze stayed him, a serious expression on her delicate face. “Perhaps, but I’m not willing to risk the humiliation my aunt had to bear all her married life.”
He halted before her, looking down on her hazel irises. “You’re condemning us both to loneliness based on the experience that’s not yours.”
“You’ll not be lonely for long,” she insisted.
“I’m not that kind of man.”
“How can I be sure?”
“For one, my father was a faithful husband, and he was the role model I’ve had.”
Her head tilted to one side. “I have to admit your brothers seem quite steady.”
He nodded in agreement. “I want no other woman, only you,” he confessed not very comfortable with the fact.
Her glare bulged on him in surprise, her cheeks reddened. “It’s because I’m still a novelty.”
“Bluidy hell, Moira!” he exploded. “You’re so set on your convictions you cannot see what’s right before your eyes!”
Her both hands raised in a gesture to calm him. “Fine, I’ll admit you gave me no reason for suspicion so far.”
The last two words evinced her reservations firmly in place.
“I’ll thank you for your extensive trust,” he mocked acidly.
Husband and wife fell silent, each ruminating their own thoughts for a long while.
Lachlan expelled lengthy air through his nostrils. “Here’s the deal,” he started, they could not remain in this stalemate. “If I ever stray, I promise to leave, so you won’t bear any humiliation.” In his view, the possibility was remote to say the least. “Until then, we proceed as we started.”
Her head lowered in deep reflection. Long minutes elapsed. “I need time to think,” she requested, lifting her head to him.
Not ripping his gaze from her he nodded. At least, she had granted the matter further consideration.
“Though any magistrate will agree that you have marital rights,” she added.
Irritably he pierced her with his glare. “That is not what it’s about,” he replied in an obdurate tone. “I’d never force you to anything.”
A faint grin pulled her delicious lips. “I know.”
That was something, he soothed himself, and responded with a grin of his own.
Stillness dominated the drawing room again, both standing before one another like two statues.
“I’d better retire,” she said at last. “Good night.” And did not give him time to answer before she left.
Lachlan strode to where he had left the whisky, picked it up and tossed the content as it went down in a burning trail.
Moira and Lachlan sat at the small dining room while the servants served their dinner next evening.
She had slept badly, her mind whirling around their conversation in the drawing room. If she were to listen to her gut feelings, she would have accepted his proposal then and there. But her logical thought resisted tenaciously. Fear of going through what her aunt had. It also played a huge role in her restlessness. So her night had gone by amid her torn thoughts.
The footman, John, neared Lachlan to pour him wine. Her husband declined, preferring to stick to his clan’s whisky. She looked at him sitting at the head of the table impressive in his McKendrick tartan; and he caused shivers in her.
