“Nae mutton,” Grannie Ava explained quietly. “Sheep will be slaughtered at yer wedding to make sure there is enough meat for our guests. Haggis would be made with the offal later.”
“Violet,” Keira called, taking a break from forcing a mouthful of porridge down her throat. “When is yer wedding?”
The question threw Violet off guard, even though she knew that the girl was just asking in the hope of getting to eat her favorite meal soon.
“Soon,” she told her with a smile, doing her best to hide how disconcerted she was by the question.
If the haggis was as good as they had said it was, then it deserved a place on her list.
Eat haggis.
Since eating haggis seemed to be tied to an event…
Get married.
The second addition caused her heart to thump faster with a curious mix of anticipation, uncertainty, and trepidation.
She decided that getting married to Ruaridh was a boon. Apart from the fact that it would allow her to give rein to the desire that flared hot between them, there was also the fact that he was a laird of a large clan who seemed to adore her. Marriage to him will protect her from the antics of her father and any other less savory suitor he might come up with.
But while she loved the Highlands and Clan McLeod, she was aware of the many challenges that would arise for her as an Englishwoman who hoped to help lead Highlanders. It would take a lot of her will and quite a little bit of time to gain their trust and respect.
She knew that when she eventually became Ruaridh’s wife, his men would be duty-bound to respect her, but she wanted to gain that respect on her own merit, and she was not deluded enough to believe it would be easy.
While she knew that Ruaridh was a responsible man who would care for her and protect her, his desire for her was a bonus. Under normal circumstances, it would be enough. Except that she had always entertained the idea of marrying for love, even when her engagement to Lord Westall had made it seem impossible. She had held on to a tendril of hope that she would be saved.
Ruaridh had saved her, and every day she spent in his presence, she suspected that she might be slowly falling in love with him.Would she be content to accept only his care while he possessed the entirety of her heart?
Well, that was a question that did not require an answer immediately, in her opinion, seeing that completing her list was going to buy her some time.
Except now that she thought about it, with his flirting, kisses, and the horse riding and swimming lessons, he had gone through almost half of the items on her list, and soon she would no longer have an excuse to avoid her impending nuptials.
Just as she could feel the familiar edge of panic rising, the object of her thoughts strode into the room, Logan trailing him. He was walking purposely towards them, his long legs eating up the space between them in a few strides.
“Good morn, ladies,” he greeted with a slight bow when he reached them. His eyes found hers, and once again, she was lost in the tenderness of his voice and proximity.
It seemed her entanglement with this man was fast on its way to becoming irrevocable.
11
Ruaridh did not shift his gaze, even as Logan whispered something in his ear. He just nodded in approval before turning to them with a bright smile.
“It appears we have a celebration to plan,” he announced, turning to Grannie Ava.
An event?Violet thought, horror surging through her. Surely he had not thought to move up their wedding without her knowledge?
They had not finished the items on her list. He had promised to train her to be an expert horsewoman and swimmer before their marriage. Surely, he did not intend to change his mind without consulting her?
She was going to give him hell if he tried.
Locking eyes with him, she studied his face for any clue as to the nature of the celebration that was to be planned, but his expression remained impassive, giving away nothing.
That was one of the traits that made him a good warrior, this ability to hide his thoughts from others, but at that moment, she resented it.
“What celebration, Da?” Keira asked, breaking the tension. “Are we going to eat haggis there?”
“Aye, lass,” Ruaridh replied with an indulgent smile. “Ye can have all the haggis ye want. Just daenae overdo it.”
“Nay, I willnae overdo it. I finished me porridge today,” she said, gesturing to her plate that still had bites of porridge on it.
