Page 31 of Wouldn’t it Be Scottish?

She seemed to be waiting for something.

“But what about our engagement!” Donal cried, far too loudly.

Several other dancers turned to stare, and then there was more of that damned whispering. Didn’t these people have lives of their own?

Agatha appeared surprised by his vehemence. “We don’t have to be engaged.” She dropped her voice. “Perhaps we should have this conversation in the garden where no one can eavesdrop.”

Donal agreed and followed her through the glass doors. It occurred to him that he had been following Agatha since the moment he met her. He had agreed with and taken part in her schemes, and life had become so much more interesting. But now his time in London was coming to an end. What awaited him if Agatha wasn’t with him? He had thought he wanted nothing more than to live at Bonnyrigg for the rest of his life but now he was beginning to think that if Agatha were not there too, then he might find his beloved home lacking.

Outside, there was a terrace with shallow steps down to a lawn, and then a border of shrubs and a trimmed hedge. There was a full moon lighting their way, and he could smell honeysuckle.

“At least it isn’t raining,” Agatha said.

“No,” he agreed, and vividly remembered how her dress had clung to her and how he could see through it to her naked body. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but she was already moving across the lawn toward the hedge. There was a path that led farther into the garden and they followed it until they came upon a summer house and then a circular pond with a fountain in the middle. There was a seat placed for contemplation.

Agatha sat down and so did he. A fish came to the surface of the pond as if to see who was disturbing its peace and quiet before vanishing again with a splash. Agatha didn’t seem to notice, her thoughts turned inward, her face grave.

“You were going to talk to me,” Donal reminded her, watching her profile in the moonlight. “About our engagement.”

“Was I?” she asked him. Then she heaved a sigh as if it was all too much for her. “There are other things I should tell you, just in case you think I was aware of them when I suggested our engagement. Which I swear to you I was not.” She gave him an earnest look, but her eyes were worried. They appeared very pale in this light, almost silver, and Donal would have been happy to gaze into them and not talk at all.

But something was worrying Agatha, and he needed to find out what it was so that he could put it right.

“I think we should stay engaged,” he said and ignored the startled look she gave him. “The scandal will go away faster if we show a united front. In case you want to return to London, I mean.”

She seemed to be struggling to find words. “You want to stay engaged?”

“And I think I should come with you to your home on the borders. A man would no’ let his beloved go off alone when he could go with her.”

“Come home with me?” She sounded breathless. “But Donal, aren’t you brokenhearted about Mary?”

“No, I’m not brokenhearted. I dinna know what I ever saw in her, if you want the truth, Agatha. I’d much rather be engaged to you.”

“Donal,” she whispered. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want to marry you. In truth.”

She laughed shakily, her eyes shining. “I want to marry you too.”

Donal didn’t want any more talk. He just wanted to kiss her. He leaned in and his lips captured hers. She gasped and that was perfect because he could run his tongue along that soft fullness and then inside.

Why was kissing Agatha so much better than kissing anyone else? And she seemed to enjoy it too, resting against him so that he could feel the swell of her breasts. He nuzzled against her throat and she arched her head back to give him better access, making little sounds of pleasure.

Oh yes, this was much nicer than talking.

Chapter Eighteen

Miriam wondered what was happening with Agatha and Donal. It surprised her how invested she was in their situation. Not that long ago she wouldn’t have cared less, but now she felt as if she knew them, and she had become part of their family.

Dangerous, that was dangerous.

She had already made the decision to walk away from Archie, so what on earth did she think she was doing playing stepmother to his daughter? Besides, she had a feeling Archie was going to end things between them tonight. He had been giving her sideways looks and kept taking deep breaths as if he was about to launch into a speech, only to stop himself at the last moment.

Each time her heart gave a judder, waiting for the axe to fall. And every time he didn’t say the words she was expecting, she was able to take a calming breath.

But of course the final moment had to come, and it happened when they sat down to supper. Archie had chosen a table at the back of the room, and she suspected why. She wasn’t at all surprised when he leaned in closer to her and said, “Miriam, I have something to tell you.”

So here it was. The end. Carefully she set down her fork by her plate of fish and asparagus in white sauce. When she turned to look at him, Archie was staring down at his own plate, the food untouched. She could see his hands clasped together, the knuckles white from the strength of his hold.