Page 93 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

Would Daphne resent him for announcing it that way? Should he have done things differently?

Too late now.

Nay, I was right, he told himself firmly. This is the way. The only way.

Footsteps sounded on the stone floor behind him.

He sighed. “It’s either Magnus or Skye standing behind me. I’ll take a guess and say Skye.”

“Ye are too clever for yer own bloody good,” his sister huffed.

He glanced over his shoulder, grinning as she approached.

“I thought I’d find ye up here,” she said bluntly. “Up here alone, instead of talking to yer betrothed.”

“I’m nae sure me betrothed would want to talk to me.”

Skye rested her elbows on the parapet and stared out at the forest, swallowing up carriage after carriage.

“She’s shocked,” she revealed. “This isnae a love match.”

“It’s complicated.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s what she said. I’m quite tired of hearing those words, Brother. Explain to me how it’s complicated.”

“I cannae.”

She shifted, leaning her hip against the stone wall and folding her arms across her chest. “Ye have a child together, so ye must have been attracted to each other at least,” she reasoned. “It was five years ago.”

“Attraction isnae the issue,” he ground out.

“Well, what is? Ceana’s convinced ye arenae in love and that her sister is only doing this for her daughter. But me? I think differently. I want to hear what ye think. And I swear to God, if ye tell me it’s complicated, I’ll push ye over this wall right here and now.”

He sniffed. “I’d like to see ye try.”

Skye didn’t argue the point. She only arched her eyebrows expectantly.

He heaved a sigh. “She kens about the vow. I didnae tell her how it came to be.”

“Daenae ye think ye should?”

He closed his eyes. “I cannae.”

“Hunter…”

“Just… Just give me time. I will tell her one day, but nae… nae yet.”

A brief silence fell between them.

Sighing, Skye glanced at the horizon, as if waiting for the pink-gold dawn to appear.

“She doesnae trust ye,” she said, somewhat tiredly. “She told her sister that the match was doomed.”

“And how did she say it? With relief?”

“Relief? Nay. I thought she was on the brink of tears. Once, she got up and paced up and down the room, and wouldnae look at either of us. Me guess is that a doomed match is the last thing she wants. But a woman like her, who’s lived on her wits for so long, well… trust matters to her.”

“Lived on her wits? She was a rich woman’s companion.”