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He turned to her so abruptly that their lips almost touched. Leaning back, Clarissa gripped the stem of her goblet more tightly.
“Anything?”
“Anything,” she said, her voice firm and her resolve even more so.
The corner of his lips rose, ever so slightly, and Clarissa nearly melted into her seat. It was the first time he’d smiled all day.
He took a swig from his drink, not bothering to look if anyone else had noticed them. Which they hadn’t. Or at least they’d pretended not to.
Aidan was watching her now, a probing stare that sent shivers down her spine and to her very core.
“In that case—” he placed the goblet back onto the table and leaned toward her, “—I would wed and bed you, my lady.” Before she had time to be surprised by his bluntness, he added, “Though not necessarily in that order.”
Chapter 27
“Father, may I speak with you?”
The meal had ended some time ago. Clarissa had left the hall with Allie and Gillian, their knowing so unmistakable, he’d almost laughed at them. His sisters had clearly decided to involve themselves in his romance, and he could not say he minded. He’d stayed to speak with Graeme and Reid, who had been even more direct in their encouragement. They, too, had retired for the evening, but Aidan had elected to wait for Father Simon, who’d gone to the village. The priest had arrived a few moments before, but Aidan had waited for his food to arrive before asking anything of him.
“Of course, Aidan. How may I be of assistance?”
The priest sat in front of a trencher of food piled high by servants who clearly knew the man well.
“You will forgive me if I eat?” Father asked. “I did not expect to be gone so long.”
“Of course.” He waved his hand, indicating that he should do so. “You have heard Clarissa has returned?”
Father Simon nodded, though a mouthful of bread and cheese prevented him from speaking.
“I would like you to marry us tomorrow, before you leave.”
Father stopped chewing. When he resumed, Aidan held his breath.
“Can I assume the lady is in agreement?”
Aidan thought of her reaction when he’d so crudely asked her that very question. As always, her thoughts had flitted across her face for the world to see—surprise, then relief, then something more.
From the very moment they’d sat down for the meal, he’d noticed something had changed in her. She was . . . more assured. Full of resolve. And while his anger had taken longer to abate, he’d known all along it wouldn’t linger. All he had ever wanted was for Clarissa to love herself as much as he loved her. To understand that she was as valuable as any member of their clan. If it took fleeing to Burness and a near-death experience to make that happen . . . then he could almost be thankful events had unfolded in such a way.
Surely Jon would disagree.
“Aye, Father. She is.”
Father Simon took another bite, chewing much too slowly for Aidan.
“She’d not have made a very good nun,” he said finally.
Laughing, Aidan had to agree. “But she will make the perfect wife. Father, say you will—”
“Of course, I will be honored.”
He was about to thank him when Father Simon added, “On the condition that you open yourself to the same God that brought you and Clarissa together.”
Aidan’s eyes narrowed. “You would bargain with me to take mass?”
“Aye, I would,” Father said, clearly unapologetic. With a swig of wine, he added, “So do we prepare for a wedding on the morrow?”
He’d been avoiding mass since his mother had passed, but no longer. He would look forward, and not back. Tomorrow he would begin his life anew.
