Page 54 of His Highland Duchess
“Nothing to feel a fright over.”
“It will be if they learn the truth of how we met…” She raised her eyebrow back at him in warning.
“Which is why they won’t,” he assured her. “Trust me, Margaret. There is nothing to worry about today, and certainly no reason to fret. Unless you are worried about what they will think of me?”
“Of course nae.”
“That settles it then.” He squeezed her gently. “Now, stop being so nervous. They will be here any moment and the last thing I need is for them to think that I am holding you hostage.”
She laughed. “Maybe ye are and all this is just my way of making ye lower your guard so that I might flee when ye least suspect it.”
“If that is the case, you are doing a wonderful job.” He winked. “Consider my guard lowered.”
She took his other hand and kissed the back of it, needing him to see how grateful she was. Of course she was nervous, worried, damn terrified of what today might bring. But she also felt a sense of resolve with Lysander beside her, here to support as he had promised that he would. It gave her much-needed strength. And that was needed for two reasons.
The first was her relationship with her husband, which on the surface was going perfectly and wonderfully in nearly every respect. They got along well. They clearly relished each other’s company. It was a marriage in every sense of the word, progressing even better than she had hoped. The only problem, as she saw it, was that as well as everything seemed to be going, Margaret could not help but feel a distance between them that refused to be bridged. It was not obvious. It was not that noticeable. But there were times when it felt as if Lysander was purposefully keeping her at arm's length. Although why he was doing such a thing…
And the fact that we have not been together physically yet is also a concern. Dammit, we have not even kissed properly since that night at the ball!
She was certain it was all in her own head. What was more, she was certain that if today went well, it would act as that much-needed bridge, confirming once and for all that this marriage was for keeps. But that was the other reason she needed strength today.
Margaret and her husband were standing in the front drive of the manor, arm in arm, waiting patiently as any momentMargaret’s family was sure to arrive, here to meet her husband for the first time.
With Lysander beside her, his arm still around her waist, she was feeling better than she had all day. But then she saw their carriage appear by the gateway.
“They’re here!” The nerves flooded her again. “They’re here. Is everything ready? Are we –”
“Easy,” he chuckled. “I told you already, it’s going to be fine.”
“You do not have to meet them if you do not wish to,” she offered, giving Lysander a way out.
He frowned. “And why would I not wish for that?”
“I dinnae ken…”
“Margaret…” He shook his head. “I am your husband. Your family wishes to meet me. It really is as simple as that. There is no need to panic.”
And she believed him. She needed to believe him. Lysander was here, as he had been these last two weeks. All Margaret had to do was stop second-guessing everything and looking for reasons why it might fall apart.And most of all, da nae da anything to give him a reason to run.
The carriage came to a stop a dozen feet away from them. Margaret tensed. The duke held her. She felt her pulse quicken, but she stayed calm and ready, smiling as the door swung open and her younger brother’s face appeared.
“Margaret!” he cried joyously, jumping down from the carriage. “It is so guid to see ye!” Graham was fifteen years old, even if he looked older. But his personality was boyish still, bright-eyed and filled with eager energy, such that he laughed gaily as he hurried to greet her.
“Graham.” She pulled away from her brother and threw her arms around him. “Oh, how I have missed ye.”
“Liar,” he teased. “I bet ye have nae though’ of me once!”
She was about to rebuke him when she spied her mother stepping out of the carriage. And then her father. Margaret’s eyes lit up, and she hurried around her brother, reaching them both as they stepped down.
“Mother! Father!” She wrapped them both in a hug. “Ye made it.”
“Of course, dear,” her mother said with a warm smile. “I will nae say it was an easy journey, however. Ye know how yer father loves ta complain.”
“She says complain. I say that all I was doin’ was makin’ note of obvious discomforts. The seats in that carriage, far example…”He held his back and grimaced. “I cannae feel anythin’ from the waist down, and everythin’ north of that hurts.”
Margaret’s mother was a dainty creature who only seemed to be growing smaller with age. Her father, on the other hand, was taken by the opposite effect. Once a tall and strapping specimen, his stomach was now easily his most noticeable feature. And if not that, his jowls, which wobbled as he laughed, which he did often. His hair was auburn like Margaret’s and Graham’s, while her mother had green eyes, which she had given each of her children.
“Where is Isobel?” she looked about eagerly, her smile widened to see Isobel climbing down from the carriage. She was but four, a tiny thing, and it made the climb down seem far more perilous than it was.
