Page 7 of Bound to a Scot
Macfie’s face darkened with an expression of irritation, his lips pressed together tightly, and his eyes narrowed. But he nodded to his daughter.
“Give us a minute alone, daughter,” he said brusquely.
Cecilia looked from her father to Maddox, her face quivering with fear as if she’d done something wrong, as if she lived under the constant threat of punishment. Maddox felt awful for her.
“’Twas nice tae meet ye, lass,” he said. “Ye’re a lovely girl.”
“Thank ye, Laird MacLachlan.”
“Please, call me Maddox.”
“I think it best if she refers tae ye by yer proper title,” Macfie said. “The girl needs tae remember her manners as well as her place.”
There was much Maddox wanted to say but he bit his words off, not wanting to cause a scene in front of the girl. She was distressed enough. Cecilia gave him a friendly, if a bit stiff, smile and a graceful curtsy before turning and practically sprinting from the room, slamming the chamber door behind her.
She hadn’t said a word and had been nothing but a proper lady, but Maddox could tell she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of marrying him. He’d seen it in her eyes. However, she was willing to do her duty to her family. Maddox understood all too well that notion, but that didn’t stop him from feeling terrible for the girl.
“Well?” Macfie asked. “What dae ye think? She’s a beauty, isnae she?”
“Aye. She’s a very pretty girl,” Maddox agreed. “But that’s the problem, Laird Macfie. She’s but a girl. How many summers has she seen? Fourteen? Fifteen?”
“She’s just seen her fifteenth year. Cecilia is in her prime child bearin’ years.”
Maddox shuddered. At thirty-one years himself, he was twice her age, and he did not fancy the idea of taking a child bride. But it was a delicate line to walk because he had no desire to offend Laird Macfie by refusing him outright. He took another drink of wine and cleared his throat.
“Me second wife was fifteen when we married,” Macfie said. “Unfortunately, fer me, she’s barren and unable tae bear me a child, or so it seems. But me own daughter willnae have that problem. She’ll bear ye many heirs.”
“As I said, she’s a lovely girl,” Maddox said. “But I wonder if there’s a way we can seal our alliance without a marriage. We both benefit?—”
Macfie waved his hand irritably, cutting him off. “Nay. A marriage bonds clans taegether in ways a simple word doesnae. Makes those bonds tight.”
“Are ye questionin’ me word, Laird Macfie?”
“Nay. From all I’ve learned, ye’re a good, honorable man who always holds true to yer word.”
“Then take me at me word that I’ll hold up me end?—”
“What is it? Is me Cecilia nae good enough fer ye, Laird MacLachlan?”
Macfie’s face darkened with offense and anger. The man was bristling and looked ready to start throwing haymakers. His pride and ego were pushing him toward the edge and Maddox knew if he didn’t bring the temperature down, one of them was going to do something they would both come to regret.
“’Tis nae that, Burchard. As I keep sayin’, she’s lovely and will make a fine wife one day,” he said. “But I’m nae lookin’ tae get married. If there’s some other way we?—”
“Absolutely nae. The only proper way tae seal a pact is through marriage.”
“Laird Macfie?—”
“Ye’re dangerously close tae offendin’ me, Laird MacLachlan. It sounds like ye’re sayin’ me daughter isnae good enough fer ye.”
“’Tis nae what I’m sayin’. I’ve told ye that. I just dinnae want tae be married,” he replied. “Nor dae I want tae marry a child.”
The man balled his hands into fists as he glowered at Maddox, looking ready to jump across the table and throttle him. The tension in the air around them rose, and Maddox’s body grew taut as he prepared to defend himself. Before things got out ofhand though, Macfie forced his hands open and let out a deep breath, making himself relax.
“Ye’ve had a long journey tae get here and ye must be tired,” he said, his voice still tight. “I’ll have ye seen tae yer chambers and we can talk again on the morrow.”
“Laird Macfie?—”
“We’ll speak on this on the morrow.”
