Page 30 of Wild Wicked Scot
Arran glanced over his shoulder to see what had their attention, half expecting an invading English army. Or a funeral procession. Or a comet. What he didnotexpect to see was his wife riding astride a bay as if running from a fire. Her gown was hiked up around her knees, and her slippers were in the stirrups. Her hair had come partly undone from her coif, and she had no hat. He recalled that she was not a particularly experienced rider and wondered who had given her this horse.
Arran wheeled his much larger horse around. Son of a devil, what was she doing here? And why the bloody hell had someone not intercepted her?
She reined to an unsteady halt, slipping to one side but somehow managing to keep her saddle. “There you are!” she said with breathless cheerfulness.
“What are you doing here? This is no’ a place for a woman.” For an English buttercup, he meant, as any woman from the Highlands would be quite at ease with a bit of brawling.
“And why not?” Margot asked, leaning over to stroke the horse’s neck. “It’s grown men, punching each other. Nothing untoward in that, is there?”
She said it as if she rather enjoyed a good fight, which he knew could not be further from the truth. Arran looked past her to Balhaire. He expected to see Jock riding after her to corral her like a stray ewe. But no one was coming. Where were his men?
“Splendid day for it, too,” she continued breezily. “A daysosplendid that one might expect a man to accompany his wife on a picnic.” She arched a brow.
“A picnic,” he repeated slowly. He was fairly certain that was the first time in his life he’d ever uttered that word aloud.
“Or...or if not a picnic, then perhaps a walk about the gardens. Or an afternoon stroll along the shore. We’ve so much to discuss, haven’t we?”
He had never wasted a single day of his life with picnics or strolling gardens. “I’ve work to do,” he said flatly.
“Of course you do!” she said, her smile slow and easy, which he considered to be a practiced bit of women’s sorcery. “You may rest assured I’ve not forgotten your preference for work.”
He tilted his head curiously to one side. “I must be losing my hearing, aye? For when you saidwork, it sounded a wee bit sharp.”
“Did it? My apologies,” she said with a graceful nod that caused her loose tresses to fall into her face. “But I thought perhaps that as I have only just returned, we might enjoy one another’s company today. Don’t you want to talk? Haven’t you anything you’d like to say?”
A cough behind Arran reminded him that they had an audience. He tried not to squirm in his saddle; he could think of nothing more undignified than squabbling with his wife in front of his men, but he could see from the high color in Margot’s cheeks that it was a definite possibility.
“Madam, I—”
“Ithoughtwe might, mind you, but then I heard the mostdistressingnews.”
He sighed.
“Would you like to know what I heard? I heard thatyouwould like me to return to England.”
Arran opened his mouth, but she interrupted him before he could speak by raising a slender finger.
“Actually,” she said, “what I heard is that you aresendingme back to England. That rather makes it sound more like a fait accompli, doesn’t it? A banishment of sorts. But as I said to the poor man who finally admitted this awful rumor, it couldn’t possibly be true, because if it were, you would tell me yourself. Is that not so?” She smiled fully then, quite prettily, too. Except that her eyes were staring daggers at him.
Arran groaned. He glanced over his shoulder. He had the rapt attention of a dozen men. “All right, carry on, then,” he snapped. “Do none of you have wives?” He leaned down to grab the bridle of Margot’s horse. He wheeled the beast about, pointing it in the direction of Balhaire. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as they pulled away from the group.
“Asking a legitimate question.”
“Have you lost your mind, then? Riding down here on a horse you can scarcely control to interrupt the training?”
“I can control it! Perhaps it was a bit rash, but you can imagine how confused I was. I will admit, in the spirit of complete honesty between us, that I was quite hurt you could think tobanishme away after last night. I know you are displeased with me, Arran—”
“Displeased?”he echoed incredulously.
“But surely evenyourheart is not so hard that it can turn me away after I have humbled myself and we have come together as husband and wife again.” She arched a brow, daring him to contradict her.
“You thinkmyheart is hard?”
“I only mean that you’re not as sentimental as some.”
“For God’s sake, woman—whatever this is about, whatever you mean to do here, I’ve no’ the time or the patience for it, aye? I canna guess what’s brought you back so suddenly after a three-year absence, but it’s no’ for good or any other reason you claim.”
“But it is!” she insisted, pressing a hand to her heart. “I mean only to be a good wife.”
