Page 77 of Wild Wicked Scot
“It’s lovely. You are very kind to offer us a bed,” Margot said.
Mrs. Burns grunted some response and went out, closing the door firmly behind her.
Arran locked the door. He walked around the small room, moving the drapes so he could see what was out the window in the unlikely event they should be forced to exit from here. He wouldn’t rule anything out—he did not feel entirely safe.
When he was convinced there was no one lurking to slay them in their sleep, no poisonous asps, no deadly spiders, he turned around. Margot was standing in the middle of the room, her shirttails pulled free of her trews. Her hair was sticking up in strange places, and her coat was dirty, as if she’d brushed up against a tree covered in lichen. Dark circles were beginning to shadow her eyes.
“You are weary,” he said. He took the coat from her and laid it on a chair. “Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to a bed so small he couldn’t imagine how it would hold both of them.
Margot sat and watched impassively as he knelt down on one knee to remove her boots.
When he’d pulled them off her feet, he glanced up. Her face was ashen. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t do that,” she said, looking at her feet. “Don’t be kind to me. I don’t deserve your kindness—”
“Margot—”
“I don’t!” she exclaimed, and covered her face with her hands. “I’ve been socake-headed. You’re all right, I’ve been the biggest fool—how could I have been so stupid?”
Arran waited for tears. Three years ago, she would have disintegrated with them. But when she lifted her face from her hands, Arran didn’t see tears. He saw the fire of anger in her eyes. “I amfilledwith fury,” she said low, her hands curling into fists.
“You canna blame yourself for believing those who are duty-bound to protect you.”
She seemed not to have heard him. “It will be all right, Arran. I know you don’t believe me, but I swear it on my life.”
“I’d rather you no’ swear so zealously in the event—”
“I mean it. I will never be so naive again.”
Arran couldn’t help a wry smile. He cupped her face with his hand. “Donna promise what’s impossible,leannan.”
She ignored his teasing and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “Are you still angry with me?”
“Ach, no,” he admitted. He understood the untenable situation in which she’d been placed. “But I am disheartened.”
Margot groaned and bowed her head. She dropped her hand from his wrist. “I think that is far worse.”
Arran heaved himself up, falling onto that lumpy bed. Margot curled up against him. He felt some small comfort in her soft shape against his and slipped his arm beneath her, holding her firmly against him.
* * *
ATDAWNTHEnext morning, they rode out. Their travel was long and grueling, and Arran expected Margot to crumple the closer they drew to Norwood Park. He expected tears and complaints. But she surprised him—she stoically bore the hardship, and to his greater surprise, she even took responsibility for her horse. She fed the pony and brushed him. She led him to drink and delighted when she found brambles to feed him. This woman, with the tangled auburn hair and filthy clothes, was so far removed from the lass in the ball gown he’d first seen on the balcony at Norwood Park that Arran scarcely recognized her.
He loved the woman she was now. She was slowly becoming the sort of woman he’d always imagined he would marry. Seductive and elegant, yet battle-tested and strong. And as he looked at her on the back of the pony, he couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the end of their story.
The story seemed unfinished.
Perhaps that was his wishful thinking.
They were only hours from Norwood Park when they stopped at a proper inn for the night to rest and prepare for meeting her family. Arran sent for a bath—it cost him a proper fortune, but he didn’t care. Margot was delighted; when the lads had filled the tub, she quickly stripped down and sank into the steaming water. “Oh my,” she said, and closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the edge of the tub. “It’s heaven, Arran. A white fluffy piece of heaven.”
“I’ll wash your hair, shall I?”
“Oh, please.”
He used a pitcher from the water basin and poured water over her tresses.
She’d closed her eyes, and dark lashes fanned out against skin that had turned pink and freckled in the sun during this journey.
