Page 20 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
He had no business noticing such things.
When he finally spoke, his voice was cool and steady as stone.
“I decide what trouble I am willing to take on. You would do well to remember that, Lady Marion. As for repaying me,” he countered, “you can. By steering clear of my sister.”
Her brows knitted together. “What do ye mean by that, Yer Grace?”
“What I mean, Lady Marion,” he started while taking a step towards her, “is that you and your circumstances amount to an imminent scandal. Bringing you here was necessary, and I will ensure you remain safe. But Verity’s disappearance has already set thetonwhispering. Managing the consequences is my responsibility, and I will do so. But we cannot court more trouble. You will leave this house tomorrow. I will oversee the arrangements myself.”
“But… what ye said earlier at dinner?” Marion asked softly. “Ye said I’d leave later this week. I thought I’d have a wee bit of’ time with Verity.”
Anselm’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That was the plan. But circumstances have changed. I cannot risk your safety or my sister’s. You’ll need to prepare to leave sooner than expected.”
Marion frowned. Her face flushed with resentment as she wondered just how red she could get.
“Risk yer sister’s safety? What do ye mean by that, Yer Grace?”
The Duke’s gaze was steady and unreadable. “It is a matter of discretion,” he said coolly. “The fewer complications surrounding Verity, the better.”
Marion’s brows drew together again as the weight of his words settled heavily.
“Complications?” she echoed as her voice tightened. “Ye’ll have to be plainer than that, Yer Grace. I deserve to ken exactly what ye’re implying.”
His jaw tightened ever so slightly. He held her gaze for a long moment, silently, as though weighing whether she was even worth the explanation.
Then, finally, his patience thinned just enough to slip through his tone.
“You,” he said quietly but sharp, “are a bad influence on my sister.”
The words landed between them with the precision of a blade.
“A bad influence?” Marion scoffed as her temper sparked. “Ye speak as though I ordered her to flee!” She threw a hand toward the room around them. “Ye ken very well, Yer Grace, that I dinnae ken Verity had run from this place until I hopped into yer carriage. Not before.”
The Duke’s gaze hardened. His voice was cutting, though he kept it level. “I did not suggest you orchestrated her escape, my lady.” His words were clipped and precise. “But she certainly seems to believe it was the right choice. And that, I suspect, is your doing.”
Marion’s breath caught, but only for a heartbeat. Then her eyes narrowed as they became sharp and bright with fury.
“Me doin’?” Her voice dropped so that it was quiet but scalding. “Aye, I encouraged her to stand her ground. Because we both believe a woman should have a say over her own life, to chase her dreams instead of settlin’ as some man’s wife. For that is far from the grand purpose of a woman’s existence.”
Her voice was rising before she realized it. Her anger was sharp and sudden and it burned through her restraint.
He took a step toward her. Then another.
Marion’s back met the study door with a soft thud. Her breath caught in her throat as he closed the distance between them. He wasn’t touching her—not yet—but she could feel the heat of him and sense the tension crackling in the narrow space between their bodies.
His green eyes locked on hers, burning—not just with fury, but something deeper, darker. Something neither of them dared name.
“You were always going to be trouble,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, meant more for himself than her but she heard every word.
His gaze dropped, lingering anddevouring, before dragging back up to meet her eyes.
“I knew it the moment you looked at me,” he added. His breath ghosted against her skin. His nearness was overwhelming—too much, yet not enough. “A tempest within my own home.”
Every part of her was sharply aware of him—of the power coiled in his frame and the faint scent of brandy and cedar that clung to him.
She should’ve pushed him away.
Instead, she swayed closer, caught somewhere between fury and something far more dangerous. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
