Page 89 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
Isobel drew back to find Adrian was indeed behind her, and he was indeed scowling. Really, she shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Are you ready to depart?” he asked, a chill in his voice.
Eliza squeezed her hand. “You should consider speaking more nicely to your wife, Adrian.”
“I’ll speak to her how I like.” But something flickered across his eyes, and he reached out a hand to her. “Come home with me, Isobel.”
There were things to discuss, and Lord Moreton lurked here somewhere. Isobel couldn’t wait to leave, and yet she dreaded going home. She didn’t want to have to face this new coldness, as though they had never been married.
The ache in her chest made her want to cry.
But she took his hand anyway. “Let’s go,” she said quietly, then glanced back at Eliza. “Remember what I told ye.”
“I will,” Eliza promised. Then, in Gaelic, she added, “Innis dhomh ma tha thu sàbhailte.”
Tell me if you’re safe.
“Aye,” Isobel said. “I will.”
They nodded at each other, and Isobel followed Adrian through the thinning crowd. In front of prying eyes, they appeared to be the perfect couple, but the moment they stepped outside, he dropped her arm and stepped away from her.
“Adrian,” she said, but he shook his head.
“Not here.”
The carriage arrived, the coachman yawning, and Isobel allowed herself to be handed into it.
Adrian kept his peace all through the short journey, and that continued until they reached the townhouse. Until they went up, up, up, to his bedchamber, and he shut the door.
She sucked in a breath. “Adrian?—”
“I didn’t like seeing you dance with him.”
Isobel dropped her hands. “What else did ye expect me to do?”
“I don’t know.” He paced the room, hands tucked behind his back. “I didn’t like thinking that he was speaking to you and getting to you.”
“He threatenedye.”
“And you seemed to think that you needed to keep it from me.” He gave a bitter laugh. “For what reason, Isobel? Because you don’t believe I can keep you safe?”
“I wanted to protect ye,” she whispered.
“I don’t need your protection.” The words cut through her defenses, leaving her bare. “I am your husband. I amyourdefender. You do not decide to step in front of me in some short-sighted attempt to protect me. I don’tneedprotecting.”
“We can?—”
“When it comes to this, there is nowe,” he snapped. “You are not to put yourself in harm’s way, do you understand? And I do not need your help. I have been handling things on my own for years, and I don’t need anyone else getting in the way.”
“But you’re no longer on your own,” she said.
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I am just as much on my own as I have ever been. Do you think I have lived without obligations my whole life? I assure you that is not the case.”
She had been prepared to run, to draw Lord Moreton away from Adrian, and he wasn’t prepared to even let herhelp. Tears stung her eyes, and she backed up against the door.
“Ye daenae mean that.”
“I do.” He turned back to her, the motion too abrupt, the anger in it scorching. “I’ve always survived alone, Isobel. And that’s how it will stay.”
