Page 26 of Falling for Her Highland Steward
“Should I come with you?” he asked hopefully. “He may try to become too familiar.”
“Thank you, that is kind of you,” she answered. “I am sorry, but I think he will speak more freely if you are not there, Cal. This is something I have to do on my own.”
Laird Grieve stood up when Erin walked in, and she saw his eyes widen in disbelief before his whole expression changed to a wide smile of complete admiration.
Laird Grieve was transfixed by the woman who stood before him. She was young, vigorous, and beautiful, and he could see by the gleam in her eyes that she was not the kind of lady who would allow herself to be dictated to. Indeed, he had the impression that she was strong-willed and stubborn, just the way he liked his women to be. It was much more fun sparring with them then.
“Milady, do you always look so lovely?” he gushed. He moved forward to take her hand, his gaze roaming over her as he moved the chair at the head of the table out for her to sit down.
“And what must I say to that, M’Laird?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “If I say no, I will be accused of false modesty and fishing for compliments, and if I say yes, I will be committing the sin of vanity, so I will just say: thank you.”
Laird Grieve threw back his head and laughed heartily. “What a wonderful wit you have, milady! I am sure that it is an asset in your dealings with other clans. Lairds love you, but other ladies must envy you.”
“When Nairn was alive, we did not have many dealings with other lairds and their wives, M’Laird. We lived a rather quiet life,” Erin informed him. “We went to few ceilidhs or gatherings. The only people we saw frequently were our tenants and a few close friends, and Nairn was so ill towards the end that even that had to stop. Nobody envied me.”
“Did you miss being with people?” His voice sounded sympathetic, but there was an undertone of something else, something that she could not identify but did not like.
“No, not at all.” Erin paused to sip her wine. “I had a baby who grew into a lovely little boy to look after. He took up most of my time and still does. He is the light of my life. His name is Stephen. Stephen Nairn McCaskill.”
Laird Grieve nodded. “Having children is one of the best things about being married,” he remarked, smiling.
Married. The word landed in Erin’s stomach like a heavy stone. Logan Grieve’s tone had been so casual, but Erin was not fooled. She could see where the conversation was headed.
“Yes, I agree.” Then she changed the subject with almost unseemly haste. “Do you like pheasant? We have an excellent cook who makes a magnificent sauce. I will get the recipe and have her pass it on to your cook. Believe me, you will thank me! Tell me, M’Laird, do you do much hunting?”
He smiled faintly at her not-so-subtle tactic. “No, not as much as I used to.” He shrugged. “It is really not something I have ever taken much interest in. As for your pheasant recipe, I will be happy to take it back to my cook, although I am sure he can come up with something equally delicious on his own. I must invite you to my estate to sample one of his creations.”
Erin groaned inwardly. This was becoming tedious.
The small talk continued until the first course had ended, then the laird brought up the subject of the wine they were drinking. “I have to say that this is one of the finest Burgundies I have ever tasted, milady,” he said admiringly. “Laird McCaskill had fine taste in wine.”
“That he did,” she sighed sadly. “He did in most things.”
“Especially in wives.” Logan Grieve’s voice was low and suggestive, and as Erin looked up, there was no mistaking the desire in his eyes.
Erin screwed her eyes shut for a second. She had walked straight into his trap. “Thank you,” she said dully. Her face was expressionless, but when the Laird put his hand over hers on the table, she gave him a sharp, disapproving glare and snatched it away from him. “Stop beating around the bush, M’Laird,” she growled. “Say what you have to say, or leave.”
“Very well.” He looked Erin squarely in the eyes. “Will you do me the very great honor of marrying me, Lady McCaskill?”
12
Even though Erin had been half-expecting the question, the actual words stunned her. She gulped down the rest of her wine in order to avoid looking at Laird Grieve. Then she stood up and began to pace the room, hoping that when she sat down, she would find that she had imagined him asking her the question.
Laird Logan watched her as she walked. He was consumed with desire for her, as he expected most men would be, but although he had imagined her as the strong, funny, intelligent woman of his dreams, he was amazed to find that she was that woman in real life. In fact, she was everything he wanted in a woman.
He had come to see her that night with a flimsy excuse that he was sure she did not believe, but he had not expected to feel this way. His intention had been to do a little flirting and plant the seed of the idea of marriage in her mind. He had wanted to be subtle, but when he saw her, spoke to her, and realized the quality of the woman he was dealing with, he had blurted out the proposal almost without thinking.
Now the laird feared that he had driven her away completely. He opened his mouth to apologize for his haste, but she spoke again.
“I have no idea what to say,” Erin said faintly. As usual, when she was flustered, she went to stand at the window and look out. She could see the golden lights of candles in the village of Gowanlea in the distance and the cold glow of half a moon in the star-studded sky. It was a lovely view, but tonight it gave her no comfort.
Usually, she would have stood and admired the view, sometimes for a long time until her heartbeat slowed down, but now she was restless and fidgety under Logan Grieve’s gaze, feeling it burning into her back.
She turned around to confront him, only to find that he was standing behind her, not six feet away. She gave a little squeal of surprise and backed away, but he put his hands up in a gesture of peace.
“I am sorry, milady.” His voice was soft, and his dark gray eyes sorrowful. “I did not mean to startle you.”
Erin looked into the man’s eyes and saw no sign of deception. She had never heard anything bad about him, but then she did not know him very well, and many rich men were very skillful at hiding the skeletons in their cupboards. It would take much more convincing before she was ready to accept his offer.
