Page 59 of Stealing Sophie
“I need to question her myself. Bring her to Kinnoull House.”
“You may speak with her in my presence at Duncrieff Castle,” Connor said. “At a time of my choosing.”
Campbell muttered under his breath, certainly aware, Connor thought, that such a meeting was unlikely. “Why would a clan chief give his sister to a small laird from a disgraced family? This is a lie.”
“Love,” Connor said, shrugging, “is inexplicable.”
“Not much to be done about love,” Neill said, shrugging. “It canna be tamed.”
“If the girl is asked about her marriage, she will not cry foul, I suppose?”
“Certainly not,” Connor answered.
“Who was more eager to run off to marry, the bride or the groom?” The sneer cut through the air. “The priest can produce the banns, I suppose.”
“No time for banns. Father Henderson of the Small Glen did the honors.”
“You had better hope the details agree, or you will be looking through a hangman’s noose for this and any other deeds I can uncover, MacPherson.”
Connor smiled. “Would I run such a risk as that?”
“I am cuckolded and should call you out for it!”
“You know we Highlanders are not permitted to use weapons,” Connor said. “But let me know your preference in arms, and I will risk it. Swords, pistols. Fists,” he added.
Campbell turned, snapped an order for the dragoons to follow him. He took up the reins and whirled his mount, sending up clods of mud and turf as he rode away suddenly, in a clear fury. The dragoons looked toward Connor with interest, as if expecting an order, and then simply rode after the magistrate.
“Tcha,” Neill said. “Where are his manners? He did not even congratulate you.”
Connor shot him a sour look, then turned to stride up the hill.
The sky wasdeep black and sparkling with stars by the time Connor crossed the bailey and entered the castle by the kitchen door. Roderick was asleep on a pallet beside the warm hearth as Connor moved quietly past.
Roderick stirred. “Kinnoull? All is well here. And with you?”
“All is well.” Connor headed toward the stairs.
All was hardly well, he thought as he climbed through the darkness. How long could he keep Sophie safely here before Campbell came in search of her?
Confronting the magistrate earlier, aware of the threat the man could wield, Connor had returned to Glendoon wanting to see Sophie, know for himself she was safe. Wanting to hold her and make sure of it.
Yet he had sworn to himself to keep his distance until he knew what Duncrieff had intended with this marriage agreement. Some part of this was hidden, and he had to know what it was—he was sure, as well, that Sophie was being truthful in saying she did not understand her brother’s reasoning.
But that lass, he thought, was always truthful. She had no guile in her.
Reaching his bedchamber door, he stood there, leaned a hand on the doorjamb. He wanted to go in, yet could not. Weeks ago, he had agreed to steal a bride to satisfy his friend’s impassioned request. He had never planned to let the marriage affect him. He had never planned to fall in love.
Yet as every hour passed, every day, he felt the danger of it mounting. He knew, now, that his heart was well and truly caught. He just did not know how far, how deep. Did not know if he could save himself after saving her. He had not thought to marry or consider settling until he was rightfully Kinnoull again. And that might never happen.
He tried to tell himself all that, tried to use logic. Tried to turn away. But, heart pounding, he knocked softly and opened the door.
