Page 39 of A Rogue in Twilight
That was settled in his mind, but still he could not rest. Finally he got to his feet and headed back downstairs to read for a while. He found fairy lore a true soporific.
Walking past the guest chamber where Elspeth slept, he paused, and heard a light cough, a few footsteps. So he was not alone on this strange, restless night.
He tapped on the door. “Miss MacArthur.” After a moment, he knocked again.
“Go away,” she answered.
“You need not open the door. Only listen to me, please.”
“Say what you will, then.” Her voice sounded close.
Resting his head against the door, he tried to compose his words. “What happened tonight has consequences. I want to make that up to you.”
“It is unnecessary.”
“Miss MacArthur,” he said, exasperated, “I want to marry you.”
He waited in the ensuing silence, heart slamming. He should have planned this proposal more carefully. But fate and whatever wild magic had hold of this place had put him in this position. He felt need and emotion swamp the logic he preferred.
“Elspeth.” He flattened a hand on the door. Raw need, heart more than body, rolled through him. “I want to marry you. It simply must happen. You must see that.”
“Must? That is a pretty statement of devotion.”
James wished he had saved the matter for morning and a clearer head. “Perhaps we should discuss it tomorrow.”Must, should. He ought to tell her that he was also obligated to meet the conditions of Lady Struan’s will, and she was a perfect choice for a fairy bride. But he had a feeling she would not welcome that news.
“Do not feel obligated,” she said, as if she had heard his thoughts. His twin, Fiona, had the same knack with him. He frowned.
“I do,” he said. “I regret it. I apologize. I intend to compensate for it.”
“Let it be our secret. Good night.”
Our secret.The words sent a sudden plunge of desire straight through him, unexpected, enticing. His feelings were jumbled, and the passion he felt for her went against his code of behavior, keeping himself to himself and others safely distant.
“The situation demands an honorable solution,” he said.
“What good union could come of such a beginning? It is best forgotten. I am content with a wee bit of ruination. Marriage for the sake of obligation does not suit me.”
“You would rather be ruined than marry the ogre your grandfather chose for you.” The notion of her with another man made him close a fist. “I offer a far better solution.”
“He is not an ogre. He is a reputable tailor with a good income and a fine house.” Through the wood of the door, her voice had a soft intimacy. James leaned close to listen.
“Then what the devil is wrong with the fellow?” He felt annoyed. Jealous.
“He does not love me, nor I him. He lives in the city and I want to stay in the Highlands. And he is more interested in my grandfather’s weaving business than in me.”
“Then he is a fool.” James closed his eyes.
“And he is not the one for me,” she said.
“And who,” he said softly, “would that be?”
“Well, no one now that I am ruined,” she said crisply.
He knocked his brow against the door. “You are not ruined, not while I am here to make it otherwise. You would be the new Lady Struan,” he added.
“You live in the city. You have work there. My work is here.”
“I would live here part of the time.” The more he tried to persuade her, the more he craved this marriage. Hope, that silly, storybook feeling, bloomed in him as never before. With her, his life would be better. With him, hers could be better too.
