Page 40 of A Rogue in Twilight
“Well,” she said.
“It would benefit both of us. You need a secure situation. I… need a wife.”
“I am sure several ladies of your acquaintance would be happy to hear that.”
“I am not asking anyone else to marry me.”
“Perhaps you should. They would be happy to live in the city.”
“Is that part of your infernal stubbornness? I have to stay in the city. I am a professor at the university. We could spend the rest of our time here.”
Silence. “I do not want to leave this glen. I would stay here.”
“You came to Edinburgh. We met there.”
“I was anxious to go home. But meeting you—was very nice.”
“Listen to me, Elspeth MacArthur. I am a viscount. I own a fine estate,” he said, and began to tick off on his fingers. “I have a respectable yearly income, or I will have if certain requirements are met. I have a house in Edinburgh and a respected position. I’m not unpleasant to look at, despite the bad leg. And I have written a volume on geology that weighs nearly as much as you do.” He was surprised by his fervor. He was not one to tout himself or show desperation. Certainly he had never courted a girl with so much insistence. “Surely that counts for something.”
“Impressive. You will have no difficulty finding a bride, sir.”
Shoving a hand through his hair, he blew out a breath. “That is more difficult than you know. Marrying you would solve—some other issues.”
“Legal…issues?”
She had an uncanny ability to ferret out his innermost thoughts. “Promise to marry me and I will tell you the whole of my…legal issues.”
“No.”
He leaned his forehead against the door. “I will not beg. Give me your answer tomorrow—before anyone arrives back at the house, aye?” He sighed. “I am not very good at this confounded courting business.”
“Better than you think,” she said. “I am honored that a titled gentleman who is very, very handsome, would ask me. I do not care if he is wealthy or not. I care where he wants to be, and if he loves me. And I do not mind the bad leg at all. I have a bad ankle myself. In fact, I must rest it now. So good night, sir.”
“Blast it all,” he muttered.Love.He had not mentioned that, and it was crucial. But he was still sorting that out. Oh, it was there. He needed to come to terms with it. Sentiment was not his strong point.
“You swear too much. It is a plague in your personality.”
“Elspeth,” he growled. “Please.”
“Listen, James MacCarran. I want to stay in the Highlands, and you are a Lowland man. And I think you are eager to be away south again.”
“Edinburgh is not that far south. You would have a comfortable life with me.”
“I know,” she said softly. “I know it. But let us be done with it for now, Lord Struan. It is late.”
The more she denied him, the more he wanted her. “But tell me this.” He leaned close to the door, speaking low. “Is theresomeone else? Is there a Highland man who has your heart?” Fool, he had never thought to ask.
“I wish he lived in this glen,” she whispered. “He is a fine man. We loved sweetly with the fairy magic upon us, and he has my heart. But he thinks of obligations and legal issues and forgets to look into his own heart.”
James went still, heart thumping. A lightning strike of hope went through him. “This fine man, is he the one for you?”
“So he likes to think. Away with you, James MacCarran,” she said crisply.
He sighed, head bowed. He felt touched deep, changed somehow. Stepping back, he went along the dark corridor.
He was not quite the same man who had knocked on that door a quarter-hour earlier. He was a man in love who finally knew it, and needed to set other matters aside and say so.
Elspeth smoothed theskirts of her green woolen gown that had dried beside the hearthside overnight. She had brushed away the dried mud; some stains might be beyond saving but could be hidden with some new trim here and there, perhaps plaid bands and ribbons. Best hurry now, she told herself, for the morning was growing late. She had slept longer than she wanted, and ought to leave for home soon, or for Margaret Lamont’s house—that had been her plan before she had slid down a muddy hill in Struan’s garden.
