Page 59 of Wed to the Highlander
“In due time.”
“What?”
She waved her hand impatiently. “That’s what Duncan always says every blasted time I ask.”
Cici eyed her with concern. “So, your husband wants to stay, you want to leave, but it’s his castle? How is that going to work?”
“He doesn’twantto stay. He’s doing it for me.” She breathed out hard in frustration. “I should send him home until it’s closer to my time, but I’m selfish. I want him near.”
“Because you love him.”
“That will never change,” Maggie admitted softly.
“But he’s being selfless. Staying here for you when his head is consumed with the Highlands. And it makes you unhappy.”
“Yes,” she agreed, impressed by her friend’s keen insight. “How did you get so perceptive?”
“I’m married to a man cut from the same cloth.” Cici looked at her, tapping a finger against her lips. “I have a solution. Your laird may not approve, though.”
Maggie leaned forward. “Go on.”
“Lady Conaway’s youngest daughter is expecting.”
“I didn’t know that. It must be in the water,” Maggie muttered. “That’s the only explanation.”
“Perhaps, but my point is, the babe is due soon, and she’s off to Cambridge next week.”
Maggie waited for the rest of it, prompting, “And?”
“Your mother will be on her own. Why not take her north with you? She’s half Scot and will likely enjoy a break from this heat. And, most importantly, no ghost or jealous woman would dare cross the dowager when she’s in protector mode over her daughter and grandchild.”
She thought a moment, weighing the pros and cons, and how it could blow up in her face, then she grinned. “Cici, you’re a genius. But… Won’t you miss her?”
“Yes, but my mother is here.”
“Such as she is.” Maggie wrinkled her nose. Her low opinion of Lady Benton was only surpassed by her other daughter, Elizabeth.
“Mama is actually much better with only one daughter to focus on.”
“Who happens to be a duchess.”
Cici inclined her head and agreed, “That helps, of course.”
Maggie smirked. “Have you heard how your sister is faring with the sheep?”
“No,” Cici sniffed. “And I haven’t asked.”
“Oh, but you must. If she smells of dung, has calloused hands, and a tan from farm work, you must know.”
“You’re more vindictive than I am.”
“I have to be—on your behalf.”
“Forget about me. Worry about finding a way back to Scotland, if that’s what you want. I’ve given you the plan; now it’s up to you to make it happen. I’ll miss you terribly, though.”
Maggie gripped her hand. “I’ll miss you too. Who will insult my embroidery if not you?”
“Everyone who sees it,” her friend deadpanned.
