Page 7 of A Virgin for the Icy Highlander
He had no knowledge of the school she spoke of, but he could only think of one reason why a woman like her would be sent away from home to be educated in Scotland: to be hidden away. Her vague admission suited his needs perfectly.
He shrugged. “Well then, ye’ve nay cause to protest. Ye take care of me daughter, and I’ll protect ye from any such unfortunate situation. I assume it’s either a scandal, a man, or family matters. Me solution will keep ye safe from all three.”
“What? How?” she gasped, confirming that he’d guessed correctly.
Whichguess, he didn’t know yet, but there’d be time enough to pry that out of her. And it didn’t much matter to him, either way. It would just take more effort if he had to deal with a disgruntled suitor than it would if he had to soothe displeased parents. A scandal would be the simplest; he wouldn’t have to do anything at all, other than what he had already planned.
“I’ll marry ye.”
Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. Her sweet mouth fell open. She stood completely rigid in the glow of the sunset.
He didn’t mind the view, that fiery light continuing to caress her curves, creating a halo around her tempting figure… thoughhewould not give in to temptation.
“Pardon?” she rasped, sucking in a sharp breath.
He sipped his drink again, the taste earthy and sour. “Did ye nae hear me? I’ll marry ye,” he replied bluntly. “I’ll say it simpler for ye, so ye’ll be sure to understand:Ineed a lass to raise me daughter, andyeneed a protector. The solution ensures both.”
Grace shook her head, mumbling something under her breath as she turned her back to him, gazing out at the burning world beyond the window—at the distant horizon that his guards watched so intently.
She continued to mutter, and he heard a word or two that encouraged him. “This is insanity… Is it, though? It’s no stranger than… not the worst option… not my father’s choice… not old.”
As she fought with herself, Hunter admired the new view of her. His gaze was drawn to the swell of perfectly rounded buttocks that didn’t need any help from those bustle pads he knew fancy women wore. Her hips required no panniers because her body needed no false assistance whatsoever.
“You are suggesting a marriage of convenience?” she asked in a stilted tone.
His gaze snapped up as she turned back to face him.
“Aye, it’d be convenient,” he replied.
She gave a small nod that made her bun bob slightly. “I see,” she replied, catching her breath. “And the child—does she not have a mother?”
“Dead,” he replied stiffly.
Another small nod. “And… how soon would you be requiring an heir?”
His gruff grunt of disapproval caused her eyebrow to rise in something like confusion. Evidently, wherever she hailed from, and whoever she hailed from, she’d been taught that an heir was all that mattered in a marriage. All that mattered at all.
He knew, better than anyone, where that sort of thinking led, and a flare of old anger scorched his chest.
“I just want someone to care for me daughter,” he said tersely. Though her magnificent silhouette prompted him to add, somewhat wryly, “Unless ye’re offerin’.”
She balked. “Of course not! I… I was only asking because… well, it is… it is?—”
“An expectation. Aye, I ken, but nae in this instance,” he interrupted, before she could tie herself into knots trying to get her words out. “So, what’s it to be? Aye or nay, lass? The sun is goin’ down, and I dinnae have all night.”
He did, but if he kept her in that room until morning, she might begin to wonder if he had a few expectations, after all.
Grace stared at the man who was offering to become her husband, offering to relieve the pressure of her having to return to London tofindone among an unsavory and repugnant menagerie of supposed ‘gentlemen’ her father had selected. At leastthisman was being honest with his intentions—or so she hoped—letting it be known, from the very beginning, that it would be a marriage of convenience.
At least this one is handsome.
She swallowed thickly. Her teeth absently grazed her lip as she took in the muscles, the height, the dark hair, the broad shoulders, the intense blue eyes, the sheerpowerhe radiated. If he were to walk into a London ball, half the ladies present would faint, even before they’d seen his bare calves below the hem of his kilt.
“I don’t even know your name, only your title,” she said quietly, blushing despite herself.
Would that make me a Lady of somewhere, if he is a laird?
She made a mental note to ransack the school library for books on clan histories and etiquette, in case she ended up accepting.
