The Making of a Highlander (Midnight in Scotland #1) - Elisa Braden Page 0,93
castle or bargained for Lady Lessons or trained him to grip his caber. He hadn’t told her on the long journey from Inverness when they’d spoken about his family. His sisters. His best friend. His papa and mama, who made him smile with such affection, she’d wanted to kiss him to feel his happiness curving against her.
Instead, he’d carefully avoided any hint that his family was among the most elite in England.
The Earl of Berne. She’d heard the title before but knew little about the family. Now, she knew John was a viscount who would one day be an earl.
Even the man she’d briefly considered for marriage, Lord Lockhart, was of a lower rank. Laird Glenscannadoo was lower still.
She sniffed and sat up to pour herself another dram. The whisky burned pleasantly, warming her belly.
He’d lied to her. Seduced her with burning glances. Lain with her in this very bed. Kissed her and made love to her and insisted she become his wife. And, all the while, he’d lied and lied and lied. She hadn’t asked why, but she could guess.
A woman. Perhaps the modest modiste from Paris. Perhaps someone else. Regardless, John Huxley was bitterly cynical about women. He’d misjudged her motives from the start, accusing her of all manner of seduction when she’d done naught but compliment the man’s eyes once or twice. Pure nonsense. He was bonnie as the sunrise, for God’s sake. Was she meant to ignore it? And his laugh sent waves of pleasure down her spine. And his love for his family fair melted her heart. And … well, John Huxley was a braw slice of heaven when he wasn’t accusing her of being a greedy conniver.
Sipping her dram, she stared across the room at the lilac silk gown he’d purchased for her, draped across the back of a chair. Lovely silk from an enchanting man.
No, he’d obviously been targeted before. And he wanted a wife who wanted him without the title attached. Which was why he’d been so wounded by her indecision when he’d proposed.
She wished that made everything better. She wished understanding his reasons meant she could trust him again. But she had wounds of her own, and not being believed was the biggest one of all.
A knock sounded at the door. “I’m comin’ in, lass,” Angus announced in his deep rumble. “Are ye decent?”
She took another drink, leaning back against her pillows and enjoying the deep fire of MacPherson whisky.
Her door inched open. Angus’s iron-gray head poked inside. “Annie?”
“This is fine stuff.” She held up the glass, admiring the golden color. “Better than last year’s lot.”
He entered and closed the door before sitting gingerly on the foot of her bed. “Aye. Take care ye dinnae drown yerself in it.”
Her head was swimming, but she thought Angus sounded quieter than usual. Hesitant. Angus was never hesitant.
“What am I to do, Da?” she whispered.
He held out his hand. She slid hers inside. That big, strong paw closed around her fingers as he looked her in the eye. “Marry the lad.”
With the glass in her hand, she rubbed at the ache beneath her breastbone. It slid against her plaid, but the pain did not ease. “I cannae trust him.”
“Ye think ye cannae. But he loves ye.” Angus paused. “I love ye, too.”
His face blurred. She dropped her gaze to their hands. “Then, why did ye keep the truth from me?”
A deep sigh. “’Twas part of the agreement. He came to see me at the distillery.” In low, deep tones, Angus described how John Huxley had gone from being the curse upon her father’s lips to a friend and ally worthy of Annie’s hand.
Months earlier, John had approached Angus and Campbell with Robert Conrad by his side. He’d immediately assured Angus of his intentions to marry Annie, presenting Robert, his brother-in-law, as a witness to his promise. That had calmed Angus’s concerns long enough for them to sit down and talk over a dram.
Huxley’s offer, it seemed, had been to court Annie as befitted his future countess, to woo her gently in hopes of gaining her admiration and her agreement to become his wife. Angus had wanted assurances that Huxley would neither use coercive measures nor abandon his suit should improprieties occur. Huxley had agreed. Angus had demanded that Huxley keep possession of his Scottish lands and make his home with Annie