Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,22
a dozen missives since last summer and received nae word back. What else was I supposed to assume?”
His free hand was resting atop her thigh now, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb. So when he cursed under his breath, he pulled the hand out from under his head and scrubbed it over his face.
“Ye assumed I’d finally given up on my quest to convince yer grandfather I was worthy. I threatened to do it often enough last summer, Lord kens. Ye thought I’d decided to give up on us, to allow ye to marry a man of yer grandfather choosing.”
She’d known she wouldn’t have to spell it out for him, because he’d figure it out on his own. “Aye,” she repeated gently. “I—I couldnae stand the thought of marrying someone else, even though ‘twas obvious—to me, at least—ye didnae wish to marry me anymore. I convinced Grandda to wait ‘til after the Oliphant bairns are born. Assuming Merewyn or Evelinde bears a son first, Kiergan will be free to become the next MacKinnon laird, and I can—” Her voice broke. “I thought I could be happy alone.”
Graham’s fingers had tightened on her leg as she spoke. “Ye would no’ marry another? No’ even for yer clan?”
She shrugged, locking her fingers together in front of her to hide how much the thought hurt. “After a while, mayhap. I’m no’ suited for a nunnery, and Grandda would likely insist. But I bought myself time, and I was hoping, by coming here, I might learn of yer reasons.”
Blowing out another breath, he pushed himself up on his elbow, his touch falling away from her skin even as he reached for her hands with his other. “Vina, I’ve never stopped loving ye. When ye never responded to my letters, I assumed yer grandfather had finally convinced ye to do his bidding.” He took a deep breath and captured her gaze. “Ye ken what likely happened?”
She didn’t want to think of it and shifted uncomfortably. “Messengers are waylaid, letters lost.”
“I wrote ye almost twenty, Vina, and ye said ye wrote a dozen. That many letters being lost?” He shook his head, sorrow in his eyes. “ ’Twas yer grandfather. He was obviously intercepting the letters. We should’ve expected that, and I’m sorry I didnae consider it as a possibility.”
She hadn’t either, until last night as she’d held Graham. After he’d fallen asleep, she thought of his vow and his claim to have written her. Although she hated to consider Grandda would hurt her in such a way, ‘twas the only explanation.
He must’ve seen it in her expression, because that adorable little furrow—often the only indication of his feelings to appear on his face—formed between his eyes. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. “He did it because he thought it best to protect ye from me.”
Rolling her eyes, Davina twined her fingers through his. “He has planned my life since the moment I was born. He was certain Katlyn wouldnae be able to marry and bring in a future laird, and my father was dead by then. So he knew either I’d be the future laird, were I a lad, or I’d marry a man who’d be the laird. I hated that pressure.”
“And it dinnae help ye were so beautiful.” His murmur was dry.
“Ye have nae idea how often I wished our places were switched, and I had Kat’s eyes. I was tired of men looking at me the way they did. No’ only was I told I was beautiful, but they knew the man I married would gain power. I’ve had betrothal offers from lairds and shepherds alike since the time I was a bairn.”
Humming, he pushed himself upright, crossing his legs unselfconsciously to sit facing her. “Then I am lucky indeed yer grandfather waited ‘til ye were grown so I might meet ye.” Now his second hand joined his first, and he divided her hands to cup them gently atop his ankles. “Vina, ‘twas yer beauty which drew me first. When I saw ye there in yer grandfather’s great hall, I was struck as thoroughly as all the men before.”
She remembered that moment, when she’d looked up from her meal to search for the source of the strange tingling sensation she’d felt on the back of her neck. An achingly handsome stranger, seated at one of the smaller tables, staring at her in a way which made her feel hot and itchy all at once. His gaze had been so intense, the promise in his