Part 13 (2/2)
”No.” His throat was dry as dust. ”You're the most beautiful woman in Scotland, and I-” Now his throat was not only dry but seemed to have swollen to twice its size, and his collar threatened to strangle him.
”And you?” Maggie prompted.
”I should find Gwen.”
She nearly screamed with frustration. ”I don't need Gwen, Coll. Can't you-don't you see?” He did, the moment he braced himself to look into those dark blue eyes.
He was thunderstruck for a moment, then terrified, and then he was lifting her out of the chair and into his arms. ”You'll marry me, Maggie?”
”I've waited all my life for you to ask.” She tilted her face up for his kiss.
”Coll!” Fiona stepped into the room. Her voice was ripe with warning and disapproval. ”Is this how you treat a young female guest in our home?”
”Aye.” He laughed and carried Maggie forward. ”When she's agreed to be my wife.”
”I see.” She looked from one to the other. ”I won't pretend I'm surprised, but-I think you'd best refrain from carrying Maggie around until after the wedding.”
”Mother-”
”Set the la.s.s down.”
Stiff with annoyance, he complied. Maggie gripped her hands together, then relaxed when Fiona opened her arms. ”Welcome to the family, Maggie. I can only be grateful my son is finally showing good sense.”
She still couldn't believe it. As she finished up the morning milking, Serena thought over Maggie's breathless announcement. Coll was getting married.
”What do you think of that?” she asked the placid cow as milk squirted into the pail.
No one was supposed to know yet, of course. Fiona had insisted that Coll approach MacDonald with an offer first, as was proper, but Maggie hadn't been able to hold the news inside. In fact, Serena's eyes were gritty this morning because Maggie hadn't let her sleep until it had been nearly time to rise again.
There was little doubt that when MacDonald arrived later that day with many of the other guests he would agree to the betrothal. Maggie was nearly delirious at the thought of announcing the engagement at the ball that night.
Ready to dance out of her shoes, Serena thought as she squeezed and pulled the last of the milk from the bored cow. Then there was Coll, strutting around Eke a rooster with two tails. With a shake of her head, Serena set the milking stool aside and lifted her two pails: Of course she was happy for them. As long as she could remember, Maggie had dreamed of marrying Coll. She would be a good and loving wife to him, calming his more radical impulses, indulging the harmless ones. She would be content to spin, ply her needle and raise a brood of raucous children. And Coll, like their father, would be devoted to his family.
For herself, she had reaffirmed her decision never to marry. She would make a poor wife. It wasn't that she minded the work, or that she wouldn't dearly love to have children of her own, but she hadn't the patience or the biddable nature to sit and wait, to nod and obey.
In any case, how often did anyone find a mate to both love and respect?
She supposed she'd been spoiled by being a part of her parents' marriage.
Settling for less would make her feel like a failure.
How could she marry anyone, she asked herself as she came out of the cow shed, when she had fallen in love with Brigham? How could she give herself to a man when she would always wonder what it would have been like with another? Knowing she could never be a part of Brigham's life, or he a part of hers, didn't change what was in her heart.
Until she could convince herself that the love she had for him was dead, she would remain alone. It would be harder now, watching Coll and Maggie. Serena balanced herself with the pails as she started down the rise. The sun was struggling to brighten the sky and melt the last of the winter's snow. The path was slick, but manageable for one who had made the trip day after day all her life. She moved without hurry, not for caution's sake but because her mind was elsewhere.
No, she wouldn't begrudge them their happiness because she could never have the same. That would be mean-hearted, and she loved them both too much for that. But she had to wonder at the way Maggie had claimed her heart's desire simply by tumbling off a ladder.
The way Coll had looked at Maggie! As if she were a piece of precious gla.s.s that might shatter at a touch, Serena remembered with a quick shake of her head. How would it be to have a man look at you that way?
Of course, it wasn't what she wanted, Serena reminded herself. Still, just once it might be nice.
She heard the sound of boots ringing on rock and glanced up to see Brigham striding toward the stables. Without giving herself time to think, she changed directions so that they would pa.s.s each other.
Offering a silent apology for the spilled milk, Serena let out what she hoped was a convincing gasp of alarm and slid to the ground.
Brigham was beside her instantly, his hands on his hips, his face already darkened by his black mood.
”Have you hurt yourself?”
It was more an accusation than a question. Serena bristled, then forced herself to play the part. She wasn't precisely sure how it was done, but Maggie had used her lashes. ”I'm not sure. I may have twisted my ankle.”
”What the devil are you doing hauling milk?” Disgusted, he bent down to examine her ankle. The communication that had been brought to him late the previous night was weighing on his mind. But for that, he might have seen the thunder come into her eyes. ”Where's Malcolm or that scatterbrained Molly or one of the others?”
”The milking's not Malcolm's job, and Molly and everyone else are busy preparing for the guests.” All thoughts of being fragile and feminine were whisked away. ”There's no shame in hauling milk, Lord Ashburn.
Perhaps your dainty English ladies wouldn't know a cow's teat from a bull's-”
”This has nothing to do with my English ladies, as you call them. The paths are slippery and the pails are heavy. So it has to do with you doing more than you're able.”
”More than I'm able?” She knocked his hand away from her ankle. ”I'm strong enough to do as much as you and more. And I've never in my life slipped on this path.”
He sat back on his heels and let his gaze sweep over her. ”St.u.r.dy as a mule, aren't you, Rena?”
That was it. A woman could take only so much. Serena sprang up and emptied the contents of one bucket over his head. It was done before either of them could prevent it. She stood, swinging an empty bucket, while he swallowed a mouthful of very fresh milk.
”There's a warm milk bath for your soft English skin, my lord.”
She grabbed the other bucket, but before she could toss it in his face, his hands closed over hers on the handles. His grip was very firm, very steady, but there was smoke from a volatile fire in his eyes.
”I should thrash you for that.”
She tossed her head back and watched with growing satisfaction as milk dripped down his cheeks. ”You can try, Sa.s.senach.” ”Serena!”
The challenging gleam in her eyes turned to one of distress when she heard her father call her name. She braced herself as she waited for him to rash the last few feet toward her.
”Father.” There was nothing to do but hang her head before his glowering eyes and wait for the worst.
”Have you lost your mind?”
She signed. Because she was looking at the ground, she didn't notice that Brigham s.h.i.+fted just enough to put himself between Serena and her father's wrath. ”My temper, Father.”
”There was a slight accident, Ian,” Brigham began. Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped milk from his face. ”Serena lost her footing while she was carrying the milk.”
”It wasn't an accident.” It would not have occurred to Serena to claim it as one and save herself. ”I poured the pail of milk on Lord Ashburn deliberately.”
”I had eyes to see that for myself.” Ian planted his feet. At that moment, with the sun rising behind his back, his plaid tossed over one shoulder and his face hard as granite, he looked fierce and invincible. ”I'll apologize for the miserable behavior of this brat, Brigham, and promise you she'll be dealt with. Into the house, girl.”
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