He’d been dreaming of his wedding, and he supposed that was understandable. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to anyone of it, but Margaret needed to know. They could not go forward with their lives until she did.
Only now he was worrying how she would feel about that knowledge. How she would think about him. He did not want her pity, although sometimes he thought
he deserved to be pitied. He wanted her to accept his situation and accept him.
He had less than five days to win her heart.
Once upon a time, he would have been arrogant enough to believe he could do it with ease, but he could not be cavalier with Margaret, she was too important to him. He had staked everything on his strategy. The dash into the north, his uncle’s invitation as an excuse, and his secret letters to Sir Peter Grey. Everything had been prepared and made ready for this moment.
The only thing lacking was Margaret’s answer.
As frustrating as it was, Dominic knew there was nothing he could do to hurry her up. She had to be sure she wanted him. All of him. He needed to give her time.
And if she said no? Then he knew he must carry through with his promises, and let her go.
By the time he had risen, washed and dressed, the sky was as light as it was likely going to be. He made his way down the stairs and found Mrs MacLeod waiting for him in the same room as before.
“I’ve laid out the breakfast for you both,” she informed him with a cheery smile. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early, sir.”
He’d noticed last night she didn’t know his name—just as he’d requested of Sir Peter. This visit was to be clandestine.
“Is there more snow on the way?”
“It may look like it now, but the weather should clear in a little while,” she replied. “There is a walk up to the hill behind the lodge, if you are feeling hearty. It gives a fine view of the surrounding countryside.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded and left him alone.
Dominic poured himself coffee and sat down. A moment later he heard Margaret’s step at the door.
She was dressed in one of the gowns he’d requested, a moss green to match her eyes, and her hair was neatly coiled at her nape. Her creamy skin was faintly flushed and he thought she looked more rested than she had since he’d seen her again in her father’s study. Any remaining doubts he may have had about taking her away from Denwick disappeared.
He poured another cup of coffee and set it down opposite his own. After a moment of hesitation she joined him.
“We are both early risers,” he said. “Does that bode well, do you think?”
She smiled but didn’t answer him, adding cream to her coffee and watching as he served them from the silver dishes warming on the sideboard.
“There is enough here for an army.” She was trying to be cheerful but he heard the tremor in her voice. “I wonder what is happening at home?” she asked, when he turned back to her. “They must know by now, mustn’t they?”
“Everything will be all right,” he assured her. “My sister will see to it. She is used to bossing people around.”
He set her plate down and she stared at the contents. “It feels wrong to please myself instead of other people,” she said softly.
“Then please me,” he said, and he heard the note of desperation in his voice.
She looked up at him, startled. For several seconds they simply looked at one another, before she broke the spell by sipping her coffee.
“Mrs MacLeod told me there is a fine view from the hill behind the lodge,” he said calmly, sitting back in his place. “Will you come with me?”
She looked over at the window. “If you wish. There isn’t anything else to do.”
“Oh Margaret, Margaret.” He shook his head at her. “There are a great many things I would like to do to you, if you would only let me.”
She went still, her gaze flying to his and away again. He could see the colour in her cheeks and the trembling of her hands. “I’m considering your proposal,” she said at last, her voice stern despite her obvious agitation. “You must give me time.”
“I am giving you time,” he replied mildly.