Once Evan had laced up the back of her frock, she walked to the small window and looked out. “’Tis a beautiful day out there.”
His only answer was a grunt.
Once they were mounted on their horses, Evan turned to her. “I will be sending for the priest. Whatever problems ye think we will have can be discussed later.” Without giving her a chance to respond, he kicked the sides of his horse and he was off.
The ride back gave her time to consider her feelings about the man. He was certainly a handsome man, and even though her experience with the marriage bed had been nil before last night, she knew in her heart that Evan was a considerate lover.
He was a strong leader and decisive problem solver, and the way he took to Gavin—even though he thought the lad too meek—showed his willingness to care for those who were vulnerable. It also told her he would be a good da to any children they would have.
So why am I reluctant?
’Twas really simple. She wasn’t quite sure—despite his words—that he would have considered making her his wife if last night had not happened. When all was settled at MacDuff, wouldn’t he have happily wished her well and ridden off with his brother to never see her again, with the only communication between them being monthly reports from land steward to laird?
As she wrestled with the problem, she could not discount that she did not want to give up her independence. She’d been the one in control for years, but there was no doubt in her mind that Evan was very much The Laird and expected obedience from everyone. Which would include his wife.
They rode up over the hill, and the castle came into view, rising from the greenery like a fairy tale from one of her childhood books. The sun emerging behind it cast the front of the building in shadows, yet with enough light to see a man ride up and dismount from his horse.
Something about him looked familiar, and she almost dismissed him as one of her clansmen who had been out and about already when a knot settled in her stomach. She shook her head furiously. “Oh nay.”
Evan turned to her. “What is it, lass?”
They slowed their horses as they reached the stable, and Katie confirmed her fear. “It appears Richard Armstrong has arrived to claim his bride.”
…
Evan climbed from his horse and tossed the reins to MacDuff, his eyes never leaving the man standing at the front door of the castle. So the despicable mon had found his way to Fife? Evan took Katie’s arm as they walked from the stable. “Dinnae say anything. I am yer laird. I will speak for ye.”
Katie gaped at him, apparently not happy with his edict. ’Twas no matter. She needed to learn that he handled all problems. “Can I help ye? Are ye lost?” Evan strode up to Armstrong, dragging Katie along, never letting go of her arm.
“Katie!” Armstrong smiled a bright—albeit fake—smile. He stepped forward, his arms extended. “’Tis so verra good to see ye. I had hoped ye would speak with me before ye did something this foolish, but luckily I learned where ye were headed and have come to save ye.” He continued to smile until Evan wanted to smack the ridicu
lous look off the mon’s face.
Richard Armstrong was a nice-looking mon, and if no one knew of his propensity for young lads, his demeanor and looks would fool many. He seemed pleasant and good natured. His dark-auburn hair was tied behind his head, a plaid tam covering most of his head. His blue eyes were the color of the lochs. His chin, however, was not strong, and his middle was soft. The mon did not spend a great deal of time doing physical work.
“I am Laird Evan MacNeil; how can I help ye?” Evan did not hold out his hand but stood straight, towering over their visitor, his arm flung carelessly over Katie’s shoulders, a confident sign of possession.
Armstrong looked confusedly back and forth between him and Katie. “Katie? Who is this man?”
Evan squeezed her arm to remind her to stay quiet. “The lady is Mistress Stirling to ye, and I believe I just introduced myself. Now perhaps ye can offer me the same courtesy and announce yerself.”
The mon tried his best to look confident but missed the mark. “I am Lord Armstrong.” He bowed slightly. “This woman”—he waved in Katie’s direction—“is my betrothed.”
Evan waited for a moment, then spread his feet apart and let go of Katie to cross his arms over his chest. “Ye dinnae say?”
“Aye.” Armstrong raised his chin and straightened his shoulders.
Evan turned to Katie and pointed his thumb at the mon. “Is this true, mistress? Is Lord Armstrong yer betrothed?”
She shook her head vigorously. “Nay.”
Turning back to Lord Armstrong, Evan said, “It seems there is a misunderstanding here, my good mon. I suggest ye be on yer way. We have much to attend to today.” He took Katie’s arm and stepped forward.
The baron put his hand on Evan’s chest to stop him. Evan looked down at the man’s hand, then up at his face. Something in his expression must have frightened Richard, because he dropped his hand and stepped back. “I would have a word with Mistress Stirling, if you please. In private.”
Evan regarded him for a minute, long enough for the man to begin to shift his feet and offer a nervous cough. Evan sighed as if this was a mere annoyance in his busy day. “Nay. I dinnae think so. Ye see, my betrothed and I are about to make arrangements for our wedding.”
“You—” He gaped at Katie. “’Tis not possible for this man to be your betrothed. You are betrothed to me.” He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a paper that he waved in her face. “Right here. Your father and I made arrangements for you to marry me.”