The devil it would.
"By God, I won’t let you go." He surged to his feet and glared down at her. Fear such as he’d never felt in his entire life chilled his blood to ice. "Why would you want to leave me? That makes no sense. You’ve been happy these last few weeks. I know you have. Stop speaking in riddles. Whatever Fergus said to you, it isn’t true. Pay no attention. I’ll ban him from the house."
She stared up at him in astonishment. "He’s your best friend."
"If he’s turned you against me, he can go to blazes."
"You’d do that for me?"
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Don’t you know I’d shift every star in the heavens for you, woman? I love you."
For too fleeting a moment, her eyes turned brilliant with happiness. Then before he could be sure of what he saw, the skin tightened over the bones of her face and she went back to looking like something out of a Greek tragedy.
With an incoherent cry, she staggered to her feet and retreated behind the chaise longue. "But I’m not Scottish."
He set out after her, but stopped bewildered when he registered what she’d said. "What the deuce did you say?"
She wrung her hands in distress, and fresh tears glittered on her pale cheeks. "I’m not Scottish."
God give him strength. He growled deep in his throat. "Was that what Fergus told you? That you don’t belong here? That you don’t belong with me?"
One trembling hand made a despondent gesture, and her tone turned dull and flat. "It’s not just Fergus. You told me about feeling like an outsider here because people think you’re English. When you proposed, you said you’d prefer a Scottish bride, and—"
"I don’t want a Scottish bride. I want the bloody bride I’ve got – even if right now I fear for her wits."
"And Rory—"
"Rory is a blasted raving idiot. What he says isn’t worth a tinker’s damn, even when he’s sober." Impatience churned in Hamish’s stomach. Impatience and powerful, overwhelming love for this confused, brilliant, magnificent woman. Right now, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to shake his wife or kiss her. Probably both. He came around the chaise longue
and caught her wrist in an implacable grasp. "If you hate living in Scotland, we’ll move back to London."
She stood shaking in his grasp, as her great hazel eyes searched his face. "But you love Scotland."
"Not as much as I love you."
He saw the precise moment she believed him. Thank the Lord for that, at least.
"You mean that?"
He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. The scents of smoky jasmine and Emily filled his head, the fragrance of paradise. "Of course I damn well mean that."
He kissed her, expecting to meet resistance, but she responded with immediate ardor. Her lips were voracious, and she made that soft hum of pleasure that always got him stirred up.
She flung her arms around his neck, pressing so close that he thought she was trying to climb inside his skin. Hamish didn’t mind. He liked her frantic response. It soothed the terror that had struck him down when he found her, the even worse terror when she’d talked about leaving him. For a few horrendous seconds tonight, he’d feared he might lose her. He never wanted to go through that again as long as he lived.
When they finally drew apart, his head was swimming. He stared down into her face. She didn’t look nearly so woebegone. In fact, if he took the optimistic view, he might say she looked transported with happiness, despite the tearstains marking her cheeks.
"You used to think I was the greatest pest in the world," Emily said, regarding him with such wonder in her eyes that he felt like a hero.
He settled his hands at her waist and kissed her again, fast and possessive. "Now you just drive me mad with lust."
A shaky but gloriously joyful smile curved her lips. "I had no idea you loved me."
He frowned. "How could I help loving you? You’ve had me in a spin for years. I was at least half in love with you when we got married. I’ve most definitely been head over heels since you turned up on my doorstep and lost your mind in that fit of jealousy. It turns out that I’ve lost my mind, too."
"I’ll never call myself clever again – of course you love me." She sounded like she made a great scientific discovery – and in the last place she ever expected to find it.
"I told you I do."