“I am.” He dared to reach out and take her hand. He’d held her in his arms all night and never for a moment had he forgotten she was female. But when he took her hand now, it felt in an odd way like the first time he touched her. “I think…I hope I can teach you to be an optimist, too, if you’ll let me.”
Quentin waited for Kit to pull away, but she contemplated their joined hands with an unreadable expression. She looked much older than twenty. He promised himself that if she took him on, he’d show her that life could still hold joy and goodness.
His grip tightened, and he spoke in a low voice. “My lady, would you do me the inestimable honor of becoming my wife?”
When she didn’t answer immediately, his heart sped up. It felt like an hour before she lifted her gaze to his face, although common sense said it could only be a few minutes. Her expression was stern and her eyes were lightless, but her jaw was set with determination.
“Thank you, Mr. MacNab. I accept.”
Chapter 8
From where Kit stood halfway up the grand sweep of the staircase, she watched the latecomers sidle in to join the restless crowd. The entire staff, inside and outside, of Lyon House had assembled in the hall below her.
It was the morning after she’d accepted Quentin’s proposal. Curious eyes fixed on the party gathered on the steps, and she could hear a questioning murmur as the servants noted that Kit the stableboy was now dressed as a girl.
Emily and Hamish stood on the first landing, with Quentin and Kit together a few steps higher. Andy and William waited below with their nurse, wide-eyed and uncharacteristically silent as the portentous atmosphere dampened even their high spirits.
This was uncomfortable. Kit felt like she was on a stage. Which was of course why Emily had arranged it this way.
Kit was sick with nerves and guilt. Nobody liked being exposed as a liar, and she’d lied to almost everyone at Glen Lyon since the day she’d arrived. Would her former colleagues hate her? Would they betray her to her stepbrother?
She felt some small relief when Laing looked up to give her a brief smile. Without his help, she couldn’t have managed this masquerade at all. She owed him so much, and she tried to convey that gratitude in the smile she returned to him.
“Don’t be afraid,” Quentin murmured at her side.
>
He’d dressed carefully for this gathering, in a stylish black coat and a white neck cloth, tied in a more elaborate knot than he usually wore. As Kit the stableboy had been achingly aware, Quentin was a good-looking man. Today he was dazzling.
“I’m always afraid,” she said flatly.
His gaze was steady. “I hope to change that.”
“I don’t want them to despise me.”
“They won’t despise you.” A faint smile curled his mouth. “They’ll love claiming a part in the grand adventure.”
“It doesn’t feel like a grand adventure.” She heard that weak little response with self-disgust. Sucking in a breath, she squared her shoulders. Her father would be ashamed of her for being so spineless. An Urquhart could do better. “Oh, listen to me feeling sorry for myself. I apologize for making such a poor show.”
Quentin’s smile didn’t falter. “I’ve never met anyone as brave as you, and a few nerves at a time like this aren’t out of place at all.”
“What about a full-blown panic?” Although his praise eased her tension.
“Even that.” He ran an admiring gaze over her. “You make a bonny girl, by the way. I knew you would.”
Kit glanced down at Emily’s royal blue merino gown that Polly had made over to fit her. It was in the first stare of fashion, with pretty looping black velvet trim on the hem and cuffs. “After all these weeks in breeches, it feels strange to wear a skirt.”
Laughter lit Quentin’s eyes to bright gold. “That dress wouldn’t be very practical for mucking out the stables.”
“No. I suppose not.” Self-consciously she touched her hair. “And Polly did her best to change Kit’s crop into something feminine.”
Polly had worked magic with the scissors. Kit’s black hair feathered around her face in a much more flattering style than the rough mop she’d chopped it into before escaping Appin.
“She did a lovely job. You’ll set a new fashion. They’ll call it the countess crop.”
Kit muffled a laugh. He was making her feel better, which didn’t seem fair when she was about to ruin his life. “Thank you.”
“It looks devilish becoming. Stop worrying.”