The Laird's Willful Lass (The Lairds Most Likely 1)
“Yes, we do,” she said without enthusiasm. Not because she disagreed, but because the last thing she wanted right now was to participate in a discussion about her host’s generosity and all-round perfections. “Should I call Jock to help you up the stairs?”
“No, grazie. I can manage with your arm.”
* * *
Marina and her father didn’t talk much as they climbed to his room. His leg had healed well, but after all the enforced rest, his vitality soon waned.
“Please stay while I change into my nightshirt,” he said in Italian, once she got him inside his room.
Per pietà, was she never to find a minute to herself? She curled her hands so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. The sting helped keep her tears at bay. She knew she owed Papa some attention, but she felt stretched to the limit of endurance. “Can I help?”
“No, this I can do for myself.” He limped behind the screen and eventually emerged ready for bed. Despite her misery, Marina was glad to see him moving about.
“You’ll be dancing before you know it,” she said, then feeling like she cut herself with broken glass, she went on, “A good dose of Italian sun will have you back to yourself in no time. It’s time we went home, Papa.”
“Yes, I miss Florence. It will be good to be back in my own house, kind as everyone has been to us here.”
Marina bit her lip and tasted blood. She turned to go before she started to cry. A few more minutes, and she wouldn’t have to pretend anymore.
Except her dear Papa didn’t understand that.
“Help me into bed, then stay and talk to me.”
Could she bear much more? “I’m very tired.” Unshed tears thickened her voice. “I’ve been working hard on the duke’s commission, and it’s another early start tomorrow.”
“A few minutes, cara. Surely you can spare that.”
Surely she could, if she hadn’t been concealing a broken heart all night and the effort was becoming too much. Hiding her reluctance, she crossed to perch on the edge of the bed. “It’s nice to see you up and about, Papa.”
“Tcha.” He made a dismissive gesture that matched the dismissive response he gave to her comment about his recovery. “The work, it goes well?”
“Very well.” She dared speak the words that superstition had stopped her from saying aloud until now. “I think these pictures will be the best I’ve ever done.”
Papa smiled. He’d never understood her talent the way her mother had, but he’d always supported her. “Marvelous. You’ve found the scenery here inspiring?”
“Any artist would love it. To think, I’m the first to capture it in paint.”
“And the laird of this glen, you find him inspiring, too?”
For a moment, talking about her painting, she?
??d almost forgotten what had happened this afternoon. Her father’s sly question brought all the anguish flooding back.
To evade his searching gaze, she stared down at the hands linked in her lap. She struggled to keep her voice steady. “While the Mackinnon has been very good to us, I imagine he’s looking forward to his chance-met visitors going home.”
“I doubt it. Tonight when he saw I could walk again, he looked like a hound whose master had died.”
Startled, she glanced up. “Papa…”
“Marina, I’ve struggled to hold my tongue.” His expression was serious as it rarely was. “After all, you’re no longer a little girl, you’re a grown woman. But I can’t see you as you are tonight, ready to snap into pieces like a dry twig, and stay silent.”
A sour stew of shame and misery churned in her belly. “You know?”
Her father’s smile was kind, and he caught her hand. “That you’ve at last met a man who makes you think of something other than pigments and paintbrushes? Of course I know. For the first few weeks here, you’re like a cat whose fur is rubbed the wrong way, all arched back and claws and hissing. Then in the space of a day, the cat is purring. While Fergus, he stops acting like a man on the rack and can’t keep his eyes off my daughter. When he looks at her, his face says he’s caught in a spell.”
Was that true? She supposed it must be.
Fergus hadn’t told her when he’d fallen in love with her. Perhaps it was weeks ago. She remembered how hungry he’d been for her before she went to his bed.