She frowned. “Are you afraid I’ll lead you a similar dance?”
“No, you’re nothing like my mother.” He turned his head to give her a brief glance. “But because of what she did to my father—and to me—I always swore I wouldnae marry a beautiful woman. And you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Fiona.”
It was absurd, but even at this harrowing moment, she felt a trickle of pleasure to know he thought her beautiful. Particularly absurd when until now her looks had brought her nothing but trouble. “I’ll never take a man into my bed.”
“I believe ye,” he said. “I wonder if perhaps ye and I can find a wee measure of happiness with a bond closer to friendship than the mania my father had for my mother.”
“Don’t you want what Marina and Fergus have? They’re happy, and it’s clear they love one another.”
“Aye, they do. They’re lucky.”
“You could be lucky, Diarmid.”
“Ye don’t understand.” He shifted on the seat until he looked into her face. “I’m saying this isnae a love match, what we’re talking about. But that doesnae mean it cannae work. You and I could establish a good life together with Christina. Ye like Invertavey.”
“How could I not? That was where I experienced real kindness for the first time since my father died.”
His tone turned hesitant. “And I think…I hope ye like me.”
“Of course I do.” She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “You’re a good man.”
“Then let’s try this. After we’ve seen off the Grants, if ye discover you cannae endure living with me, I promise to give you an allowance and set you and Christina up wherever ye choose. I swear you willnae be worse off for knowing me, Fiona.”
“But you will be.” Damn it, she was starting to cry again. One shaking hand raised his handkerchief to wipe her eyes, as she went on in a raw voice. “Because marriage is more than chats by the fireside and jolly outings and running an estate. A marriage is a man and woman in bed together, and I told you, I’ll never willingly do that again. Even with a husband. Even with someone to whom I owe so much.”
Fiona could see that he didn’t like the way she harped on obligation, but surely he must know that what he offered placed an intolerable burden of gratitude upon her.
“If I can bear a chaste marriage, I’m sure ye can,” he said with the first hint of resentment he’d shown.
“But you shouldn’t have to.” She blinked back more tears. “And don’t you want children? What about an heir for Invertavey?”
She couldn’t help remembering how right he’d looked holding Eilidh. This was a man who was born to be a father. The sight of big, powerful Diarmid Mactavish cradling the wee baby had stirred a strange longing inside her.
“The estate isnae entailed. I can leave it where I wish.” That muscle still danced in his cheek, proof that he wasn’t as composed as he seemed. “I can leave it to ye or to Christina. Or my cousin Hamish and any bairns he might have.”
She stood up and stared at him, appalled at what he was giving up for her sake. “That can?
??t be enough for you.”
Diarmid met her eyes, and she read both resignation and stalwart strength in his eyes. Neither reassured her. “It will have to be.”
“I can’t accept this sacrifice. Not from a stranger.” She made a sweeping gesture of denial. “Not when it costs you so much and costs me nothing.”
His lips flattened, and he looked old as she’d never seen him before. “Your pride objects to what I’m offering.”
“My pride. My principles. My heart. My soul. You’ve already done so much for me, more than any other man would ever have done. And you’ve asked nothing in return.” She swallowed to loosen a throat so tight that it hurt to speak. “I honor you for it. I’d reached a point where I believed true goodness was unknown in this wicked world. You’ve shown me I was wrong.” Her voice lowered to an urgent rasp as she went on. “It would be heinous to repay that goodness with an act that deprives you of the hope of love, an heir, grandchildren, the life that you have every right to lead. I won’t do it, and you can’t make me.”
Fiona folded her arms and stood square facing him, for once firm on her feet. Nothing he could say would shift her. She’d decided her fate, and she meant to abide by that decision. There would be some other way to defeat the Grants. There must be.
Diarmid didn’t immediately respond to that defiant little speech. Instead, he bent forward and linked his hands between his spread knees. His dark head lowered in thought.
Fiona’s stomach clenched with foreboding. She’d hoped she’d won the battle, but she knew him well enough to guess he only summoned more arguments against her.
It didn’t matter. Nothing he could say would change her mind. Nothing.
Because lying unspoken on the air was yet another argument against this marriage. The fact that he wanted her. She and desire were only the most distant of acquaintances. But she knew enough to recognize that if he promised never to touch her, this union would become the vilest torture for him.
Eventually he raised his head, eyes as black and lightless as coal. “What about Christina?”