The Highlander's English Bride (The Lairds Most Likely 6)

"You agree to my requests?"

"Of course."

"There’s more." She avoided his eyes. "I doubt you’ll agree to my last condition."

He frowned. "Another condition?"

"Just one." She was visibly nervous, which was a pity when he’d just coaxed her into a friendlier frame of mind. What on earth was troubling her? Something was. She was back to biting her lip and wringing her hands.

"Is it so unreasonable?"

His attempt to coax another smile from her didn’t succeed. "I expect you’ll think it is."

He watched her, but didn’t speak. After a long while, she raised her chin and met his eyes. "I won’t share your bed, Hamish. I want a chaste marriage."

Chapter 7

Emily watched shock flood Hamish’s expression. Then a flash of fierce displeasure.

She gripped the arms of her chair and braced for a blast of his temper. Not that she could blame him for be

ing angry. It was an unfair condition to place on any man, and even though he didn’t want her, her decision to sleep alone would gall his vanity.

But after that betraying moment when he’d looked ready to explode, his gaze turned watchful. "I…see."

She swallowed to moisten a mouth dry with nerves. "I imagine you want to withdraw your proposal now."

"Do you?" He spoke slowly and that intent blue stare didn’t shift from her. He looked utterly relaxed, but she knew better.

She rushed into speech, although she’d promised herself she’d be calm and reasonable and above all understanding, when he decided he couldn’t wed her after all. "No man would want to marry under these circumstances. And it’s even worse for you."

Something like surprise flickered in his eyes before he went back to looking enigmatic. She was used to Hamish wearing his heart on his sleeve. As her father’s protégé, he’d been a turbulent presence in the house, but he’d moved out six years ago. It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps she didn’t know this man as well as she thought she did. If they really were to marry, that was a disturbing thought.

Of course she’d just put that outcome out of reach. No man with an ounce of pride would accept such a bargain. And Hamish was the proudest man she knew.

"How so?"

She made a helpless gesture. Her cheeks felt so hot that she feared they must catch fire. The possibility of carnal relations wasn’t something she’d ever expected to have to talk about. And never with such an extraordinarily…male creature as Hamish Douglas.

One of the reasons they clashed so often was that some essentially feminine part of her resented his easy dominance. Everything female in her revolted against his overt masculinity. In general, her father’s students were a lily-livered lot, terrified of their own shadows, even more terrified of women. Hamish had arrived from Cambridge looking ready to conquer a nearby nation, and she’d heard enough talk over the years to know that he liked the girls and the girls liked him.

"You’re…very virile." Her awkward answer made her blush even hotter.

One dark gold eyebrow twitched, but he didn’t laugh at her. If he had, she’d tell him he could stick his marriage proposal up the nearest chimney – or some other place.

"Thank you." He paused. "I think."

It hadn’t been a compliment, and she suspected he knew that as well as she did. "Not to mention you need an heir for Glen Leven."

He’d gone back to studying her. "Glen Lyon."

To avoid that perceptive stare, she rose and crossed to the window. "The name hardly matters," she said, looking out on the gray day outside.

As a scientist, she shouldn’t see the dismal weather as a portent. As a woman, she couldn’t help feeling that the bleak outlook signaled things to come, when she was alone and trying to make her way in a world that despised her as spoiled goods.

"It does, if you’re going to be its lady."

Confusion made her turn to face him. "Don’t tell me you’re still thinking of marrying me."