Page 85 of Rogue with a Brogue
Of course he could well be doing just that. “Aye,” he returned in the same tone. “Another mile or so, Peter.”
“Aye, m’laird.”
“I’m afraid we’ll be sleeping oot in the cold tonight, my lass.”
“I don’t mind. You’re very warm.”
Arran allowed himself a frown in the darkness. “I mind. And I’m sorry. This wasnae how I imagined us spending the night before our wedding.”
Mary hit him in the arm. Hard.
“What the devil was that for?” he demanded, remembering at the last moment to keep his voice down.
“Stop acting as if you’re the only one responsible for us being here,” she snapped. “Do you think I wrote that note to tell you where I would be because I hoped you wouldn’t come looking for me?”
“Nae. But I had to convince ye to come along with me.”
“Because I forgot there was a difference between being comfortable and being happy. Just as there’s a difference between being uncomfortable and being unhappy. I’m here because I want to be here, so stop apologizing because the road hasn’t been easy.”
Arran narrowed one eye. “So ye’re saying ye’re uncomfortable but happy, I presume?”
“That is precisely what I’m saying. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you spend the nights keeping watch, or that you’re shivering right now because you’ve given me your coat. Are you unhappy?”
“Nae. I’m only… worried that I’ll nae be able to give ye everything ye should have.”
“You are what I want, Arran. Anything more is just… buttermilk.”
“I beg yer pardon?”
“Buttermilk. It tastes pleasant, but it’s a great deal of work and I could certainly live without it, without even giving it a second thought.”
“I cannae help wanting to protect ye and purchase ye pretty, silly things, Mary.”
“Youareprotecting me. You’ve already saved me. And purchase me pretty things if you like, if we can afford them. But I don’tneedthem. Ineedyou.” She shifted around to look him squarely in the face, though he didn’t know what she could see in the dark. “Have I made myself clear, Arran MacLawry?”
What he hadn’t realized in all this was that Mary Campbell was as occupied with looking after his best interests as he was with looking after hers. Having her in his life made him happy. Why would that be any different for her? “Aye,” he said aloud. “I reckon I understand ye.”
“Good.”
He grabbed her by the lapels of her oversized coat and tugged her up against him. “And now ye understand this,” he growled. “Ye’re mine. If ye’re sad or hurt or angry or lonely, ye’ll tell me aboot it. Ye’ll nae keep it to yerself because ye think I’d be happier nae knowing. And if I choose to make it my business to see ye happy, ye’ll just have to put up with it. Have I made myself clear, Mary Campbell?”
She smiled and kissed him softly on the mouth. “Aye.”
“Och. Now I’ve a tear in my eye,” Peter said from in front of them.
“Ye’ll have my boot in yer arse if ye dunnae find us a place to spend the night, ye heathen.”
With that incentive they found a promising spot a half mile or so farther on, just over a hill from the road. Arran jumped to the ground to guide the wagon into a stand of trees, and then helped hobble all four horses by the small stream running along the base of the hill.
That done, and with an apple smuggled to Duffy for putting up with him for being such anamadanwhen he’d last come this way, he sat on the ground against a wagon wheel. Mary sat beside him, handing over a piece of cold roast ham. “It’s all I could wrestle from the lads,” she said, indicating the two men seated across from them.
“Nae true, m’laird,” Peter protested. “We gave the lass half the carcass.”
“I’m teasing, Peter.”
“Lass,” Arran said, brushing a strand of her long, curling hair from her face, “ye know there’s a good chance yer family or mine or some other fools looking to make trouble may decide they cannae let us be.”
She nodded. “We may not be able to remain in Scotland.”
