Page 70 of The Warrior
“Ye shouldn’t be waiting outside in the cold,” Duncan said, but from the way he was smiling, she knew it pleased him. “I wish I had more time, but Ian sent word that Alex has arrived at Knock Castle. Connor and I are riding over there this afternoon.”
Despite what Duncan said about not having much time, they wound up in Duncan’s bed. Moira lay warm and cozy in his arms, listening to the wind pound against the shutters and thinking how happy she was. Though she had no doubt that Duncan wanted to marry her, she was starting to wonder why he did not speak of it.
“Is Connor being difficult about giving his approval for us to wed?” Moira tilted her head back to smile up at Duncan. “I told him I would never wed again, so perhaps he needs to hear from me that I’ve changed my mind.”
“I haven’t spoken to Connor yet,” Duncan said, sounding distinctly uncomfortable.
Moira got up on one elbow to have a better look at him. “Why not?”
When Duncan pressed his lips together and did not answer, Moira felt as if the ground were sinking under her.
“Fool that I am,” she said, “I thought ye meant to marry me this time.”
“There is nothing I want more in this life.” Duncan reached for her hand, but she jerked away.
“Then what are ye waiting for?” she asked.
“I must have a better home for ye than this,” Duncan said.
“You’ll marry me when ye have a better home?” she asked with an edge to her voice. “What if ye never do?”
“I will.”
“Ye can’t know that,” she said.
“We’ll get married as soon as I’m keeper of Trotternish Castle,” Duncan said. “That won’t be long at all. We’re planning our attack today.”
“Are ye saying ye won’t marry me unless ye take the castle and Connor makes ye the keeper of it?”
“I’m just saying we need to wait a wee bit,” he said.
“Why?” Anger started in her belly and spread out through the rest of her body until she felt as if she would burst with it. “As long as I have you, Ragnall, and a roof over our heads, I’ll be happy.”
“Damn it, woman,” Duncan said. “Have ye no respect for a man’s pride?”
“I think ye care more for your pride than ye do for me,” she said, her voice low and thick with emotion. “Ye want to marry me one day when it is convenient for ye, after you’ve done every other bloody thing that is more important to ye.”
“’Tis because I care so much that I want to wait,” he said.
“And ye left me to go to France because ye cared too much,” she said, fighting the well of emotion that threatened to choke her.
“Can’t ye understand that I need to be able to provide ye with a proper home?” Duncan asked.
“Why?” she demanded. “If I don’t care, why do you?”
“I can’t explain it any better.” He held her face between his hands. “It matters to me. It just does.”
“The truth is that ye don’t trust me to know my own heart and ye never have,” she said.
“I didn’t say that,” he said.
“Ye think I’ll change my mind about ye if ye can’t give me a fine castle to live in,” she said. “That’s why ye left me before and why ye won’t marry me now.”
“Moira, I just want to be able to make ye happy,” he said in a soft voice.
“Ye still don’t believe I’m capable of loving ye without all that?” she said. “After what I’ve been through, ye think I care aboutgowns and servants?”
“I—”
