Page 75 of Single Desire
Alec’s regard skidded to the bed. It was no accident his gaze lingered on the stain where they had lain. “Clearly,” he bit off, “it wasn’t.”
Maura winced at his icy barb. “I thought it would be easy to find the Circle. I thought to return to Ireland long before this. A week, at most. I—I thought you could explain my departure by saying I died in the crossing back to Ireland.”
His eyes seemed to sizzle. The silence spun out. Maura stood still while he walked pointedly around her to stand at the window, his profile forged in iron. She had the feeling he was gathering himself in hand.
At length he turned. “Well, then,” he stated coolly, “there’s nothing else to be done, is there? We’ll marry. At once.”
Maura was stunned. “What?”
“As soon as it can be arranged.”
Her head was spinning. “You want to marry me?”
“It’s not a question of want. It’s a question of needs-must.”
She stiffened. “Why, thank you, your grace, for that reassurance.”
His tone turned sharp. “It must be done, Maura. You know it as well as I.”
“I know of no such thing. You think that because you are the Duke of Gleneden, that I must heed you. Well, I think not, Scotsman.” Anger overrode caution. It banished all else. “You may be master of Gleneden, Alec McBride, but you will not master me. You forget, I am not your wife, nor will I ever be your wife.”
“You refuse my proposal?”
“That was a proposal? I perceived it as a demand. Besides, do you expect me to be flattered? I came to recover the Circle, which was stolen,” she stressed, “by your ancestor, the bloody Black Scotsman.”
“So you would bed down with me yet not marry me?”
Maura flinched inside. Must he make it sound sordid?
“Ah, but it was never supposed to happen, was it?”
“Aye. All the more reason we must forget.” Her tone was very low. Her reality was painfully acute. “I belong in Ireland. My clan needs me, now more than ever since my father is dead.” A faint bitterness crept in. “And you certainly did not hide your aversion for our marriage when we stood in the baron’s garden.I should think you’d be glad we are not wed. That I am not after your title or riches or any of your—” She broke off.
His gaze homed in on hers. “What, have you spirited away the silver?”
Maura swallowed.
“Dear Lord, you have, haven’t you?”
Her chin lifted. “A few pieces from the attic. Some of the rooms. The pin money you said I might have. Nothing you will ever miss. We need the money far more than you.”
“Let me guess how you accomplished this.” His brows lifted. “Murdoch?”
There was no point in lying. “Aye, he is near. So you see, he did not abandon me after all.”
The air was charged and crackling. He gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, but this is rich! My own wife—who was really never my wife—is a plundering thief!” He paused. “But I will soon know the truth for myself, Irish. Whether or not your lands are as barren as you say.”
“What the devil does that mean?”
“Oh, come, sweet. You cannot deny the circumstances of our ‘marriage’ warranted suspicion…and warrant confirmation.”
Maura was still grappling with a dawning awareness. She would soon know the truth herself.
Her eyes never left his face. “You sent someone to Ireland? You sent someone to spy on me?”
“I would hardly call it spying, Irish. I consider it more of a mission to ascertain the truth.”
She was too furious to speak.
