Page 13 of Highland Seduction

She frowned as if he’d insulted her rather than given her a compliment.

“Go on, then.”

“Must I?”

“Aye, ye must.”

Her brows furrowed, but his wife managed. “Ye calmed me during the ceremony.” When she stopped, he waved his hand, urging her to continue. “It was appreciated.”

“Was that so difficult?”

“Aye,” she said, “it was.”

Tor laughed still when the priest emerged. The sight of him sobered Tor immediately. As if his distaste was sensed, Father Godfrey turned directly to him, appearing displeased. Perhaps it was because he’d realized the man served his own clan as well, though Tor rarely saw the inside of the chapel, much to his mother’s dismay. In response, Tor forced a smile and stood, reaching out his hand. “Thank ye very much, Father. We will give the bishop yer kind regards.”

Ainsley, clearly not aware of his ability to be polite, gaped. Eventually recovered, she stood. “Aye, we will, Father. Many thanks for yer wise counsel.”

Tor resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he bowed ever so slightly and held out his arm for his wife. He thought she would reject it at first, but instead, Ainsley slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and bid the priest adieu. When they stepped out into the sun and she pulled her arm from his, Tor felt a distinct loss. “Yer brother does no’ seem to suspect ye will no’ return to the keep. I’d expected for him to follow us.”

Ainsley smiled. “I believe he is occupied. A boon for us both.”

Tor made a face. The thought of how her brother was occupied with his sister . . . nay, he’d not think of it. And for a brief moment, he wondered what it might be like to be occupied as such with his own wife. She was a spitfire, for certain. In bed, Tor had no doubt Ainsley would similarly not hold back.

“Why do ye look at me as if ye will devour me?”

He couldn’t resist a smile. “Because I would.” He bounded down the steps, turned, and waited for her. “That is, of course, if ye were no’ my wife.”

Chapter 8

Her husband was less than happy.

He’d assumed after seeing Father Godfrey they would be off. Her bags were packed and ready, their mounts prepared. She’d even managed to cajole Cook into giving her enough bread and cheese to last two days.

She had managed to sidestep her brother, say goodbye to her new sister-in-law and fare-thee-well to Greer. But as she rode up to the cottage, spotting Forsy just outside, Tor was making the most horrible of sounds. Grunts, more like, to share his displeasure.

“Shall we hie to the village next, lass? Perhaps bid adieu to the blacksmith and the tailor. I am certain there are some farmers still in the fields. Shall we find them and bid them farewell too?”

Ainsley ignored him and dismounted.

“Oh, my dear,” Forsy said as she approached. “I did hear the news.”

Her sister’s housemaid rushed to her, embracing Ainsley before whispering, “My, he is handsome though.”

Irrelevant.

“Where is she?”

“Yer sister or the wee one?”

As if she heard, Ainsley’s niece came running toward them. She dislodged Forsy and tossed her arms around Ainsley, who had bent down to embrace the child. Having seen just five summers, she was the bright spot in her sister’s lonely life out here in this cottage. Her long brown Shaw hair and bright smile assured all those who truly knew Rhona that Annie was indeed her sister’s daughter. Not that there was any question, of course, but looking at the miniature version of her sister, Ainsley was reminded of the woman she’d known before Rhona’s voluntary exile.

“Mamma is gone,” she said, prompting Ainsley to look up at the housemaid.

“For a ride,” Forsy clarified.

A shame. Ainsley had hoped to catch her before she left.

“Who’s he?” Annie asked. “You’re cute,” the girl told Ainsley’s husband.