Chapter 19
Her cheeks hurt, but that pain was nothing compared to the dull ache in her chest as she forced herself to smile at her most promising suitor. He was fair-haired, with uncanny blue eyes and charisma that could break down the defenses of the most guarded lady.
In addition, he was not one of those men who thought themselves better than women and sought to control them.
On the contrary, he was absolutely thrilled with her occupation as a healer.
Like her, he had a curious soul that sought the most intricate secrets of the universe.
This trait meant that they did not run out of topics to discuss.
He was the perfect example of a fine gentleman.
He was perfect.
He was her last option of the last two shortlisted and the better candidate. The previous day she had spent with Lord Feodwen While the red-haired man came from a prosperous clan, he had an unusual fondness for sheep.
It was all he spoke about. How to buy more sheep, how to care for them, and how to manage pasture. But while she admired all of the Lord’s creations, she did not in any way admire or want sheep, and they were her least favorite topic in the world.
If she accepted his suit, she would have to endure several nights of listening to him prattle about his precious sheep. Added to his belief that women should be seen and not heard, and it would be a disastrous match, indeed. Even she was not that altruistic to endure such a man.
So she had no choice—it had to be Laird Alan. He was perfect.
He was supposed to be perfect for her.
But sitting across from him in the Great Hall, she felt a prickle of unease, as if her brain and heart were at war. The former admired the workings of his brain, while the latter yearned for the company of a man who made both her brain and heart feel at ease.
Not always, though. Her brain knew that her obsession with him might never end well, not when he was doing his best to fight his attraction to her.
Darragh was avoiding her. For the past few days, he had holed up in his study, refusing to answer her knocks. She might have believed that he was not in his study if she had not seen the maids walking out of it with half-eaten food.
She should feel insulted that he felt the need to avoid her.
Instead, what she felt was longing mixed with confusion.
The combination was fueled by their encounter, where he had drunkenly admitted his attraction to her and proceeded to devastate her senses with toe-curling pleasure, imprinting himself so hard on her that he became all she could think about.
It baffled her how he could stay away if he felt the same longing she did. Her nights were haunted by erotic dreams that featured him as the main character, and she could not stop looking around everywhere she went in the hope of seeing him.
For a man who insisted he needed money and had gone to the trouble of finding her a husband to be able to access that money, he was refusing to take the solution that was right in front of him.
They had great chemistry, an undeniable one in fact, yet he insisted he was not right for her.
But it had definitely felt right when she was a moaning, squirming mess beneath him as he pleasured her.
Anyway, while he struggled with indecision, she could not afford to do the same. In her short time here, she had come to love the clansmen and become very conversant with their plight. She was going to do what needed to be done, since Darragh was not ready.
That was why she was here, discussing betrothal plans with a man she chose randomly from the two that had survived Darragh’s elimination. If all went well, she would be wed and bedded by the next month.
“… there might be whispers about the haste of our marriage. Do ye nae think?” Laird Alan asked, his face contorted in concern.
As expected, he was concerned about her. He had always been considerate. It was one of his best traits.
“Ye daenae have to worry,” she said with a reassuring smile. “I am fine. Besides, ye daenae strike me as the sort to care about a wee bit of gossip.”
“I daenae care as well. I am just happy to marry a fine lass like ye. I ken that some of the gossip might come from envy. It isnae everyday that one gets the chance to marry the most beautiful lass in Scotland.” He flashed her a charming smile.
Under normal circumstances, she would have felt the same about marrying such a charismatic man who seemed to know how to flatter her. Except she did not.
“I hope it willnae be trouble, planning a wedding at such short notice?” he asked again.
“Nay, it willnae be. We here at McGhee Castle can plan a wedding in the blink of an eye. Daenae worry.”
Of course, she could trust Orlagh and Amber to rustle up all the servants to prepare a feast by nightfall if she wanted. They loved her so much and so loudly that she sometimes forgot that it had just been mere weeks since they had met.
Frankly, she felt like she had known them forever. They felt like the family she had never had.
Spending time with them this past few days, since Darragh started avoiding her, she had come to realize just how efficient, hardworking, and interesting their personalities were.
She had always envied the young women in her village, who seemed to have found a community in the women in their immediate families.
She had always wondered what it would feel like to have long talks with her mother while her sisters tended to her hair and discussed recipes and the men they found attractive.
In its mischievous magnanimity, fate had decided to grant her this boon, since she did not have very long before she would have to move out of McGhee Castle and into her new home, wherever that might be.
Her chest tightened at the thought.
She did not want to leave.
She did not want to leave him.
Even as she thought it, she knew that soon she would not have a choice in the matter. She could not remain here if Darragh did not want her to, and she needed to marry so he could get the funds the clan needed.
So she needed to marry, whether she wished to or not.
“Are ye sure?” Amber asked, studying her face intently as if to pick up signs that she was not completely sure of her decision.
“Ye ken ye daenae have to pretend with us,” Orlagh chimed in, her hand stilling on the stitch she was adding to her embroidery project. “Ye daenae have to do what ye daenae want.” Her eyes were warm and soft.
Talia was almost tempted to reveal all her secrets and revel in that warmth. Except that would not truly help her cause. She could not afford to fold now.
“I am fine,” she replied with a tight smile, her cheeks aching with the effort. “I am making this choice of me own free will. Nay one is forcin’ me.”
“But ye daenae love him,” Orlagh pointed out, her green gaze piercing her, ferreting out all her secrets.
“How would ye ken that?” Talia asked with an uneasy chuckle, averting her gaze.
“I have seen the way ye look at him, this new suitor of yers. Ye daenae have the glow of a young lady excited to get married. Ye daenae look at him the way ye look at—” Orlagh broke off, as if realizing that she was not supposed to say that out loud.
Of course, she was right. Talia did not look at Laird Alan the way she looked at Darragh.
How could she, when the latter drew her gaze with a magnetic force that she was helpless against?
On more than one occasion, she had caught herself staring at him longingly.
She was willing to bet that she had stars in her eyes whenever he was near.
She was not surprised that the people around her had noticed. She had not been particularly good at concealing her fierce attraction to him.
She was sure that many clansmen were planning her wedding to Darragh in their heads, and Orlagh already treated her like a long-lost daughter.
It would not be hard to become her daughter-in-law.
Of course, Orlagh would resist the thought of planning a wedding that did not feature her eldest son as the groom.
“Me Lady,” Talia started, mustering a smile. “I do ken what I am doing. Laird Alan will be good to me, and this marriage will be good for the clan. This way, everyone gets what they want.”
“But what happens to what ye want?” Amber asked quietly.
“It doesnae matter, dear Amber. Some of us are fated to love but nae to be loved back,” Talia replied, her smile fading.
“Bah! I would wager that he loves ye. He is just too headstrong to admit it,” Orlagh said with such strong conviction that Talia would have laughed if she were not close to weeping already.
“Ye cannae be sure of that, me Lady. He is the only one who can confirm his feelings. Nay one can presume to ken what is in his heart,” Talia reasoned, looking away from the pity in their eyes.
If she stared at it for too long, she would start feeling sorry for herself and burst into tears, and she did not think bursting into tears would make her feel better.
It would just make her resentment and self-pity grow to the point that they might suffocate her.
She could not let that happen. She was to be a bride, after all.
Swallowing her pain, she turned back to her companions. “I would truly appreciate it if ye grant me this boon. Trust me, this is the best way to make me happy.”
“We will do our best,” Amber promised.
“It will be the best wedding McGhee Castle has ever seen,” Orlagh declared.
Talia did not doubt it.
“Seeing how long ye have been sitting there, I willnae be surprised if ye put down roots like a tree,” Jenson said by way of greeting as he stepped past the departing maid, Cohen hot on his heels.
“And by all accounts, one that is going to wilt and die soon,” Cohen drawled, his gaze flitting over the bottles of liquor scattered around him. A half-full one on the desk was on its way to meet the same fate as the others.