Chapter 3 #4
He shrugged. “That’s up to him. But the king hopes he will be persuaded to see the virtue of our side.”
Jeannie considered him thoughtfully. “In other words, King James is hoping to take advantage of the current feuding between my father and Huntly.”
It was an astute observation. Her father had been furious with Huntly’s role in the murder of the Earl of Moray—enough to break his vassal duty and feud with his lord. The king hoped to drive the wedge even further between the two. “Aye,” Duncan admitted.
She wrinkled her nose. “I suppose it’s possible, but the feud with Huntly has waned.
The fighting was severe and I doubt my father would like to see it renewed.
I would think it more likely that he would stay neutral—it’s not his battle.
The Grants repudiated the Catholic religion years ago.
” She untucked her feet from under her and dropped them back down into the loch, kicking carelessly on the surface of the water.
Even her tiny arched feet were adorable.
Duncan gave her a measured look, for all her na?veté she was more aware of the political situation than he’d realized.
She’d echoed her father’s response to Duncan’s appeal almost verbatim.
“Your father says much the same, but he might be forced to chose a side whether he wants to or not.” And sooner than he realized.
The king had given a royal commission to Argyll—his lieutenant—to march against Huntly before the month was out. “You are close with your father?”
She gave him a wry smile. “Probably more than is typical for a daughter. We’re all close—my father, brother, sisters, and I.
Circumstances …” her voice dropped off. She sighed deeply.
“Well, suffice it to say, there is strength in numbers. A unified front is an easier position from which to defend.”
He knew she referred to her mother’s scandalous past. They’d never spoken of it directly. Such conversations were not easy on the dance floor.
She spoke matter-of-factly, yet somehow Duncan sensed that it was only a facade. “It must have been very difficult for you. You are the eldest, are you not?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“How old were you when she left?”
“Nine.”
Only a bairn. Duncan felt a sharp spur of rage directed at the woman who could thoughtlessly abandon her children like that. “And you stepped into your mother’s shoes.”
Jeannie shrugged. “As much as I could, but I was young.” It was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. “It was a long time ago, I hardly ever think about it anymore.”
He doubted that was true. He suspected she thought about it every day. “You never really get over a parent leaving you.”
The unintentional revelation took him aback. He never talked about the circumstances of his birth. But with Jeannie … it was different. He found himself wanting to share things with her. He sensed she would understand.
Her gaze sharpened. “Speaking from experience?”
It was his turn for the wry grin. “Perhaps.”
She was quiet for a moment almost as if out of respect for his memories. “You are close to your father as well?”
He nodded. “Aye. I’m fortunate.”
“From what I hear, I think it is your father who is fortunate. You’ve made quite a name for yourself already. He must be proud.”
The praise warmed him, probably more than it should. “Inquiring after me, have you?”
Her cheeks flushed adorably. “Of course not!” Seeing that he was teasing, she smiled and mumbled under her breath, “Arrogant jackanapes.” She tossed a loose piece of stone into the water. “If you are leaving, does that mean your mission has been a success?”
He lifted a brow.
“I assume it is you who was given the task of convincing my father.”
This time the insight surprised him. She had a sharp mind, more so than he’d realized. “I’m cautiously optimistic.”
“In other words ‘no,’ but you haven’t given up.”
He laughed and shook his head. “You would make a horrible politician with such a blunt assessment.”
She returned his grin. “I fear you are right. My father is always telling me that I think with my mouth and that I don’t necessarily need to say aloud whatever pops in my head.”
He grinned. “It’s enchanting. But you are right about your father. He is not convinced, but I might have a new proposition for him. Perhaps a way to sweeten the bargain.”
Jeannie turned her face to his and his breath caught in his throat. The moon bathed her delicate features in an ethereal light. She was so young. Unspoiled. With her damp hair strewn around her shoulders, she could be a sea nymph or a mermaid.
He ached to touch her. To mold his hand against the soft curve of her cheek. To lower his face to hers and feel her lips move under his. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
“What kind of bargain?” she asked.
He looked into her eyes. “Perhaps an alliance by marriage?”
Her gaze scanned his face anxiously as if looking for a crack. “What are you suggesting?”
The excitement in her voice gave him courage.
He wanted to tell her what was in his heart.
That from the first moment he’d seen her he knew that she was his.
That he’d never felt like this before. That she’d brought laughter and levity to a life that had been consumed by duty and ambition.
But words were the province of the poet and the bard; Duncan was a man of action.
He would show her how he felt, show her for the rest of his life if she would have him.
He took her hand. It felt so tiny and soft in his. It was too soon, but he found himself asking, “Marry me.”
His heart, his breath, everything stopped as he waited for an answer, a sign …
The balance of his life seemed poised on an edge, waiting to tumble or soar at her decision.