Page 86 of When the Laird Conquers

He shrugged. “I’d rather lose ye that way than another.”

“But… my Laird, you are already losing me,” she told him, exasperated. “You are losing me, but it does not have to be that way.”

He withdrew his hands. “Aye, it does.”

“But you said I was yours!” she reminded him.

“As long as ye’re in this castle, ye are,” he replied. “And I hope that, even if I cannae give ye everythin’, what I can give is enough reason for ye to stay. Although I willnae stop ye if ye walk away.”

It was all too infuriating, her heart sore in her chest, but she could sense that they were only going to argue in circles. And now that she thought about it, she was rather tired. Tired of the disappointment. Tired of him blowing hot and cold. Tired of feeling something that was clearly not reciprocated. Just tired.

“Goodnight, then,” she said curtly as she breezed past him and climbed into bed, turning her back to him, not bothering to take off her wedding gown.

As she lay there, her head on the pillow, she quickly brushed a tear from her cheek and wondered how such a lovely day could have ended like this.

A short while later, as the bed groaned under Gordon’s weight, she wished for the first time that he would just go.

33

Gordon was gone by morning, his side of the bed cold, and Agnes did not see him again until it was time for the cèilidh.

“Daenae concern yerself, me Lady,” Iona had said, some worry lacing her voice, when she had come to serve breakfast. “The guests are arrivin’, and as the Laird, it’s his duty to welcome them into the castle. He’ll be watchin’ for any sign of that duke too. He wouldnae trust anyone else to do it.”

“Should I not be welcoming them too?” Agnes had countered. “Why would he leave without me?”

“Nay, me Lady, all ye need to do today is relax and enjoy yerself. Ye had a long day yesterday, and today will be longer,” Iona had replied, though it had done nothing to put Agnes at ease.

But as the day wore on and she dressed for the night’s occasion, she began to wonder why she cared that Gordon had left their bed without so much as a farewell. It was not as if they had ended things on a particularly good note last night.

Maybe he had decided that they needed to spend the day apart to avoid quarreling in front of a larger audience.

Or he is preparing me for the rest of my life, sharing a cold bed.

She took one look at herself in the mirror to study her red gown, but it only served to dredge up vivid memories of the other night.

Her face hot, she quickly left the bedchamber. There were too many memories in there, and though her mood was low, she was determined to have some fun this evening.

The Great Hall thrummed with activity, voices buzzing like an apiary, while music drifted through the hallways, adding a vitality that no amount of open curtains could create.

It was perhaps the sweetest sound Agnes had ever heard, though it took her ears a moment to adjust as she stepped through the tall double doors and into the room beyond.

Swarms of guests filled the space. Some of them were dancing a lively reel, some were picking at the feasting table, some were huddled together in deep discussion, some were clearly gossiping. Agnes might not have cared much for balls and parties before, but the sight of so many people and so much life filled her with an immediate rush of joy.

Lizzy would relish this.

But the baby was upstairs with Iona, no doubt sleeping through it all.

“Lady Agnes, is that you?” An unfamiliar voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Somewhat dazed, she peered up into brown eyes that she didn’t recognize. A young gentleman, no more than twenty or so, with a sweeping mane of strawberry blonde hair and a bright smile.

She frowned. “Do I know you?”

What is an Englishman doing here?

“Goodness, that is rude of me. We have met once or twice, my Lady, though it was foolish of me to expect you to remember,” he said, chuckling. “I am Lord Samson.”

Samson?