Page 78 of The Mistletoe Dare

“Well, at least ye dinnae blether on like some Englishmen, I suppose. I appreciate that much,” Morven said with a shrug.

Rochford blinked, surprised to have been given anything positive. “Thank you.”

“Take those words to heart, aye,” the earl warned him.

“I will, because there’s not much to say,” Rochford said. He took a breath and said what he’d come to say. “I want to marry your daughter, Lady Georgina. I know you are aware of the advantages of my title and wealth, and I’ve also seen enough of this family to know they’re not worth a button to you.”

“Ye catch on quick, Sassenach, I’ll give ye that.”

Rochford snorted. “I know she could marry someone else, someone nicer and kinder and more patient, and prettier, by God. But she’ll find no one else who will look after her like I will. I believe I understand her now, the things that are important to her, and I will hold those things dear, and make sure she always has them.”

“Fine words,” Morven said, nodding. “But what are these things, the things she values?”

“You, her family, above all things. She’ll need to see you often, and so we must spend a fair amount of time here, if you can stand it. We have the house in Wick, so she may be comfortable and close by.”

“But so we’re not on your doorstep.”

Rochford shrugged. “You can’t blame me for that, but you’ll need to come to Cumbria too and visit her at Mulcaster.”

“If ye can stand it,” Morven said dryly.

Rochford rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “She’ll want society. Not all the time. She likes the peace of the countryside, she’ll be happiest there, but she’ll want to visit her friends, to go to parties and the theatre during the season.”

“Your worst nightmare, aye?” Morven said, sitting back in his chair and studying Rochford. “All those people staring at ye, whispering and dredging up the past.”

Rochford shrugged. “I’m used to it. I’d prefer to protect her from such… discomfort, but it comes with me. I can only hope in time people will grow used to seeing us and tire of repeating themselves when they gain no reaction.”

“They will, and Georgie’s nae milk and water miss, as I think you ken by now. She’ll nae need protection, though ye may need to hold her back if she thinks anyone’s disrespected ye. She’s a temper on her.”

Rochford’s lips twitched. “I am aware,” he said softly.

“Aye,” Morven said, watching him closely. “Reckon so. What else, then?”

“A family of her own, a home, a place to belong, and a husband who will honour and protect her, and always take her side.”

Morven nodded and got up, going to the decanter and pouring out two generous measures of whisky.

“You forgot something,” he said, handing the glass to Rochford.

Rochford couldn’t breathe. He knew this wasn’t the end of the matter. Even if he crossed this hurdle, he still had to convince Georgie she was right to trust in him. But if he couldn’t convince her father, he didn’t have a hope. She would not go against the earl’s wishes, he felt certain.

“Have I?” he asked, forcing the words out.

“Aye, the most important thing of all.”

Rochford regarded him, feeling he stood on a cliff’s edge. “What’s that?”

“Love, ye bloody fool, or d’ye mean to tell me ye dinnae love her?” Morven’s voice was harsh, his tawny eyes, so like his daughter’s eyes, burning with intensity.

Rochford shook his head, trying to find the words to explain. “I’m not… I….” He cleared his throat. “I can’t do poetry and soft words and—it’s not me, Morven, but she knows that I-I care—”

“Caring’s not enough. Not for my lassie. She’ll want ye to love her. She needs it, for if she marries ye she’ll give ye her whole heart, whether or nae ye deserve it, and she won’t stop until she has yers in return. Are ye ready for that?”

Rochford stared down into the glass of whisky and then took a large swallow, grateful for the shot of heat into his blood. “What if I can’t? It’s not that I don’t want to, I just—”

“Ye father did that, aye?” Morven said, gesturing to Rochford’s face.

Rochford felt his face burn and his jaw tightened. What the hell did this have to do with anything? He couldn’t help how he looked and, if Georgie had accepted he was far from handsome—