Page 91 of My Highland Love

“What explanation?” asked Marcus from the rear of the church.

Elise surged to her feet. “Lord Ashlund. Good of you to join us.”

* * *

So she had discovered the truth. Marcus had no one to blame but himself for not telling her. He strode to them and halted beside Elise. He gave an acknowledging nod to Father Whyte, then said to her, “Aye, love. Lord Ashlund, Marquess of Ashlund.”

“You lied to me.”

He recognized the fear behind the curt statement and gently answered, “Nae.”

Her lips thinned. “You deny it?”

“If I led you to believe I was of noble class but wasn't, you would have reason to be angry. The fact I am of the noble caste is of no consequence. Have you ever heard anyone here address me by my title?”

Her mouth tightened further. “You kept it from me.”

“You are saying I instructed all of Brahan Seer to deceive you? How could I possibly accomplish such a thing? The fact that you learned about this before we signed the marriage certificate proves my point.”

“The marriage certificate?” Elise repeated, then, as though to herself, said, “Of course, we would sign a marriage certificate.”

“It doesn't matter,” he insisted. “Especially here.”

She canted her head. “And when we leave Brahan Seer? Isn't that the reason we are doing this because you insisted we cannot leave Brahan Seer without being married?”

“Aye,” he replied. “We cannot travel the country and live as we do here. Expectations are different outside Brahan Seer.”

“Yes, they are,” she retorted. “To the extent you are to be a duke!”

“You aren't being honest,” he continued, forcing back frustration. “Admit it. Had you known in the beginning, you wouldn't have agreed to marry me because of my station.”

“So you did lie.”

“I did not.”

“Father,” she said, keeping her gaze on Marcus, “isn't the sin of omission the same as a direct lie?”

The priest took a deep breath. “It is.”

“Are you saying you won't marry me because I will one day be a duke?” Marcus demanded.

“I am saying, I will not marry a man I cannot trust.”

“Bloody hell,” he cursed. “After all the years the MacGregors have fought for their good fortune, to have it turned against us—”

Her eyes flashed. “Make no mistake, Lord Ashlund, it isn't the MacGregors's good fortune I hold against you.”

“It is,” he cut in sharply. “If I were Michael's son instead of Cameron's, you would view my suit as proper.”

“That is not the point—”

“It is exactly the point. With anyone else I would not have had to say, You do realize I am a marquess? Yet, you say that is exactly what I should have done.”

“You knew not telling me was a manipulation.”

“How am I to answer?” he snapped. “Had I made a point of telling you, you would have balked. Yet, not telling you is a grievous sin.”

Elise eyed him critically. “When did you plan to tell me? Once we arrived in civilization and someone bowed before you?”