His brother’s gaze dropped back to the scroll. “I didnae mind the work. Truthfully, ‘tis just another way to be charming, except with ink instead of my tongue.” ‘Twas a hint at how distracted he was over his new responsibilities that he didn’t make a quip about said tongue. “I do hate the idea of trapping Nessa in a betrothal she doesnae want, but—”
“But that is Da’s prerogative, and he’s still laird.”
“Och well, if we’re going to start using fancy terms like prerogative”—Kiergan snatched the scroll from his hand—“I’ll just take my leave before things get too stuffy.”
“Take yer goat with ye,” Alistair called.
His brother shot him a rude gesture over his shoulder, but tucked the scroll under his arm and, with a grunt, stopped to pick the goat up.
Not bothering to hide his grin, Alistair reminded his brother, “Dinnae let it piss indoors or Moira will have yer head!”
“I’ll tell her ‘twas yer poor aim!”
Cursing, Alistair looked for something to throw, but his twin had already left the solar, carrying the poor goat down the hall.
Kiergan’s laughter and the goat’s bleating drifted back to where he stood, a slight grin forming on his face.
Tell Alistair ye love him.
Och, ‘twas easier said than done, for certes!
Lara had ducked into one of the empty chambers when Kiergan had stomped by, holding a goat for some odd reason. She was curious of course, but she didn’t want to have to explain what she was doing hovering around Alistair’s solar. So she just avoided him altogether.
Besides, she wasn’t even sure what she was doing here.
Tell Alistair ye love him.
Snorting softly to herself, Lara stopped in front of his door. She would’ve liked to take a moment to compose herself, to figure out what she was going to say. Surely, blurting, “I love ye!” was bad form. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on her side, and the door was wide open.
Alistair was just sliding into his chair when he looked up, saw her, and froze, arse halfway down. “Lara?”
Nay. She couldn’t just blurt it out.
So, taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room.
Wanting privacy for this conversation—and wanting to give her hands something to do—she took the time to close the door. Besides, ‘twas easier to say, “Alistair, I need to talk to ye,” with her attention on the latch.
“Aye?” he prompted cautiously.
Blessed Virgin, this was harder than she’d thought it’d be.
She dropped her forehead against the door. Half-hoping her voice would be muffled, she asked, “Do ye recall our meeting at Malcolm’s wedding celebration? When ye asked why Kiergan and I dinnae marry, and he said we were friends, and I said my heart belonged to another?”
Holding her breath, she waited for a response.
After a long moment, she realized she wasn’t going to get one. There was naught else to do but turn and face him.
He was fully seated now, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. He was watching her.
Finally, he slowly nodded. “Aye. I recall.”
“Ye do?”
He cocked his head to one side, studying her. “I’ve thought of it often over the last sennight, Lara. Even more so when ye told me ye wouldnae marry me. Are we finally going to be speaking of this? Because I’ve never found myself so jealous of an unnamed man before.”
Her breath caught. “Ye were jealous? Of the man I loved?”
When he inclined his head once, regally, he was so handsome, she thought her heart might seize.
“ ’Twas ye,” she blurted, then winced. She took a deep breath, then tried to explain. “It has always been ye.”
Slowly, his fingers interlaced until he was gripping his hands in a sort of fist in front of him. “Explain.”
Another deep breath, and she forced herself to meet his eyes. God help her, there were all sorts of emotions swirling in their depths—confusion, hope, wariness.
“I love ye, Alistair.” There. That wasnae so hard, was it? “I’ve loved ye for years.” Each word was easier to speak than the one before it, and she felt her heart lighten. “I couldnae tell ye—no’ when we were younger and no’ at the celebration. But now…”
He wasn’t responding to her announcement. He was just…looking at her. Finally, he raised a brow. “But now, what?”
She shrugged, beginning to feel foolish, standing there in front of the door while he sat all the way over there. She took a step, then two, then three, before pulling herself to a stop in the middle of the room, having some vague idea he should meet her halfway.
“Now…” She swallowed. How to explain? “Now, ye’ve asked me to marry ye. I ken why ye did it, but I thought ye needed—”
“Why did I do it?” In a startling burst of movement, Alistair dropped his hands and pushed himself out of his chair. He planted his hands on the desk and leaned his weight on them. “Why did I ask ye to marry me?”
She blinked. “Well…because of the sex.”
“I’ve had sex with other women before. Neither of us were virgins.”
There he went again with that assumption. She caught herself scowling and didn’t bother to hide it. “Ye didnae need to be married before either.” He wanted to see if she understood the truth? Fine. “Ye want to be the next laird, despite everything, and I’m here and available. That’s why ye asked me.”
“Despite everything?” he growled. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She folded her arms in front of her chest. “Ye’ve admitted ye dinnae like power over others. And ye’ve seen how freeing it can be to give up control, Alistair. I thought…” She shook her head. “I thought ye’d see—”
Slowly, he came around the desk until he was within reach. But instead of touching her, he folded his arms in a mirrored stance and leaned his hip against the desk. He might’ve thought he appeared at ease, but she knew better. She could see the wariness in his expression.
“See what?” he
