The Virgin's War (Tudor Legacy #3)(58)

“Also highly impractical,” she managed, with what she hoped was amusement.

“But tempting?” Those hazel eyes of his slid across her face and she looked away.

Not for anything would she reveal just how tempting. “I can manage. There is no need to offer yourself as sacrifice.”

“It would be no sacrifice.” He spoke as though deliberating which words to choose so there would be no misunderstanding. “Surely such a clever woman recognizes how important you have become to me.”

Important. Not quite the same thing as loved. “Your family and your queen would be horrified.”

“I think you underestimate my family. And the queen cannot have it both ways—if I am no longer one of her nobles, then she can have no say in my personal life.”

“Marry me and you will never be restored to your title.”

He smiled grimly. “All the more reason. I do not want it.”

“Stephen—”

“Mariota, you need not be afraid. If it helps, consider this simply an extension of our friendship. There need be no personal awkwardness. The marriage would be for you to define. I would never press you for…well…”

No more he would, more’s the pity for her. “Yes, I see,” she found herself saying despite her better judgment. “May I have time to consider it?”

“To weigh the benefits and drawbacks? I would expect no less of you.”

He stood as abruptly as he’d done everything else in this astonishing conversation. Maisie stayed where she was, watching him covertly, his height and elegance and the straight lines of his back and shoulders. There was an awful lot to notice in just the two seconds before he reached the door.

Then Stephen paused, and she got to her feet, wondering wryly if he had come to his senses and was about to get himself out of a situation he’d never intended to wander into.

He looked back at her, a slanting glance over his shoulder. “There is no one else I could envision marrying. Not after Ireland.”

Because of Ailis, he surely meant. Because I will never love again as I loved her, but you could forgive me that and live with what is left.

Could she live with what was left? Stephen would never love her, not as he had loved Ailis. And not as Maisie herself loved him. He would be kind, for he was incapable of being other than that. Clearly he was not interested in her body, but she believed that their minds did connect.

It was far more than Maisie had ever expected to have. She just didn’t know if it was enough.

—

After his abrupt proposal to Maisie, Stephen took himself equally abruptly out of her way. He could hardly believe what he’d said and was afraid if he stayed any longer his matter-of-fact logic would give way to an outpouring of sentiment that would surely frighten her. Fortunately, the seas proved troublesome and every hand was needed to effect the difficult crossing. They had to put in at Belfast for two days and at the Isle of Arran for three. It was easy in those conditions to maintain a distance of cordiality and politeness.

But the first week of December the skies cleared, and finally their ship began the tricky navigation through the western peninsula to the mouth of the River Clyde and the port of Dumbarton. It was only then that Maisie approached him.

“We should speak before we land,” she announced. There was no indication of what she meant to say. With heart beating irregularly, Stephen followed her to her cabin.

Neither of them sat. Stephen leaned against the closed door, hoping he looked more cool than he felt. Maisie faced him with an expression that gave nothing away.

She had only to speak two words. “I agree.”

The relief that swept him kept him against the door, this time for support rather than effect. He had to swallow against his first reaction, which was to smile broadly and take her in his arms. He could not frighten the bird just when it had flown into his hand.

“I’m glad,” he said, striving for the practical tone she would expect.

“On one condition,” she added.

He cocked his head curiously.

Maisie looked away as she stated her condition. “That we marry before reaching Edinburgh. King James may not entirely approve of an Englishman, and I will not risk anyone else meddling in the arrangement we have come to. Better to confront them all with a fait accompli.”

“Agreed.”

“Your parents won’t mind?” she asked. “I mean, of course they will mind, they’ve already had one child marry without notice this year and I am hardly the wife they would choose for you. I suppose I mean, will they ever forgive me?”

That brought him away from the door with a jolt. She sounded so…uncertain. He took her cold hands in his. “There is no need for forgiveness. We will do what we must to protect your company and yourself. And when we have secured your position in Edinburgh, we will ride south and explain it to my parents.”

Stephen wanted to smooth her hair, to cup her chin in his hands, make some gesture of affection. He refrained. “They will love you, Mariota. Rather more than they love me, I expect. You have nothing to fear.”

“I appreciate what you are giving up, Stephen. I do. I will make no demands on you. You must consider yourself free in every important respect.”

That was not encouraging. “Demands?”

She blushed, a subtle wash of colour across her cheekbones. “You surely must want children. Title or not, you are the oldest son in an important family. It will be expected of you. I have no objection…that is…”