Surrender to Me (The Derrings #4)(52)

“I know,” Griffin returned, his tone matter-of-fact as he pulled his jacket over his unbuttoned vest.

“You know?” Wild bewilderment rushed through Astrid as she looked back and forth between the two men.

“Your mother. What was her name?” MacFadden pressed.

“Iona.”

The laird nodded, a dour set to his mouth. “I thought as much. You’ve my mark. All the MacFadden men bear it.” He motioned to Griffin’s person. “But you’ve her eyes. They bewitched your father.” His lip curled in a sneer. “And every other man in these parts.”

“Fascinating.” Griffin shrugged back into his jacket, his tone droll. Taking Astrid’s arm, he guided her back to her mount and lifted her into her saddle.

“It proves you’re my—”

“I don’t give a damn what it proves.” Swinging up onto his mount, Griffin glowered across the distance at his grandfather, their resemblance unmistakable. She could see it now.

Staring at MacFadden, she could well imagine how Griffin would look in forty years. Still handsome. Still imposing. Virile enough to twist her heart or any other woman’s. Only in forty years he would have a wife. Of course, Astrid wouldn’t be with him then. Some other woman would have that privilege. She would be long gone. A memory at best.

“Had you asked,” Griffin ground out, “I would have shown you the damn birthmark. At any rate, thank you. Your methods confirmed that I made a long journey for nothing. I have no family here. None I wish to claim.”

I made a long journey for nothing. His words resounded in her ears. In her heart. Wrongly. His feelings right now had nothing to do with her and everything to do with his grandfather. So he regretted coming to Scotland. She should not make it about her. About them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” his grandfather blustered.

“Home. Texas. Where I should have stayed.”

More words to gouge her soul. To swipe a bloody trail through a heart that she had permitted to feel. For the first time in her life.

Absurd, she knew. She had known they would part ways. In Edinburgh, he would be free to go wherever he wished. Be it America or Balfurin.

Griffin nudged his mount around. Astrid followed. They took only a few paces before a wall of Scotsmen gathered before them, blocking their path.

Laird MacFadden’s voice carried across the glen. “I waited years for my son to return home.”

“Your son is dead,” Griffin called over his shoulder.

“Aye, but you’re not. You’re here. A part of him. A part of me. You’re not walking away. At least not until I give you leave to do so.”

Griffin swung his mount around, angry eyes clashing with his grandfather’s.

Astrid blew out a heavy breath. At this rate, she might never make it home…but the thought did not alarm her. Not as it should have. Blast.

She bit her bottom lip. While the prospect of more time with Griffin tantalized her, common sense bade she put an end to it—to them—now. As she had tried to do at Cragmuir.

She snuck another look at Griffin.

Jaw knotting with tension, he stared straight ahead, eyes drilling into his grandfather. His blue eyes glinted with grim intensity—a determination to go his own way, to leave Scotland. To leave her.

A deep ache beneath her breastbone left her strangely breathless. She needed to free herself from him as quickly as he sought to be free of his grandfather.

Before he came to mean too much to her. Before…

Dismay filled her in that moment. Because she knew the truth then. It was too late. Her stomach heaved.

It didn’t matter how soon she freed herself from him, it was too late.

She had fallen in love with Griffin Shaw.

Chapter 19
Fury radiated through Griffin as he stared at the man he had crossed an ocean to find. His grandfather rode ahead of him, his back broad and straight in his saddle. Disheartening as far as reunions went. Not that he had expected a warm homecoming full of happy tears and embraces. He had just not expected to be thrown to the ground with all the courtesy given an enemy captive.

He glanced at Astrid. She rode beside him, her face paler than usual as they were led through dense foliage. Her liquid dark eyes stared straight ahead.

If anything good could be said of the situation, it was that he did not have to give her up just yet. He grimaced, knowing she would not share the sentiment. No doubt she bemoaned yet another delay. More time with him. A rough frontiersman without connections. Without grace or social standing.

Still, he owed it to Astrid to get her out of this mess. From the stiffness in which she sat her mount and the way she carefully steered her gaze clear of him, she likely agreed.

As promised, he would see her to Edinburgh. He had promised her that much. Even if it meant saying good-bye.

He had a life waiting for him. A life that didn’t include her. He could not imagine her in Texas. The heat alone would likely give her a seizure…

No, she was destined for elegant drawing rooms, for taking tea from delicate bone china.

As a widow she was free to remarry. To find some lord that would keep her outfitted as a lady of her station ought to be. A man that would see she never suffered from neglect or hunger. A man that would take his pleasure of her, ease himself into her snug heat as Griffin had…

Sucking in a breath, he veered his thoughts sharply away from that prospect, fists clenching around his reins. Suddenly this entire journey seemed a colossal mistake. Even more than when, moments ago, he first stared into his grandfather’s eyes.