Brogan gritted his teeth. She didn’t need to throw his bastardization in his face. “Fine then, no’ a real marriage. No need to get your drawers in a twist. I can see that look on your face.”
“A fake marriage?” Her eyes narrowed, incredulous.
“Aye. Everyone, even my men, will think we’ve wed. And when the prince is safe and ye’re back at home with your brother, I’ll release ye from any obligation to me.”
“What is the advantage of that? I can see none other than placing a label on me.”
“If ye canna see that being aligned to me is to your advantage, then there is no point in continuing this conversation.”
“’Tis more than that, and ye must realize it, Grant. I’d be giving up quite a lot by tying myself to ye. Independence, for one.”
“I’d no’ take away your independence.”
“But everyone else would expect it. They will look to ye when I speak, instead of looking at me.”
“And I’ll look right back at ye, lass.” And he meant it. If the bastards wanted to take away her voice, he’d give it right back.
She was silent for several long moments, her lips pursed, her eyes scanning his face. “A fake marriage?”
“Aye.”
“With a priest, though? It will make it real.”
“No’ if we hold our fingers crossed behind our backs,” he teased.
“No’ if we dinna consummate it.”
Brogan grunted. Not consummating a union with her would be damned difficult, but she was right, it was the only way in which they could annul their union. “Aye.”
“What if I wanted to…lie with ye without the obligation of being tied to ye for the rest of my life?”
No lady had ever uttered those words before, Brogan was fairly certain. Or at least none in his experience. But hearing the words from Fiona’s lips was enough to make his mind go numb with need.
He cleared his throat. “I’d no’ make ye into the thing I’m trying to save ye from being.”
“Ye’re trying to save me from being what, exactly?” Her fingers toyed with the latch on her belt, all of her ire returned, focused back on him.
Those were the wrong words to say, clearly, for he’d basically just called her a whore, which was not at all his meaning. Lord, he was making a bungle of this. “I’m no’ good with this.” He waved his hand, dismissing his previous words.
“What is ‘this’?” She waved her hand, mocking him.
“All of it.”
“Clearly.” She harrumphed, lips pursed, flicking the button on her belt that held the small dagger in place. The threat was evident.
Brogan was about to walk away to clear his head when she said, “I’ll consider a fake wedding with ye.”
Stunned into silence for a moment, he wavered on his feet. Had he heard her? But the look on her face said it all—this was not a game.
“All right,” he said in a slow drawl.
“On two conditions.” Her tone made it clear she would not budge on this. “I get to keep my dowry. And I get to continue with my duties.”
“Done.” There was no hesitation on his part.
“What’s in it for ye, Grant? Ye’ve yet to tell.”
“I did. It’ll be less of a headache.” That was as much as he was willing to divulge to her or himself.
* * *
What the bloody hell was going on?
Fiona had never been more confused in her life. Brogan was sending out conflicting signals and saying things that made no sense. Didn’t he think her presence was annoying? Wasn’t that why he was always subtly and not so subtly telling her to go home?
And now he wanted to introduce a fake marriage into it?
Brogan rubbed a hand through his hair, a frown marring his mouth, lips she enjoyed kissing. A wife would get to kiss those lips every day, any time she wanted.
And yet she’d not be a true wife to him. This was to be a fake marriage. Which was irritating, too, considering the night before she’d been thinking about giving herself to him. Making love.
If they were to be fake wed, that was the last thing they should ever do if they wanted to get out of their marriage. Wedding in the eyes of God meant a marriage that was consummated.
What exactly had Fin said that put him in this state of mind and going down the path of a fake marriage?
Hell, she herself had been thinking about marriage last night.
Och…but it was all so ridiculous, and a complication neither of them needed. They had one goal—find the prince.
Adding a marriage to the mix would only muddle that mission.
A fake marriage, she had to remind herself.
Maybe he did have a point. If they were married, there would be less question in the villages about her riding with so many men and no escort. People might respect her messages more.
Which was a horrible realization.
They should respect her messages for who she carried them from and what she’d been able to do for this country, not for who she was attached to.
And yet when they’d sought shelter in a village two nights past, the men had judged her to be a whore.
This was about preservation. Brogan was right. She’d gotten herself out of trouble hundreds of times, but the stakes were rising, and he had been there for her a lot over the last weeks.
Sometimes even the strongest of women needs someone to lean on.
Why did he have to make so much sense?
“I think we could both use less headache,” Fiona said, mimicking his words. Let him have his way. She already knew he felt more for her than he was letting on. Just like she was hiding so much.
Brogan put out his hand, and she stared down at the offered appendage for several breaths before putting her own hand in his. He drew her closer, eyes locked on hers.
“We might be getting fake married, but I’ll no’ be fake kissing ye.” His voice was low.
“As long as that’s as far as it goes.” She regretted saying the words as soon as they were out, because she very much wanted it to go farther, if only for that one time to look back on.
“Aye.”
He brushed his lips over hers. It wasn’t a sensual kiss, not like what they’d shared before, but a perfunctory one. One that sealed a deal.
“What is the dowry that ye want to keep so badly?”
“Probably a stable full of Millas,” she teased. In truth, she wasn’t certain what it was anymore. It used to be a chest of coin, a parcel of land, and other goods, but since the war had waged on in Scotland, coin had to be used. Land had to be sold or rented. Knowing that Brogan didn’t care for any of it was a comfort, because she would have disappointed him had it mattered.