Brody laughed. "Och, ye know Elspeth likes to look on the bright side, Hamish. She’s the eternal optimist. Why else would she have married me?"
Actually there was more truth in that than Brody might like to acknowledge. The young Laird of Invermackie had cultivated quite the reputation as a hell-raiser and ladies’ man before he wed Elspeth. As a result, the family hadn’t welcomed his pursuit of the youngest Douglas girl. Elspeth however had been convinced since girlhood that Brody was the one for her.
To the astonishment of everyone but Elspeth, she’d been right.
Now her eyes shone with love as she surveyed her tall, dark-haired husband. "She married you because she loved you, you silly man."
Acrid regret soured Hamish’s stomach. Emily would never look at him like that.
"Och, mo chridhe…" Brody whispered, drawing Elspeth close for a tender kiss.
This time it was Emily and Hamish’s turn to share a secret look. Not a look of mutual devotion. One expressing their horror at the cloying atmosphere. The air was thick as treacle with the joys of love fulfilled.
Emily started to laugh. So did Hamish.
"So lovely to see you in tune with each other," Hamish’s mother said from behind them. "In my experience, if a couple can laugh together, they’re well on their way to a good marriage."
All desire to laugh deserted Hamish. His mother’s prediction was so far south of the truth, it might make a joke of its own.
This evening started to seem interminable. He felt a desperate need to be alone with his bride. Not for the usual reasons that newlyweds wanted to be alone. If only that were the case. But at least when they were in private, he needn’t pretend that all was well.
Although tonight when he looked at Emily, beautiful, brave and just as desperate to bolster her pride, he admitted that if they were different people, if he was less temperamental and she was less opinionated, she’d make a fine wife.
If she wanted him, most of all.
But they weren’t different people and their fundamental incompatibility should be apparent to anyone close to him.
Which made it strange that all his nearest and dearest seemed to accept his choice of bride as perfectly natural. The congratulations he’d received sounded sincere – and he should be able to tell, as he’d known everyone here for years, most of them since childhood.
So why couldn’t they see that his marriage to Emily Baylor was a travesty? Devil take it, he and Emily could barely share the same room without bickering.
Still, he’d set out to convince his family that he was content. It was unreasonable to grumble when nobody spared him a hint of sympathy. The only explanation he could find was that because all these people loved their spouses, they couldn’t imagine Hamish not loving his.
If only they knew the unpalatable truth.
"Happy marriages are a Douglas tradition." He heard the edge in his tone.
"They are indeed. I loved your papa dearly." Mamma had never ceased to mourn his father, and she showed no interest in remarrying. This was despite offers from some of the most eligible men in the kingdom, including at least one duke he knew of. "I hope you and Emily discover the same joy."
Hamish’s gut twisted in shame. His mother’s genuine pleasure in his ill-assorted match made him feel like an abominable liar.
"Thank you, Mamma." He hoped that she’d blame the rasp in his response on the strength of his emotions.
"Thank you, Lady Gle
n Lyon," Emily said in a small voice he’d never heard from her before. She must feel as awkward as he did.
His mother’s laugh held a fond note. "My dear, you’re Lady Glen Lyon now."
"I…I don’t feel like I am," Emily admitted. Hamish imagined that was true, not least because despite the wedding, she remained as virginal as the day she was born.
"You will. Give yourself time." His mother smiled at her new daughter-in-law. "It will all seem much more real once you visit Glen Lyon. The estate is so beautiful, anyone would be proud to be its mistress."
"My father’s health—"
"I understand." Compassion softened his mother’s expression. "But don’t wait too long before you go to Scotland. Being chatelaine of Glen Lyon will go a long way toward making up for marrying my rapscallion son."
Ouch. That cut a little too close to the bone, although Hamish knew his mother was teasing.