Carlisle Cathedral
“Very well, state your conditions. I may have a few of my own.”
The frown that flitted across her face, pleased him. If it bothered her that he might have conditions, all well and good.
Her mouth set in a straight line and determination gleamed in her eyes. “You will swear to agree to all, or we will not wed.”
“I will not swear to agree to things I’ve not yet been told of.”
“’Tis fair.” She looked down at the floor and twisted her hands together.
Stefan reached out, lifting her chin with his fingertips until her gaze met his. “Tell me my darling, mo luaidh. Your wishes are important to me.”
Her eyes widened. “Am I truly your darling?”
“Aye. Would I propose to wed a woman who was not dear to me?”
“So, you would say this to any woman you wed?”
“Possibly, but I intend to wed you. And you, luaidh, are not just any woman.”
Her lips quirked in a half smile, gone almost before he could see it.
“You’re conditions, please.”
She pushed his hand from her chin and straightened. She was a tall woman, almost as tall as he. They would fit well together, and she need never feel he looked down upon her.
“First, I will not live with you until after we are wed.”
“I would not expect it.”
Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise.
He wanted to hug her. To comfort her and reassure her that while he lived no man would ever treat her as her father had. But he held back, knowing she was not ready yet to hear those promises. Indeed, as proud as his darling was, she’d likely bite his head off for implying that someone other than herself should see to her well-being. “And?”
“I wish to be wed in Carlisle,” she blurted at long last.
“If that is…”
“At the Cathedral.”
“I’m not certain…”
“By the bishop.”
How he would arrange that, Stefan had no idea. He did not know the bishop, nor was he acquainted with anyone who knew the bishop. But if it meant marriage with Linna, he would find a way to have the bishop officiate.
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