“Or...or if not a picnic, then perhaps a walk about the gardens. Or an afternoon stroll along the shore. We’ve so much to discuss, haven’t we?”

He had never wasted a single day of his life with picnics or strolling gardens. “I’ve work to do,” he said flatly.

“Of course you do!” she said, her smile slow and easy, which he considered to be a practiced bit of women’s sorcery. “You may rest assured I’ve not forgotten your preference for work.”

He tilted his head curiously to one side. “I must be losing my hearing, aye? For when you said work, it sounded a wee bit sharp.”

“Did it? My apologies,” she said with a graceful nod that caused her loose tresses to fall into her face. “But I thought perhaps that as I have only just returned, we might enjoy one another’s company today. Don’t you want to talk? Haven’t you anything you’d like to say?”

A cough behind Arran reminded him that they had an audience. He tried not to squirm in his saddle; he could think of nothing more undignified than squabbling with his wife in front of his men, but he could see from the high color in Margot’s cheeks that it was a definite possibility.

“Madam, I—”

“I thought we might, mind you, but then I heard the most distressing news.”

He sighed.

“Would you like to know what I heard? I heard that you would like me to return to England.”

Arran opened his mouth, but she interrupted him before he could speak by raising a slender finger.

“Actually,” she said, “what I heard is that you are sending me back to England. That rather makes it sound more like a fait accompli, doesn’t it? A banishment of sorts. But as I said to the poor man who finally admitted this awful rumor, it couldn’t possibly be true, because if it were, you would tell me yourself. Is that not so?” She smiled fully then, quite prettily, too. Except that her eyes were staring daggers at him.

Arran groaned. He glanced over his shoulder. He had the rapt attention of a dozen men. “All right, carry on, then,” he snapped. “Do none of you have wives?” He leaned down to grab the bridle of Margot’s horse. He wheeled the beast about, pointing it in the direction of Balhaire. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as they pulled away from the group.

“Asking a legitimate question.”

“Have you lost your mind, then? Riding down here on a horse you can scarcely control to interrupt the training?”

“I can control it! Perhaps it was a bit rash, but you can imagine how confused I was. I will admit, in the spirit of complete honesty between us, that I was quite hurt you could think to banish me away after last night. I know you are displeased with me, Arran—”