“Displeased?” he echoed incredulously.

“But surely even your heart is not so hard that it can turn me away after I have humbled myself and we have come together as husband and wife again.” She arched a brow, daring him to contradict her.

“You think my heart is hard?”

“I only mean that you’re not as sentimental as some.”

“For God’s sake, woman—whatever this is about, whatever you mean to do here, I’ve no’ the time or the patience for it, aye? I canna guess what’s brought you back so suddenly after a three-year absence, but it’s no’ for good or any other reason you claim.”

“But it is!” she insisted, pressing a hand to her heart. “I mean only to be a good wife.”

“You made that choice three years ago, did you no’?”

“That’s not true!” she cried, loud enough for the men to hear. Arran spurred his horse forward, forcing her smaller one to come along, moving them out of earshot of the men.

“All right, of course I understand why you might have come to that conclusion,” she said, suddenly agreeing with him as she clung to her horse. “I did make a wretchedly uninformed choice when I left.”

He snorted.

“But on my life, it was a mistake! A horrible, wretched, awful mistake, and I am terribly sorry for it now. I am desperate to make amends! Won’t you at least allow me to try? Did last night mean nothing to you?” she asked, reaching for his gloved hand.

God, how he wished she wouldn’t touch him. He was weaker when she touched him, and he yanked his hand free. “Bedding a beautiful woman doesna change the fact that I canna believe a word that falls from your lips. There is no reason you’d come back to me now, save some abominable purpose that I donna care to know.”

Margot looked stricken. “Abominable!” she repeated, making the word sound far more vile than he’d intended. “I’ll tell you what is abominable, sir! Banishing me without even bothering to say goodbye—that is abominable! Having a change of heart for the good most certainly is not abominable.”

“You say change of heart. I say duplicity,” he said with a flick of his wrist. “Alas, we’ll never know which it is, will we, for I donna intend to play along with your charade, Margot. Fare thee well, wife. Give Norwood my compliments.” He let go of her horse and moved to slap its rump, sending it back to its oat bag.