“Dunsany is growing too old to take a hand in the running of the estate,” Grey pointed out. “Gordon is dead, and Isobel and her mother cannot manage the place alone. Our families have known each other for decades. It is an entirely suitable match.”
“Is it, then?” The sardonic skepticism in Jamie’s voice was clear. Grey turned to him, fair skin flushing as he answered sharply.
“It is. There is more to a marriage than carnal love. A great deal more.”
Fraser swung sharply away. He strode to the edge of the mere, and stood, boots sunk in the reedy mud, looking over the ruffled waves for some time. Grey waited patiently, taking the time to unribbon his hair and reorder the thick blond mass.
At long last, Fraser came back, walking slowly, head down as though still thinking. Face-to-face with Grey he looked up again.
“You are right,” he said quietly. “I have no right to think ill of you, if ye mean no dishonor to the lady.”
“Certainly not,” Grey said. “Besides,” he added more cheerfully, “it means I will be here permanently, to see to Willie.”
“You mean to resign your commission, then?” One copper eyebrow flicked upward.
“Yes,” Grey said. He smiled, a little ruefully. “It will be a relief, in a way. I was not meant for army life, I think.”
Fraser seemed to be thinking. “I should be…grateful, then,” he said, “if you would stand as stepfather to—to my son.” He had likely never spoken the word aloud before, and the sound of it seemed to shock him. “I…would be obliged to you.” Jamie sounded as though his collar were too tight, though in fact his shirt was open at the throat. Grey looked curiously at him, and saw that his countenance was slowly turning a dark and painful red.
“In return…If you want…I mean, I would be willing to…that is…”
Grey suppressed the sudden desire to laugh. He laid a light hand on the big Scot’s arm, and saw Jamie brace himself not to flinch at the touch.
“My dear Jamie,” he said, torn between laughter and exasperation. “Are you actually offering me your body in payment for my promise to look after Willie?”
Fraser’s face was red to the roots of his hair.
“Aye, I am,” he snapped, tight-lipped. “D’ye want it, or no?”
At this, Grey did laugh, in long gasping whoops, finally having to sit down on the grassy bank in order to recover himself.
“Oh, dear God,” he said at last, wiping his eyes. “That I should live to hear an offer like that!”
