"That's the only reason, then?" he asked in an uneasy tone.
"Oh, yes. You may not know it, but if Julia's right..." I trailed off, wondering how to tell him what Julia had explained just a few minutes earlier. I decided to come at it in a very roundabout way. "Do you know what a shotgun wedding is?"
"I really don't," he said. He must not have been paying much attention to relationships and cultures and suchlike, what with all the other stuff he'd been doing over the years.
"Well, see," I started, and then for some reason I just couldn't finish the sentence. I wondered how I could explain the situation without actually telling him. Tricky. Then an idea occurred to me.
"Read my mind, Angus, because I am really struggling with this," I said eventually.
"I don't understand," he said.
"Read my mind, and you will," I reassured him confidently, hoping like hell I was right. He nodded, and then he closed his eyes. I waited. After a while I couldn't stand the tension, so I reached out and poked him in the shoulder. His eyes opened then and he turned to gaze at me in awe and delight. I sighed in relief and grinned at him. His reaction made the possibility less awful, less frightening somehow.
"Looks like we may have to get married," he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "A shotgun wedding," he nodded in appreciation. "Funny thing is, the first time I saw your father he was carrying a couple of shotguns. We probably shouldn't tell him quite yet."
I giggled then. The idea that Angus might be afraid of anyone was absurd.
"Well, we have a few weeks to get used to the idea," he said, still smiling. "I hope you don't mind, but I asked Julia to put you in my room when you first arrived. If you're OK with it, I'd like to move in with you ."
"Living in sin," I said thoughtfully. I looked at the beautiful man who sat so close to me, watching me carefully. "Oh, who am I trying to kid," I almost laughed out loud at the idea of me turning him down. "Yes, please."
Mark
I have to say, I liked Russia. It was big and cold and a long way from all the uproar of the preceding days. The regular meals were also a massive bonus. I had forgotten how hungry I had been as Anne's prisoner. I guess the internal agitation that had seized me throughout that little episode had blotted pretty much anything else out. But now I was here, with no agitation and tons of food, and I was making it count.