Page 37 of A Tartan Love (The Earls of Cairnfell #1)

Ahead, Isla laughed at something Fletch said, and Fletch looked at her with adoration.

Tavish watched in misery.

He couldn’t blame Fletch.

Isla was irresistible—a butterfly’s wing, entrancing and urging a hunter in pursuit. The iridescent flash of her wit. The flutter of her laugh. The clever dance of her mind.

Letting out a slow breath, Tavish pretended to study the forest—a mix of poplar and larch trees with more exotic rhododendron bushes sprawling underneath.

The lake glimmered through the branches, and the occasional break in the foliage offered stunning views of the surrounding mountains covered in purple heather in bloom.

Isla and Fletch continued their engrossing conversation.

She asked questions. He answered.

He pointed at something across the lake. She paused and stretched on tiptoe to see it.

She shook her head at something he said. Fletch laughed.

It was . . .

Tavish forced himself to breathe slowly—in and out, concentrating on the air moving through his lungs, the sound of his pulse in his ear. A technique he used right before a battle to settle his nerves.

It only marginally helped now.

The trio had just crossed a wee wooden bridge when a voice hailed them from the path ahead. A gamekeeper came into view, hurrying toward Fletch. Holding up a hand for Isla to stay, Fletch stepped off the path to confer with the man privately.

Tavish stopped beside Isla. She spared him a glance but said nothing.

They both watched Fletch and the man converse. The man spoke urgently, arms gesturing. Fletch put his hands on his hips, head bowed.

“Did . . . did that man just say something about poaching?” Isla murmured.

Tavish glanced around the forest. “It wouldn’t surprise me. These estates cover vast tracts of land. It would be difficult to keep poachers out.”

Fletch clasped the man’s shoulder before walking back to Tavish and Isla, a frown denting his brow.

“I fear, my lady, that Mr. McCoy requires my assistance with an urgent matter. My father is away with Grayburn, so this small crisis falls to me.”

“I hope all is well,” Tavish said.

“Nothing I won’t be able to sort, I am sure.” He darted a look at Isla, indicating that he didn’t wish to speak of it in front of a lady. “But I apologize that I must leave you both. Captain Balfour will see you back to the house, my lady.”

“Oh!” Isla looked at Tavish with apprehension.

Fletch, naturally, misread her concern. “You will be safe in his hands, Lady Isla. Captain Balfour is the most honorable man I have ever known. Upon my life.” He pressed his hand to his chest, which Tavish thought was doing it a bit brown.

“I-I am sure.” A blush flooded her cheeks.

“Thank you, Balfour.” Fletch clasped Tavish’s hand before striding off with the gamekeeper toward the house.

Isla and Tavish watched both men disappear around a bend. Birds chirped overhead, and wind rustled the trees. A lazy bee bobbed through.

“Well,” Tavish said into the silence. “That did not turn out as I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat before he did something stupid, like offer her his arm.

“The way ye two were cozying into one another, I figured I was going to have to pretend to examine a bush while ye indulged in a kiss or two.”

If he thought Isla had been blushing before, it was nothing compared to the red that now scorched her face.

“Tavish!” she hissed.

He chuckled. “Am I Tavish now?”

She merely glared at him. “I am hardly so wanton as to kiss another man in front of my husband, no matter how estranged. I could feel your gaze drilling my shoulder blades. Please assume I have a modicum of sense and propriety.”

“Oh?” Tavish tried to keep his voice light despite the jealousy gathering beneath his ribs. “So ye would wait until I absented myself? Or ye have yet to kiss another man besides me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Such cruel words are unbecoming of you, Tavish Balfour. I will not remain here and be slandered thus. Good day.”

With a toss of her head, Isla stomped down the path, away from him.

Shame washed Tavish from head to toe.

He hurried after her.

“Isla, please stop.”

She took one more step. Then two, before whirling to face him, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’m sorry,” Tavish said. “I didn’t . . .” Deep breath. “Ye be right. That was cruel and unbecoming of me. This situation is . . . difficult. And seeing ye, it . . . it has stirred up the sediment of everything . . . ”

She looked at him for a long moment before jerking her gaze to the landscape—the trees rustling and the clouds scudding overhead, growing thicker at the horizon.

Finally, she spoke. “Thank you for apologizing.”

“It’s the least a gentleman can do—acknowledge his mistakes and take ownership of them.”

She continued to study the sky . . . then swallowed. “You wouldn’t have been so quick to apologize. Then . . . I mean.”

Her words caught him off guard.

“I was a bit arse-headed . . . then .” He smiled, a faint thing. “That is the problem with youth—ye don’t think through the consequences of actions as carefully as ye should.”

She snorted. “That shall be the title of the memoir we eventually pen— On Things Unpondered and Misunderstood . I will begin with chapter one—‘A Calamitous Marriage.’”

Tavish winced, letting out a harsh breath.

“Sorry. That was uncalled for, too.” She waved a hand. “I was just as rash and impulsive as yourself. Then .”

“And here I assumed it was my charming manner and handsome face that made ye throw caution to the wind and marry me.”

She shook her head, a grin now teasing her own lips. “Pigheadedness and a desire for adventure, I should think.”

But not love.

She didn’t add that, but Tavish sensed the words anyway.

He mimed a dagger to his heart.

They stared at each other until he sensed that something had eased within her. Or perhaps within himself.

He gave an exaggerated survey of the path.

“Well, ye now have another rash decision before ye, my lady. Would ye like to return to the house the way we came, which will see ye arrived shortly? Or . . .” Here, he lifted an eyebrow.

A wee challenge. “. . . would ye like to continue your stroll around the lake with those menacing clouds lurking on the horizon there and my dubious person for company? I do come highly recommended, as Fletch stated. The most honorable of men.”

He laced that last with a bit of irony, as they both knew there was nothing honorable in their current deception .

Isla followed his gaze, searching up and then down the path. As ever, Tavish could practically see the gears whirring in her brain, weighing the curiosity of speaking with him against her dread of Grayburn discovering her with a Balfour.

Past Tavish would have added something more. A “go on” or “trust me.” Pushing her to be more unconventional, less fearful.

But the Tavish of now knew better.

This needed to be her decision alone.

Finally, she nodded and met his eyes with a faint smile.

With a toss of her chin, she pivoted and began walking down the path that led away from the house, the cant of her head indicating he should follow.

Back turned to him, Isla didn’t see his wide grin or the happy lift in his chest.

Tavish rushed after her.