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Six

W asn’t letting go supposed to be the hard part? Well, she’d let go. But now she was finding the hard part was leaving it that way. Must be all those years of conditioning.

After the curious visit with her unexpected lunch guest yesterday, Sarah spent the afternoon not writing. Followed by a night of not writing. Oh, she’d tried. She’d even gotten pages down. All of which she’d deleted afterward.

Her imagination wasn’t cooperating. She’d start to write about her latest hero, a larger-than-life redhead with devastating blue eyes, but the only eyes she saw when she closed her own were obsidian. The red hair kept morphing into shiny black, curling onto a neck that rose from a pair of shoulders to die for.

Just before dawn, she’d finally thrown in the towel, gone out to meet the sun and surrendered to whatever forces were vying for control of her life. She’d offered up whatever it was the Fates wanted. A blank check. She was committed to this now. She promised not to ignore the feelings. She promised to try to act on them all. She promised to trust them.

Please, please just don’t make me feel that.

She didn’t need a man disrupting her life again.

She’d had her coffee and her shower and taken off for a long walk. Which had brought her to this place. This crossroads. Straight would take her back toward the cottage. Left would lead to the central gardens. Right would be…one of the trails Ian had cautioned her to avoid.

Wouldn’t you know it? Right felt like the way she needed to go. Like fingers tugging at her. Like she could close her eyes and still see the way.

And who would ever know? Ian was gone. His uncle, freshly returned from the hospital, was unlikely to be out and about. Even if she strayed off the McCullough estate and ran into any of the reclusive neighbors Ian had mentioned, she could simply apologize for wandering onto their land. Surely they wouldn’t be as upset as Ian had hinted they might.

She had promised to act on the feelings. The Fates wanted trust?

Here you go.

She put her hands over her eyes and twirled in a circle, throwing her arms out at the last minute to stop herself from toppling over with dizziness. Keeping her eyes closed, she walked in the direction she faced, arms extended out from her sides.

“Sarah, watch out!”

The shout drew her up short. Ian? He was supposed to be gone.

She opened her eyes and found her face within less than an inch of a low-hanging tree branch.

So much for blind trust of the Fates. Maybe this trust thing took practice. Maybe she’d better keep her eyes open next time.

***

What the bloody hell was wrong with the woman?

He’d watched in amusement as she’d twirled about with her eyes closed, her filmy dress flowing about her body. Even when she’d started down the trail he cautioned her against, he’d still smiled, as she obviously had no idea which direction she headed, off balance as she was from the twirl, her arms out to her sides, eyes closed. Until she’d almost bludgeoned herself on the tree, that is.

“What are you thinking? Is this how you go about gathering experience for yer latest book?” Bloody storytellers. Probably writing about a blind woman or something.

“Hardly,” she mumbled, the familiar blush staining her face and neck. “What are you doing here? I thought you left yesterday.”

“Something came up. A change of plans.” He arched an eyebrow. “Fortunately, I’m still here. And right in time to save yer pretty…” Arse. He caught himself and smiled before finishing, “…nose,” and lightly touched his finger to the tip of that nose as he said it.

A shy grin broke across her face. “My…nose thanks you. And the body part that I would have landed on right after I hit my nose on that branch thanks you, too.”

“Yer most welcome. Actually, I’m out here hunting for you.”

“Really? Did you have a premonition you’d need to save my…nose?”

“I fear Henry’s going to get the credit for that one. He sent me. He’s anxious to meet his guest, but since he’s still housebound for the next few days, he hoped you’d join us at the manor for dinner this evening. At six o’clock?”

She looked as if she might refuse.

“It would mean a lot to him.”

She chewed on her lip and he knew she was considering it.

“And I promise, it’s Martha’s cooking this time, no any of mine.”

That earned him a laugh out loud, her green eyes sparkling in the midday sun. “Okay. You’ve convinced me. I’ll be there at six.”

They turned and walked together down the path. When they reached the cottage, he opened the door for her, but blocked her entry with his arm.

“You did notice the track you were on was one I’d warned you might want to avoid, dinna you now?” Apparently his warning hadn’t been strong enough before.

“I…hadn’t really planned to go that direction.” She stopped and gave her head a defiant little tilt. “What exactly was it that I needed to avoid on that path?”

“As you go deeper into the forest, it’s no marked. You could easily get lost and wander off our property. It’s also no cleared, so it can be dangerous. Things like low-hanging branches.” He grinned.

The blush returned and he couldn’t resist the temptation to tease.

“You should consider a large hat for yer walks, Miss Douglas.”

She looked momentarily confused. “And why is that?”

He reached out and tapped her on the nose again. “Because you’ve gone all pink on yer walk today.”

The pink turned an interesting shade of red as it flowed down from her cheeks to…He smiled again, this time wondering where the color might stop.

“Six o’clock,” she said, pushing past his arm and closing the door.

***

She’d only brought two suitcases. How hard could it be to decide what to wear for dinner? She’d sworn she wouldn’t go through the great clothing swap this time, but it didn’t help. She’d even resorted to standing in the middle of the room, eyes shut, waiting for a feeling to direct her to the proper dinner apparel. Nothing happened.

Obviously the Fates were fickle in their guidance. She should have expected that after her earlier “Fate” experience.

Three outfits later, she knocked at the door of the manor house.

Peter answered and escorted her to the library, where her hosts for the evening sat on the sofa, heads together, deep in discussion. As Peter announced her, Ian jumped to his feet, a smile breaking over his face.

“Ah, here’s our lovely guest now.” He strode to the door and, placing a large hand at her back, walked her over to where Henry was seated. “This is Sarah Douglas.”

“You must be Henry.” Sarah hesitated only briefly before she extended her hand. It was, after all, expected of her.

“Please forgive me for no standing. It requires a bit of a production at the moment.” The older man took her hand between his own, a sincere expression of pleasure on his face.

Henry looked exactly as she had expected, right down to the white hair, rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes.

How he felt was another matter entirely. He emanated a positive energy, overflowing with caring and curiosity—the type of feeling she would imagine might be given off by a great healer or scientist.

She ducked her head to hide the grin she could barely contain as she joined Henry on the sofa. Thank heavens she hadn’t lost her ability to laugh at herself. All this touchy-feely practice was making her downright fanciful. If she weren’t careful, she’d turn into the nutcase Brad had accused her of being.

Henry retained possession of her hand, stroking the back of it as if he held a small puppy. “So, Sarah—may I call you Sarah?” At her nod he continued, “How do you like Heather Cottage?”

“It’s wonderful, exactly as you assured me it would be when we spoke.”

“I’m sorry I was no here to greet you when you arrived. I trust Ian has been a considerate host?”

Sarah found herself unable to look away from Henry. His gaze bore into her, making her feel as though he were attempting to see to the very depths of her, like a man searching for something.

A grunt from the chair directly across from her broke the spell.

“I’m sitting right here, Henry. It’s hardly likely you’ll get Sarah to confide my failings in my presence.” He leaned forward, arching an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should let it go for the time.”

“Perhaps. For now,” Henry murmured. Releasing her hand, he sat back, all twinkles again.

A slight frown skittered across Sarah’s face. Emotional undercurrents swirled about the room, strong enough for her to know they were there, but remaining just out of her reach.

“You haven’t anything to worry about. Ian has been a very thoughtful host. He’s gone out of his way to make my stay comfortable.” She turned to Ian, pinning him with a look. “And even if you hadn’t, if I had any complaints worth bothering your uncle about, your being here wouldn’t make a difference. I’d complain if I felt the need.” No reason to point out that she wouldn’t have complained to either of them. Complaints drew attention to the complainer, and attention was something Sarah had sought to avoid her whole life.

“Dinner is served, yer lordship.” Peter’s announcement from the door drew their attention.

Ian stood and reached out a hand to her. “May I escort you to the dining room?”

Sarah darted a glance over at Henry, who smiled.

“You go on ahead. Peter will assist me and I’ll be right along.”

Sarah stopped at the entrance to the dining room, surprised by the old-world elegance. The room sparkled, candlelight reflecting off mirrors and crystal. Ian allowed her to survey the scene before tugging her forward to the table.

“Henry likes the ambiance,” he whispered into her ear as he assisted her to sit.

His warm breath stirred over her ear and down her neck, leaving a little trail of electric energy in its wake. Energy she could feel sparking out all over her body. For now, she’d chalk it up to the ambiance.

He straightened and moved to take a seat opposite her. “Martha has worked all day to treat you to an authentic Scots meal.” A mysterious little smile played over his lips. “I’m looking forward to yer review of it.”

***

Fortunately she’d studied her travel guides and wasn’t taken completely unawares. The haggis, tatties and neeps were expected and, amazingly enough, quite good. There was a moment when Martha announced “spotted dick” that had given her pause, but even that turned out to be a fairly tasty sponge cake kind of thing.

After dinner they’d adjourned to the library for snifters of brandy. The McCullough men were amazingly old-fashioned when viewed together like this. Sarah could easily imagine them standing before that same fireplace a century ago exactly as they did tonight. Of course, she would have been exiled with the women a century ago rather than invited to join them for a drink. That would have been a shame. She was rather enjoying her first taste of brandy.

Sarah nodded and sat quietly for a moment, thinking over the evening’s details, when one in particular popped into her thoughts.

“Both Peter and Martha called you ‘your lordship’ this evening. Is that a custom associated with a Scottish clan?”

Ian chuckled. “I believe yer thinking of a Highland laird. Though I was born there and will always be a Highlander, I’ve few ties to the area now. And I’m no the laird of the McCullough clan.”

“So why do they call you that? I thought that form of address was only used for people with titles.”

Both men smiled at her now.

“That it is,” Henry explained. “Ian’s official title is Earl of Dunscore.”

“Earl? I had no idea.” She turned to look at Ian. “Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”

He shrugged. “What would you have me say to you? It’s no something I consider verra important, actually. The title came into the family so long ago, it’s almost as if it has nothing to do with me.”

“So it’s a hereditary title?”

He smiled at her, as if considering his response. “Aye. It was awarded as hereditary.”

Another sip of brandy warmed her throat and chest, sending residual heat to her cheeks.

“But why is it your title? I mean, if it’s hereditary, wouldn’t it fall to Henry as the elder McCullough?” She looked from one man to the other.

Ian shifted his position at the fireplace, but it was Henry who answered.

“Other side of the family, you might say.”

Both men nodded.

The room was silent for a few moments as Henry made his way to the sofa, waving off Ian’s attempt to help him.

“By the way, I understand you met our good friend and neighbor yesterday.” Henry had at last managed to get himself seated again, his leg propped on a stool.

“Dallyn? Yes. He stopped by the cottage and introduced himself.”

“So he just dropped right in, did he?” Ian spoke without taking his eyes from the fire.

He sounded irritated.

“No. Actually, I was the one doing the dropping and he was there to save my…”—she grinned at Ian who had finally turned to watch her—“…nose. Literally. I missed the top step on the back porch and your friend Dallyn was all that stood between me and a face-first landing.” She rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t have been pretty.”

“Yes, well, he’s ever the hero, is he no?” Ian muttered.

“I believe he dined with you?” Henry watched her closely, continuing after her nod. “I dinna think in all these years he’s ever taken a meal with one of my lodgers.”

“Really? Well, all I can say is that man was giving off some serious hunger signals….” She stopped when Ian snorted and strode across the room to refill his glass.

“Would you care for another?” He brought the decanter with him to refill Henry’s snifter. At her nod, he splashed a bit more into her glass as well.

Henry leaned toward her, and in a stage whisper confided, “It’s Ian’s belief that Dallyn considers himself quite dashing where the ladies are concerned, though he would not say it about his friend.”

“Really? I guess I could see that.” Sarah twisted in her seat to look at Ian and was surprised by the dark scowl on his face.

“You should be more careful. Just because some strange man walks up to yer door, disna mean yer to invite him in for a meal.”

“Perhaps not, but when one walks up to my door and rescues me, that should qualify for something.”

Ian’s scowl grew to a full glower.

Henry had once again claimed her hand, patting it. “I think what Ian’s trying to say is that you need to use caution with strangers. You had no way of knowing that Dallyn was a good person.”

“Yes I did. He felt good.”

Whoa…how did that slip out? The brandy must be as strong as it was tasty.

“Aha!” Henry crowed, still holding her hand.

Ian simply stared at her, his face devoid of any emotion at all.

Well, wasn’t that exactly what she had known would happen? Wasn’t that how everyone reacted when they witnessed her oddities?

Henry let go of her hand and groaned as he shifted in his chair. “I fear I have to forgo much more of our extremely pleasant evening.” The man was obviously in pain.

“Have you still no taken any of yer medication?” Ian tilted his head toward the older man, frowning once again.

“No. And considering the amount of brandy I’ve poured into my system, right on top of the wine with dinner, I dinna believe I’ll be taking any tonight.” Henry grinned at him like an unrepentant child.

“Then at the verra least, you need to get some rest.”

“And so I shall.”

Ian assisted Henry to stand and gave him the cane he was using to get around, calling Peter to help the man upstairs.

“Oh, before I go.” Henry cast a mischievous smile Ian’s direction. “I think you should escort our lovely Miss Douglas on an evening constitutional. It would do both you youngsters a world of good.” In response to Ian’s glare he continued, “What? It’s quite good for the digestion. I’d walk meself but for this.” He pointed down at his knee and, donning an innocent look, leaned heavily on Peter as they made their way out of the room.

Sarah waited until she thought the man would be out of hearing range. “It’s okay, Ian, you shouldn’t feel you have to take me for a walk.” She tried for a smile that wouldn’t come as she stood up. “I should leave now anyway. It’s getting late. Thanks for a lovely evening.”

Ian stopped her before she reached the door, his hands on both her shoulders. She hadn’t even heard him move. She made a mental note to avoid after-dinner brandies in the future.

“No, Henry’s right. A walk is just what we need. The fresh air will do us both good.”

He led her down the hall and outside, where he released her in order to turn and shut the front door.

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It felt like the first she’d had in several minutes. Somehow Ian’s fingers on her shoulders had restricted her ability to breathe properly.

That was a new feeling—even for her.

They walked for a while in utter silence, Sarah trying to decide how to broach the subject. She didn’t require, or even appreciate, Ian’s forced companionship. It was embarrassing. Although she accepted that Henry was trying to be a good host, she’d rather be alone than to have him force her company on his nephew. Especially now that she knew Ian was someone so important. As if an actual earl had time to waste on her.

By the time they reached the Night Garden, still having no diplomatic words prepared, she decided to make do with the plain, undiplomatic ones running through her head like little joggers.

“I’m impressed by how you go out of your way to humor your uncle, but you don’t have to continue to spend time with me because he asks it of you.” Her voice breaking the silence sounded overly loud to her own ears.

“I dinna do that.” Ian took her hand and pulled her to sit on a bench in the corner of the garden.

“Well, it appears to me that’s what you’ve done. Tonight’s a perfect example. You were obviously unhappy with Henry’s request that you walk with me, yet here you are.” She pulled her hand from his. One more deep breath to keep up her courage to finish this confrontation.

“Just goes to prove that appearances can be deceiving. My irritation with Henry had nothing to do with his suggestion that we walk.”

She studied her feet. He might be telling the truth. If only she had the nerve to touch him, she’d know for sure. No, she didn’t need proof one way or the other. It didn’t matter.

“I’ve spent time with you because I chose to. Because I wanted to get to know you better.” He paused. “Sarah?”

When she didn’t look at him, he gently took her chin in his fingers and turned her face to him. “Sarah. It’s important to me that you believe me. I’m no out here tonight because of Henry. I want to be here. With you.”

She suspected it was coming. Thought she could see his intention in his eyes. The adrenaline kicked in, giving her plenty of warning to take flight, but she couldn’t seem to get her muscles to cooperate with the directive from her brain.

He leaned over and kissed her. Only a light feathering of his lips across hers, yet it packed the power to send her eyes fluttering shut and her stomach plummeting to her toes and back again.

“Come on, Sarah, let’s get you home, luv.” He stood in front of her, his hand extended, waiting for her to take it.

When had he risen? How long had she sat there with her eyes closed?

She took the hand he offered and let him walk her to the cottage. At the door, he leaned down and touched a light kiss to her forehead.

“Friends?”

She couldn’t quite make out his expression in the shadows where they stood.

“Friends,” she agreed, a bit breathlessly.

She watched his back, the muscles highlighted as he moved from shadow to patches of light along the pathway to the manor house.

That kiss at the door might have felt like friends, but the one in the garden certainly hadn’t.

***

All in all, it had been quite an evening.

Ian sat in the library, staring into the fire, the book he’d thought to finish lying untouched in his lap.

Before Sarah arrived for dinner, Henry had insisted on rehashing the details of both of Ian’s encounters with Sarah’s soul. The man had been fascinated. Apparently, for all his contact with souls, and in spite of the numbers he had healed, Henry had never actually seen one.

It had been a first for Ian as well, but that didn’t seem to make it any less frustrating for Henry.

Ian knew the man had been trying to look beyond Sarah’s barriers all evening, constantly probing and making physical contact. He hoped Henry’s little outburst before he called it an evening meant he had gained the knowledge he sought. Ian would be grateful for any insight into the mystery of Sarah.

She had agreed to be friends.

Certainly that would make it easier to discover what he needed to know—if Henry hadn’t already accomplished that. And it would make it much easier to keep tabs on her, protect her, if necessary.

So if being friends was going to make everything so much easier, why did the prospect feel so complicated right now?

Ian puffed out his breath, dropping his head back against the chair. The question might be complex, but the answer was really very simple.

Because in the garden tonight, she hadn’t felt like a friend. She hadn’t responded like a friend.

He closed his eyes and instantly pictured her as she’d been when he dragged himself away from that kiss. Her face tilted up toward him, her soft lips slightly parted, her eyes fluttering open, momentarily unfocused.

Why had he done something so foolish as to kiss her?

He could rationalize that, in that moment, she had needed to be kissed. But the truth was, when he’d gazed into her eyes, he had desperately needed to kiss her.

Because the hurt in her eyes had stung him. Because it bothered him she’d misread his reaction to Henry. He could hardly confess that his irritation was due to worry over a rebellious nephew who wouldn’t follow his doctor’s orders.

He had to regain his normal control, which seemed to slip in the woman’s presence. He couldn’t afford to get sloppy. He had responsibilities that could not be ignored. And, for now at least, she was one of them.

Tomorrow he would call Danny and decide what to do next. He’d talk to Henry and see what he could learn.

He scrubbed his face with his hands, as if to erase any doubts, any confusion.

Friends?

That would work for now. It would have to.