Page 6 of Hope in the Highlands (Seduced in Scotland #1)

Belle had insisted that Hope and her sisters treat Lismore Hall as their home, and over the next several days, that was exactly what they did. While Faith had set up her easel and watercolors in the east hall gallery, Grace happily explored the library where a vast number of medical books had been gathering dust for years.

Hope on the other hand felt restless. While the castle certainly provided a great deal of entertaining opportunities for exploration, what with its hidden passageways and ancient history, she felt rather confined. Deciding that she needed to walk—far, wide, and aimlessly—to quiet her ever growing thoughts, Hope made her way to the walled garden one afternoon.

The scent of late springtime flowers filled her nostrils as she climbed down the hidden stone staircase that led out of her bedroom. The gardener, Mr. Fitzpatrick, had his back to her, tending to a holly hedge at the southside of the garden. Not wishing to disturb him, Hope moved with a quickened pace towards the little wooden door that led into the bee yard. As gently as possible, she unlocked the little metal latch and pushed open the rough-cut door, closing it quietly behind her.

Turning around, Hope saw several dozen egg shaped wicker domes, each sat on a wooden table on an upward sloping field, edged on three sides by a forest. Frowning, she had just taken a cautious step forward when the faintest of buzzing sound hit her ear and she froze. She had quite forgotten all about the bees.

She was frightened at first, until she realized that the bees wouldn’t attack her simply for being there. Still, she kept to the left of the field, avoiding them until she found a path leading through a pine tree grove.

The sun filtered through the tall branches, dappling the dirt path with fragments of light. Hope inhaled deeply. The scent of earth and pine resin settled over her in the most comforting way. London had never been a joy to smell, but the air around Lismore was somehow sweet.

Before long, the trees thinned somewhat and the horizon shone in the distance. Hope could see several massive mountains, surrounded by a mist that seemed to be rolling up the sides of the foothills, sitting behind a large expanse of water. The puffy white clouds and blue sky reflected brightly in the loch and hundreds of tall, pointy purple flowers, swaying gently in the breeze.

Hope let out a little huff of amused breath, stunned at the beauty of this place. It was strange to feel so comforted in such a vast landscape, but she had never felt so at home in her entire life, not even in her own bedroom back in London. Heading down to the water’s edge, she found a large, flat rock to climb up on.

Sighing, she stretched out her legs beneath her blue-and-cream-colored skirts, and looked out over the water, enjoying the solitude of the highland wildlife. Laying down, she folded her arms behind her head and closed her eyes. The warmth of the stone radiated against her back as the sun kissed her face. This place was truly lovely and she wondered how long she could stay before her aunt would send someone to look for her.

By the sounds of the cursing Scotsman, not long at all.

“Bloody bowfin trout!” An unfamiliar, masculine voice yelled. “I’ve not had a bite all damn day.”

Hope lifted herself onto her elbow and looked behind her where she believed the voice had come from, but she didn’t see anyone.

“What are you doing on this side of the loch anyway?” another voice said and to Hope’s surprise, she recognized it.

It was Graham.

“I rowed clean across it and I still couldn’t find one boggin fish,” the other man said, just as she finally spotted them.

A tall, somewhat fair-haired man came out from around a group of trees, dressed in a kilt, shirtsleeves and what looked like a gansey. Hope had heard about the knitted fishing sweaters from some gentleman or other, bragging about their sporting skills during a ball in London. Supposedly it was so tightly knit that water couldn’t sink into it. Two wicker baskets bounced against his kilt-clad hips has he walked, with two straps crossed diagonally across his chest. He was carrying a long wooden pole as he made his way toward the edge of the water some several yards away, where a little boat sat. He was completely unaware of Hope.

A few steps behind him was Graham, dressed in his usual dark gray trousers, shirtsleeves and a partially buttoned gray striped vest. He looked rather charming in a devil may care, natural sort of way, causing a faint fluttering feeling in Hope’s stomach.

“You know, fishing is supposed to be a peaceful pursuit,” Graham said, stepping around a large rock on the shore.

“So, everyone keeps telling me,” the slightly fair-haired man said, throwing his things into the small row boat. “It’s a delusional sport. I’m not doing it again.”

“Och, you don’t mean it.”

“Yes I do.”

“I’ll come with you next time, eh? Show you how it’s done.”

“It’d be a waste of time,” the man said, as he bent down at the front of the boat. With apparent ease, he lifted and pushed it into the water, jumping onto it as it freed itself from the muddy shore. He turned back. “I’ll see you at your uncle’s then?”

“Aye,” Graham said with a nod, lifting up his hand as the man sat, rowing away.

Hope was sure that Graham was going to turn back but just as he did, he paused and she felt a sudden trail of gooseflesh flare up the back of her neck, causing her to shiver. Slowly, he turned around and—without searching, almost as if he knew instinctively where to look—his eyes pinned her to right where she sat.

She inhaled sharply as he tilted his head, staring at her as if he couldn’t quite believe that she was there. Embarrassed that she had been caught eavesdropping, she shifted her body, bringing her legs over the edge of the rock as he came forward.

“Hope?” he said, confused. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was thinking,” she said, before shaking her head. “I mean, I went for a walk, to think and ended up here.” She turned her head, gazing out over the water to the row boat, before looking back at Graham. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“You’re out here alone?” he asked, ignoring her apology.

“Yes.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit unwise?”

“Why would it be unwise?”

“It’s dangerous wandering about by yourself. You could get hurt or lost.”

“Oh, no,” she said, leaning her body forward to slide off the rock.

Graham’s hands were up on her waist before she could stop him. He lifted her down to the ground, and though he let go, she was sure his hands had lingered for a moment longer than was necessary. She swallowed.

“‘Oh, no,’ what?”

“Hmm? Oh,” she said, remembering her thoughts. “I just meant, no, it isn’t dangerous.” He made a face as if she didn’t know what she was talking about. “I often go for walks alone. Nothing has ever happened to me.”

His frown deepened.

“You mean, you’d go on walks through London, unaccompanied?”

“Yes.”

“And no one ever said anything?”

“Well, no. My sisters never could keep up as I tend to walk rather quickly, and my grandmother would usually be asleep when I went out—”

“You went at night?” he asked incredulously, cutting her off. She gave him a perplexed look.

“Yes.”

He let out a quiet curse, though Hope still heard and she tilted her head. Why was he so put out by this information? Yes, it wasn’t the most proper thing to do, but it was something she hadn’t been able to help. Sometimes a woman just needs to walk alone, to sort out her own mind.

“And you don’t see any issue with that?”

“No, I don’t.”

“How have you survived this long?” he asked, shaking his head. “Don’t you know what could’ve happened? What could still happen if you go off alone around these parts? Even if no one bothers you, you could still fall into a river, crack your head on a rock, be attacked by a stag, trip off a craig—"

“Well, you’re making me miss London.”

“But that’s even worse! Pickpockets, cutthroats, thieves, murderers, all lurking about your door step, waiting to make a mark.”

“I lived in a perfectly safe neighborhood in London, thank you very much.”

“Oh?” he said, unbelieving. “And I suppose if anyone did cross your path, you’d give them the benefit of the doubt?”

Hope squinted at him.

“What is your aversion to believing in people?”

“Reality.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have an aversion to believing in people because I live in the real world. Where no one does anything for anyone for nothing.”

Hope lifted her chin.

“Well, that’s a very cynical outlook to have.”

“It’s the only sensible outlook to have,” he countered, taking a step towards her. “And the fact that you somehow have managed to go through life unscraped just makes you the exception. Not the rule.”

That was an unfair assumption on his part. Hope had delt with a great deal of tragedy in her life and she wasn’t going to let him minimize it simply because he had decided to let his obstacles defeat him.

“I have not gone through life unscraped,” she said somewhat forcefully. “I’ve had my fair share of misery. But I don’t let my bad fortune dictate my life, like some people.”

He glared down at her.

“Like me?”

“You said it,” she said, ignoring the heightened speed of her pulse. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I think I’ll return home, of wish I’m certainly capable.”

Pushing past him, Hope was faintly aware of the scent of clover that seemed to cling to him. Of course, he didn’t let her get very far without falling into an easy stride next to her, even though she was trying to walk purposefully fast.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t capable,” he said as they entered the cospe of pine trees. “But you can’t truly believe that traipsing alone through the wilderness is wise, can you?”

It was cooler here than it had been out in the sunlight, and the air was heavy with moisture and the scent of sap. A delightful shiver went through Hope, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the temperature change or the fact that Graham’s shoulder brushed against hers.

“Nothing bad has happened so far.”

“But that doesn’t mean it can’t.”

“So, I should spend all my time worrying about things that may or may not happen?” she asked. “It seems rather trite if you ask me.”

“You never know what could happen.”

“Well, perhaps one day I’ll find out,” she said smartly, smirking to herself when a large hand suddenly wrapped around her wrist, pulling her round as the wind escaped her.

With her back pressed up against the rough bark of a pine tree, Graham towered over her, gazing down at her darkly. The shock of being touched and held in his grip made her heart skip. She knew she should be offended, furious even, but her mouth fell open as she stared into his green eyes.

“Perhaps you will,” he said, his tone oddly soft despite his words sounding like a threat.

“W-what are you doing?”

But he didn’t speak. Instead, he looked down at her with a heated stare that made her skin tingle. The flutter in her stomach grew and when he bent his head down towards her ear, her eyes closed as her breath caught.

“You should be wary of people, Hope. Not everyone is trustworthy,” he whispered, his breath warm against the sensitive skin.

She wanted to tell him he was wrong, to push him away—and she nearly did. Bringing up her hands, she landed them on his chest. She had every intention to push him, but the strong, solid form of him was too interesting, too new.

At first, she didn’t move. She just held her hands to his chest, but then slowly, her fingers moved up as her mouth hung open. She had never touched a man like this and to her humiliation, she couldn’t stop herself from enjoying it.

He pulled back only a fraction and she saw his eyelids flutter down as he watched her. She could feel his heart beating erratically and she was nervously glad, for hers was equally irregular.

Slowly his gaze lifted, and she was sure he was going to touch her hands and press them down. But then his hands were in her hair, and he was kissing her as if he were trying to teach her something he couldn’t quite understand himself.

Hope entire body was immediately consumed in a wash of unmitigated need. Her fingers curled into his shirtsleeves, pulling him further into their kiss. His tongue searched her mouth, lapping and tasting every bit of her as he pulled her toward him, crushing her body against his firm frame.

This was what Hope had always dreamed of. To be kissed, held, touched with such possessiveness that her toes curled. She moaned into his mouth. Never had she expected that the unknown desires that plagued her in the middle of the night could be managed, celebrated even, for that’s what this felt like. It was as if she had finally found what she had always been looking for, and she never wanted it to end. When he tore away from her, she nearly fell over trying to follow him, to keep their bodies joined.

But Graham’s long arms held her steady while he kept her at bay. They were both struggling to regain their breathing and eventually he shook his head.

“Hope, I—”

“Please don’t apologize,” she said quickly, worried that he might, but he only looked confused.

“What?”

“I… Please don’t say you’re sorry.”

“I’m not sorry.”

Pleasure bloomed in her chest.

“Oh. Good.”

“But I, this… We can’t do this.”

“Oh,” she said, nodding, though she didn’t understand. “Yes, of course,” she swallowed. Then added, “Why?”

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he groaned.

“It’s just… It’s not happening.”

She nodded again, unable to understand why he was so determined. Perhaps he didn’t find her attractive? Or maybe she hadn’t been good at it.

Heat spread across her cheeks, but to her confusion, Graham took her arm and tucked into his as he pressed her to walk again. She did so on unsteady feet, all while her mind was reeling. What had that all been about? Thankfully, he didn’t speak and by the time they reached the bee yard, he seemed perfectly put together, save the concerned look in his green eyes.

He opened the little wooden door that led into the walled garden. She wanted to say something, anything, but her words failed her and when he didn’t speak either, she hurried away.