Page 38 of Somewhere Along The Way (Mackinnon #3)

At last he said in a soft, subdued tone, “One of these days we’ll tell our grandchildren about this day and then we’ll look back upon it and laugh.”

Annabella almost fell over her own feet. God’s breath! I just met the man and now he has us with grandchildren. I really must avoid this man. He’s not just dangerous, he’s a bloody idiot! “Were you dropped on your head a lot when you were a child?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How about trees? Did you fall out of many?”

“Not that I recollect.”

She stopped and looked at him, square and straight in the face. “Then you really are crazy, aren’t you?”

He tapped her on the nose. “Over you, lass. I thought you knew that.”

She was prepared for almost anything but that confession and the look he gave her.

His face was relaxed, his mouth slightly uplifted, his eyes as calm and blue as a Highland loch, and she felt the strength of his words penetrate her heart and she knew she would have to take extra precautions never to be alone with this man again.

His arm was draped lightly across her back, his hand relaxed against her hip.

Her mother had warned her against men like him, and she wasn’t foolish enough to allow him such privilege.

She reached down to pick up his hand and transfer it elsewhere, only she wasn’t sure just where to put it, for every place he touched her wreaked havoc.

You can’t leave his hand there, she reminded herself.

Taking his hand in hers, she paused a moment, reflective.

She had never held hands with a man before, never had an opportunity to judge the weight and texture of a masculine hand.

What was it about this hand that made her shiver at its touch?

What secrets did this hand hold? What delights was it capable of?

Pulling her thoughts back to what she was about, she dropped his hand away from her body, increasing the tempo of her step, hoping to pull away from him.

A moment later his hand was back on her hip.

She pushed it away.

He put it back.

This time she left it there.

He began to rub her just above the waist with the back of his thumb. She ignored it. He became a little more daring, moving his hand up over her ribs as if they were stairsteps. Now it was dangerously close to her breast. She ignored that as well.

“Why don’t you put up more of a fight?” he asked after a period of extended silence.

“Has that family of yours destroyed your sense of value completely? You know I came to you well buttered and on purpose, yet you put up no more than a token display of annoyance. Why aren’t you curious?

Why aren’t you asking me what I hope to gain by picking at you and putting my hands on you?

Why haven’t you slapped my face or shoved me over this stone fence?

Where are the words of displeasure, even hate, that you should be hitting me with?

What would I have to do, I wonder, before you reacted and stood up for yourself? ”

She had never felt so close to crying. She had never been more determined not to. She might not be up to shoving him over the fence, but she wouldn’t let him see how hurt she was.

“I don’t know how anyone can stand to be around you,” she said. “Did they run you out of Texas? Is that why you came to Scotland?”

“Not too bad,” he said, “for a beginner, but you lack conviction. Is that the best you can do?”

“You are an insufferable swine, sir!”

“Better, but you had to go and ruin it. You were doing pretty good before you softened it with the ‘sir’. You don’t curse a man with kindness, lass.

You should box my ears, or at least give me your coldest stare.

Another one to try would be gritting your teeth, or throwing something.

That way I’d know without a doubt just how much you really do loathe me,” he said.

“I don’t grit my teeth, and I’d be afraid to throw something for fear it would be something I liked. Then where would I be? You would still be as obnoxious as ever and I would only be angrier because I had broken something valuable. I’m afraid I’m destined to be a milksop,” she said.

He laughed. “I don’t suppose that is all bad. You’re too warmhearted to give anyone a cold stare. You have the damndest eyes, you know that?”

She did not respond.

Ross sighed and leaned closer. “Annabella?” he whispered, his breath coming warm and soft across her skin.

Annabella parted her lips in breathy surprise.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. A strand of damp hair fell in her face and she pushed it away.

When at last she spoke, she chose her words carefully.

“If you would kindly leave me alone, I should like to walk the rest of the way by myself. That is why I came out here.”

They stood there for a moment in complete and utter silence.

Nothing stirred. Even the sheep in the pasture seemed to know what was expected of them, and the trees around them seemed as stiff and expectant as the mist that began to creep slowly across the heath.

The air seemed heavy and chill, hanging motionless all about them.

The silence was foreboding and she felt a sense of dread as if she had been given a chance for a reprieve and she had failed to take it—a stupid idea really, since there was nothing even this man could do to save her.

How odd that she wanted to tell him about the strange, unexplainable sentiments she was feeling, wanted desperately to talk to someone who would understand the sadness she felt over meeting a man like him when it was too late.

They came around a turn in the path and saw Gavin coming toward them.

“The devil take you,” he said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Annabella didn’t say a word.

“It’ll take her a minute to warm up to conversation,” Ross said. “She’s too busy enjoying her suffering at the moment.”

“Don’t be deceived by him,” Annabella said. “He is not as funny as he thinks.”

Gavin grinned at Ross. “I’m sorry to see you’ve been strolling with such an ungrateful member of the Stewart family. It isn’t like Bella to be so cross.”

“It’s my fault,” Ross said. “I’m afraid I teased her a bit too much. She’ll take a few days to get over the soreness of it. It’ll be a while before I hear any thanks from her.”

“A cold day in Hades is what it will be,” Annabella said, walking away.

Gavin glanced at his sister just as she went through the door and closed it. “Is that what’s really wrong with her?”

“I’m afraid so. I rubbed her fur the wrong way and set her teeth on edge.”

“Well, she’ll come around soon enough. Annabella is a forgiving sort.”

“Too forgiving,” Ross said, and started walking toward the house. Gavin followed. “How long has your sister been betrothed to Huntly?”

“Not long enough for him to gain her sympathies. She doesn’t care for the man.”

Ross gave him a steady look, then opened the door. “And you blame her?”

“Hardly. Oh, I suppose he’s all right in his proper place.”

“And what place is that?”

“Here in Scotland, with me in England. And not betrothed to my sister.”

“Your parents seem in favor of the match. Why didn’t they settle on an Englishman for her?”

“Annabella has to marry a Scot. It was in the betrothal contract of my parents—something about the youngest daughter having to be pledged to a Scot.”

“Even so, it seems Huntly couldn’t have been the best of the lot. He’s old enough to be her father.”

“He’s a very well-respected man.”

“In English circles, perhaps. Here in Scotland, a man’s family name will carry him just so far and then it’s up to him.”

Gavin looked thoughtful. “You seem to be displaying more than a passing interest in all of this. Why?”

“I plan to marry the lass,” Ross said. For some reason, Gavin didn’t look surprised.

“A betrothal is binding and cannot be broken, except in rare instances when both parties give consent. How do you plan on overcoming that?”

They were in the kitchen now, which was deserted at this time of day. Ross sat down at the table and stretched out his legs. “I’d be a fool to tell you that, now, wouldn’t I?”

Gavin grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. Persuaded, I could be a strong ally.”

“Angered, you could be a formidable foe,” Ross stated flatly.

“True, but there are times that I think I’d sooner see Annabella a spinster than to see her wed to Huntly.”

“It’s a hellish choice no lass should be forced to make.”

“Well,” Gavin said with a laugh, “perhaps you’ll succeed and then she won’t have to.”

“Perhaps I will,” said Ross. “I certainly intend to try.”

Gavin sat down across the table from Ross, arms braced as he leaned forward and whispered, “Do you think we stand a chance of stopping this betrothal?”

Surprised, Ross looked intently at the man he had heretofore considered his foe. “We?” he asked. “I don’t remember cutting you in.”

The smiling countenance that stared back at him was all friend. “I’m in,” Gavin said. “Do we?”

“Aye,” Ross said. “As long as I’m breathing, we stand a chance.”

“As long as we’re both breathing,” Gavin corrected. “You’re going to need me on your side, you know.”

“I won’t turn down the offer,” Ross said.

“Good. As my father says, The tongue of a wise man lies behind his heart. ”

Ross shrugged. “Who knows? They say the heart is half prophet.”