Page 21

CHAPTER 21

“Ye must wear a cloak, M’Lady,” Jane urged, trying to fasten the heavy garment around Anna’s shoulders as they stood together in Anna’s chambers. “It’s colder here than at Castle MacTorrach. I daenae want ye catchin’ yer death.”

The maid shivered at those last words, shaking her head like she was trying to fend off a fly. Since word had arrived that Anna would be meeting Gordon at noon, by a sycamore tree on the clifftop, Jane had been restless in helping her mistress to dress for the occasion. Indeed, throughout, she’d been coming up with countless excuses as to why Anna shouldn’t go.

“Aye, perhaps it’s best if ye daenae attend,” Jane said for the hundredth time. “It might nae be safe. Ye’re nae used to the terrain. What if ye slip and break yer neck? What if there’s a strong gust and ye topple over the cliff? What if?—”

“I’m goin’ to be late,” Anna interrupted with a reassuring smile, taking hold of Jane’s hands and squeezing them gently. “I’ll be fine, Jane. I promise.”

Jane remained obviously unconvinced. “Well, ye should have a chaperone. I’ll just grab me cloak and join ye, or I can send for that lively lass—that nice cousin of his, to accompany ye.”

“Nay!” Anna blurted out, startling the maid. “What I mean is,” she added, more sedately, “that this is somethin’ I must do on me own. If I’m to get to ken the real Laird Lyall, there cannae be others wanderin’ around, watchin’ intently. He’ll never be his true self with an audience, and I willnae be me self either.”

Jane pursed her lips. “I daenae like it.”

“I ken, Jane.” Anna chuckled. “But I swear I’ll keep me wits about me.”

Glancing back at the door, as though she feared Gordon might be standing outside it, listening in, Jane hurried to the bed. Pulling open the drawer of the side-table, lifting out the portfolio that was supposed to be secret, the maid withdrew something else. She tucked the unknown thing beneath her apron and ran back, folding it into Anna’s hands.

In an instant, Anna knew what it was.

“Jane!” she gasped. “I daenae think this will be necessary.”

The maid’s expression hardened. “Nevertheless, ye should take it. A lass cannae be too careful, especially in a place she doesnae ken with people she doesnae ken.”

The bone handle of the dagger was cold in Anna’s hand, and keenly familiar. For three years, Anna had reached under her pillow at night to make sure it was there, and, in fairness, she was the one who had packed it for her stay at Castle Lyall.

But I daenae think he would hurt me. I really daenae . In the solitude of his study, he could have done anything he wanted to her, and he had chosen pleasure not pain. Indeed, any torture he’d inflicted on her had been of the teasing, titillating, thrilling kind—tormenting her with anticipation, with the withdrawal of his talents, not brutality.

“Fine, I’ll take it,” Anna grumbled, hiding the sheathed dagger in the pocket of her gown. If only to be allowed out of the room, and out of the maid’s sight, to see what Gordon had planned for their first proper engagement.

Twenty minutes later, hounded half the way by Jane, Anna found herself beneath the shade of the crooked sycamore. It stood a short distance back from the edge of the cliff, alone in its watch over the sea, making Anna wonder how it had come to be there. Had someone planted it, or it had it grown there by accident? Either way, she admired its tenacity, surviving in such a place, where some might have said it didn’t belong.

The day was surprisingly warm, the blue sky streaked with wispy clouds, the sun shining brightly on the somewhat restless sea. But whether it was perfect weather for Gordon’s plans or not remained to be seen; her betrothed hadn’t arrived yet, although she was at least half an hour late.

Is he nae comin’? Has he gone already?

“Does noon mean somethin’ different to the west of here?” his voice suddenly boomed, as if she’d summoned him out of thin air.

Whipping around, she blinked in confusion as Gordon did seem to emerge out of thin air, rising up from beyond the cliff edge. She knew there was nothing but a sheer drop on the other side of it, and thrashing sea below, so how on earth was he doing that?

“I… couldnae decide what to wear,” she stuttered, frowning at him.

He walked toward her, extending a hand. “Nay matter. Ye’re here now.”

She hesitated to take it. “Have ye suddenly learned to fly since yesterday?” Her gaze flitted to the cliff edge, her stomach twisting into knots. “Where did ye come from?”

He frowned as if he didn’t understand. “The cove.”

“Pardon?”

“Down there,” he replied. “The cove.”

Her throat tightened, concerned about what their rendezvous might entail. “Did ye… climb up?”

“I can, but I dinnae ,” he answered, not boasting just matter-of-fact. “There are steps.”

The breath of absolute relief that left Anna’s lungs, releasing all of the anxiety that had tightened her muscles, brought a smile to her lips… and a deeper frown to Gordon’s brow.

“Were ye lookin’ for bat wings?” he asked drily. “Ye should add them to yer next drawin’.”

She chuckled, letting the feeling of laughter relax her some more. “I ken that was daft of me, but if ye were standin’ where I was standin’ and saw what I just saw, nae kennin’ about the steps, ye’d have thought the same thing—that ye’d just seen a man fly.”

“I wouldnae,” he said flatly.

Still smiling, she nodded. “Nay, I suppose ye wouldnae. Ye’re too serious for that.” She tilted her head to one side, observing him. “I imagine ye’re someone who sees a beautiful sunset and thinks about what it means for tomorrow’s weather.”

He narrowed his gray eye and held out his hand again.

Anna gazed back at him, remembering the face in the portrait; it was still there, still handsome, still breathtaking, just disguised by the scars and the eyepatch. It was almost like a distraction tactic, the gaze drawn to the ‘flaws’ instead of the beauty that remained: the longer she looked, the more she saw that beauty, and the more the supposed flaws just became a part of it, adding layers, adding interesting facets to his handsome face.

With a breath, she took his hand at last.

There was nowhere Gordon relished as much as the cove, though he couldn’t quite grasp its usual tranquility as he carefully led Anna down the curving steps. They were cut into the cliff, meandering down to a crescent of white, sandy beach and pristine water.

In truth, he’d never shared this spot with anyone before, and while he knew it was ridiculous, he harbored some anxiety that she might not find it as beautiful as he did.

She doesnae have to like it, he told himself sternly. She doesnae have to come here again after today if she doesnae like it. Better for me, in truth, if that is the case.

“I’d hate to come down these steps in the rain,” Anna said nervously, gripping his hand so tightly that she was at risk of cutting off the blood to his fingers.

“Then daenae ,” he replied, as if that should have been obvious.

She smiled uncertainly. “Aye, a fair point.”

Feeling her nerves vibrate through his hand and up his forearm, he paused and took pity on her. It was easy to forget that she wasn’t of his clan, and likely hadn’t been near to the sea before, considering she hadn’t left Castle MacTorrach.

“Get on me back,” he commanded, turning and crouching a little.

He’d expected her to protest or hesitate, so he almost wasn’t ready for her as she abruptly clambered onto his back, her slender arms looping tight around his neck. But he kept his balance, curving his arms around her shapely thighs, enjoying the press of her body against him, as he headed down to the cove, wearing her like a quiver.

Reaching the sand, he held onto her a moment longer, carrying her toward the blanket he had arranged on the beach, with luncheon packed by the cook into a basket.

Only then did he set her down, suppressing a smile as she gasped and sank down to her knees, touching the sand as if she had been imprisoned for years and was just receiving her first taste of fresh air and different scenery.

“Ye daenae like heights?” he asked, sitting down.

“I daenae like heights with a risk of fallin’,” she countered. “And I really daenae like steps that are just vague ledges cut into a cliff, all lopsided and dangerous. But… I like this.”

She swept a hand around her, a broad smile lighting up her face as her gaze took in the peaceful shore, the gently lapping wavelets, the soft white sand, the majesty of the towering rock that kept the wind out of the cove.

“Do ye swim?” he asked.

She nodded. “As often as I can, but only in a calm loch.” She laughed nervously. “I daenae think I’d dare swim out there.”

“It’s calm enough in the bay,” he told her. “If ye can brave the steps, ye should swim here.”

She glanced at him, her cheeks pinkening. “I’ll think about it.”

He considered telling her that he’d be only too happy to accompany her, to bring her down to the cove on his back again, to keep watch over her as she swam in case she got into any difficulty, but the words wouldn’t come. It was offering too much, and he didn’t want to make any false promises that he wouldn’t be able to continue after they were married.

I’ll be too busy. This is why ye wanted a capable bride.

“Sophia will join ye,” he said instead. “She likes to swim, too.”

Anna nodded slowly, repeating, “I’ll think about it.”

The conversation dwindled, as Gordon realized that these ‘engagements’ might be far more difficult than he’d anticipated. Freeing his ardor was one thing, where he had control and she was willing to obey, but just… talking wasn’t a talent he possessed. He felt awkward, possibly for the first time in his life.

Seeking distraction, he hunted in the picnic basket that had been prepared, placing delicacies onto a plate: cold, thinly sliced venison; a slice of some manner of meat pie; a piece of bread alongside crumbly, sharp white cheese, paired with wild strawberries that were still plump and juicy and perfectly sweet.

He handed the plate to Anna. “Tell me anythin’ ye daenae like.”

After all, they were meant to be getting to know one another.

She blushed as she took the plate, thanking him. “I’m nae fussy when it comes to food. I’ll eat just about anythin’, though I prefer honey on me porridge, nae salt.”

“Ye like things sweet?” he said, taking a strawberry for himself.

As he bit into it, he watched her expression change, her beautiful green eyes flitting to his mouth. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were the one eating the fruit, and as he brushed away a stray bead of juice and licked his thumb, her throat bobbed, a shine glazing her eyes. As if her mind was elsewhere, in a different, more private place.

“I… do,” she choked, snapping out of it.

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

She cleared her throat. “And ye? What do ye prefer?”

He met her gaze, letting the silence linger and strain, just to the point of discomfort. “Contrast.”

“Pardon?”

“Sweet and sour. Sweet and salty.” He shrugged.

Pleasure and pain. Bliss and torment. The wait and the reward. The chase and the capture.

Stuffing a piece of bread and cheese into her mouth, presumably to suppress any words that wanted to come out, she couldn’t quite hide the rush of pink that crept up from her bosom, coloring her neck and cheeks to a pleasing flush. Maybe, this talking business wouldn’t be so difficult, after all.

Swallowing the mouthful, Anna fanned herself furiously with her hand. “Goodness, those cliffs do well at keepin’ the wind away. It’s… so hot down here. Are ye nae hot?”

“Nae yet,” he replied, the heat of his desire already rising.