Page 11

Lydia

Lydia strolled along the dirt path skirting the stables, keeping a watchful eye on her unruly brood as they scampered ahead of her.

Thank the heavens above for the unseasonably warm weather they’d been having of late.

Much like their father, these children had a seemingly endless supply of energy.

Confinement did not a happy Jennings make.

Her gaze caught on a tall, broad figure walking a black mare. An aching wave of yearning floated over her, settling heavily in her belly.

“Oh, it’s Mr. Campbell with Jasmine!” Felicity exclaimed. “Can we go say hullo, Mama?”

“Of course, dearest.”

“Her belly is getting quite large,” Felix said, studying the mare. “I wonder if we’ll be able to feel the foal moving yet.”

“Race you!” And Felicity took off, amber plait flying behind her, skirts whipping, little booted feet a mere blur.

“No fair!” Fitzwilliam cried, launching after her. And promptly tripped, tumbling headlong to the ground.

“She always does that,” Felix grumbled as he jogged to Fitzwilliam, quickly hoisted his brother up, and took off after his sister.

Felix nearly caught up with her before she reached Mr. Campbell, an advantage of being eleven to her four and already showing signs of inheriting his father’s height.

Fitzwilliam was growing quite tall as well, though he was only five, and with his affinity for clumsiness…

it was honestly fortunate he made it to the group without falling again.

Lydia reached the small group gathered around the mare. Mr. Campbell stood with his large hand on Jasmine’s lower belly and indicated to Felicity to place her hand next to his.

Her eyes popped wide. “Oh! It kicked!”

“I want to feel!” Fitzwilliam squeezed his way next to Felicity, and Lydia bit back a smile.

“Easy there, lad,” Mr. Campbell said with a rumbling laugh. “There’s plenty of belly here for ye both.”

Felix lingered at the mare’s head, gently stroking her nose. Lydia stepped up next to him.

“Wow,” Fitzwilliam’s small voice rang out, brimming in awe. “I swear I just felt a hoof.”

“Aye, Jasmine’s been through this a few times afore,” Mr. Campbell explained. “The muscles of her belly are stretched looser than a younger mare’s. At this stage, it’s no’ surprising we can feel the foal so clearly.”

Lydia loved how he was always imparting education and wisdom to the children. She wanted them well-rounded, to learn about all parts of life. There were many valuable lessons one could learn in taking care of animals. Empathy. Responsibility. Patience.

She leaned closer to her eldest son. “It is gallant of you to allow your younger siblings the first turn at feeling the foal’s movements,” she murmured.

His high cheekbones, nearly identical to her own, flushed a faint shade of pink. “I am their big brother. It is my responsibility to ensure they are happy. I’ve had more years to enjoy things like this than they have.”

She playfully nudged his shoulder—goodness, it was nearly the same height as hers now—and shot him a smile. “You’re going to make a wonderful Earl one day, Felix. Much like your father, you’ve a gift for looking after those around you. Always wanting the best for them.”

The pink dotting his cheeks deepened, but there was pride shining in his warm amber eyes when he met her gaze.

“My lady.” A deep baritone came from her side.

Lydia startled, and it was her turn to have a blush heat her cheeks. Not the usual faint blush the man before her inspired in her. But coal-hot and what she was sure was strawberry-red. Because of her embarrassing expedition last night.

She forced her lips into a smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Campbell. Jasmine is doing well, I trust?”

His gaze tracked over her face before meeting her eyes. “Aye, fit as a fiddle. No need to worry over your precious mare. I’m just walking her out, allowing her to stretch her legs a bit. Take advantage of the warm weather. As are your bairns, I see.”

She glanced up. Felicity and Fitzwilliam were off a ways in the distance, appearing to be participating in some sort of jumping contest.

“Let us hope we don’t have a repeat of the mud incident of 1794.” Mr. Campbell’s rumbling chuckle floated around her, like joy landing on her skin.

“Dear heavens, I hope not.” Laughter shook her words slightly, and she peeked at him. “Goodness, I don’t think she was even yet three? Already wanting to best her brothers.”

“Climbed right atop that three-rail fence over yonder.” He jerked his chin over to the paddock in the distance.

Lydia let out a sigh. “And jumped…straight into the mud puddle.”

She caught Mr. Campbell’s eye, those piercing blues glimmering. His frame shook, and he covered his face, clearly trying to regain composure. Lydia bit her lip, trying to hold back her smile. But it was impossible. He was endearing. Handsome. Jovial. Perfect.

He finally emerged from behind his hands. “Covered head to toe, couldn’t even see her wee face. Just blinking owl eyes, stunned speechless.”

“Probably the first time that had ever happened,” Lydia murmured between soft laughs. “She’s a wild one.”

“Aye, she has spirit. Determination. Qualities important for a lass in this world. It’ll serve her well. Even if it might make your pulse take flight.”

She cocked her head and studied him. Not many men would align with that way of thinking. “That is not…the typical way of thinking of my set.”

“Och. ‘Tis because your set can’t handle a strong woman.” His pupils flared and his gaze lingered, caressing every inch of her face. The way he looked at her just now, the deep resonance of his tone…it was like he thought her strong.

“May I walk her, Mr. Campbell?” Felix asked, interrupting the charged moment.

“O’ course, Master Felix.”

Felix clucked at the mare. “Come now, Jasmine. Let us stroll.” He gently led the mare away, lowering his voice and murmuring softly to her.

“That boy has a gentle hand. A natural affinity with animals.”

Lydia hummed in agreement. “I love seeing them with the animals. I like to think it’s a good indication of the sort of man he will grow to be. If one is kind to animals. To children.”

“Aye, you have that right. It says a lot about a person, man or woman. If they’re cruel to those who have very little ability to protect themselves, those who depend on us”—his voice hardened—“it tells one all ye need to know about their character.”

They fell into silence. But Lydia’s skin prickled, buzzed. She was mortified about last night. And as the uncomfortable silence drew out, she greatly feared she may have ruined the friendship she’d formed with the man standing beside her. One that she valued much more than he’d ever know.

“I must beg your pardon—”

“Abou’ last night—”

They both cut off and shared a small smile. And with that, some of the uneasy tension that had settled between them seemed to drift off.

“After you, my lady.”

She blew out her cheeks and stared unseeing into the pasture.

Here went nothing. “Mr. Campbell, I must apologize for my forwardness last night. It was not my intention to give offense or cause you discomfort. I would appreciate if you could…perhaps forget the entire matter? And we could return to how things were beforehand? It would weigh heavily on me if my actions have jeopardized our friendship.”

“Nae.”

Her gaze snapped to his. Steel blue, sharp, and glinting with something potent, overpowering.

“I cannae forget, and I have no wish to, my lady.”

“Oh?” Her lips formed the word, but she barely made a sound.

He lifted his cap and scrubbed a hand through his dark locks. “To be frank, my mind’s more muddled than a nest of bridle reins left in a hurry. Lord Bentley spoke with me this morning. He mentioned some things…that he wouldn’t stand in the way. Sounded an awful lot like he was giving his blessing.”

He opened and closed his mouth, and for the longest time didn’t manage to form words. Finally, he burst out, “I dinnae understand your marriage, or your arrangement, my lady. But I wanted you to know, I didnae refuse you because of you. The last thing I would ever do is refuse a gift like that.”

“Oh,” she parroted, her hand fluttering at her breast. “So, then. You…are amenable?”

His lips tugged up into a half-smile. “That depends. On what it is you want. Because if ye’re looking for a quick tumble with a braw Scotsman, while flattered, I dinnae think I’m yer man.”

“And if I said I’d like a-a tumble, but also more?”

Her skin went up in flames. Good heavens. She wanted a tumble with the man—even if she didn’t fully grasp what that truly meant. But that wasn’t all she wanted. The way her heart twisted and tightened in her chest was proof of that.

“I would ask what more means to ye, my lady.”

“Lydia.”

His voice lowered, deepened. “Lydia.”

Her pulse trembled, dancing in her veins.

Her name from his lips, rich and heated—she could feel it seeping into her, lighting a fire low in her belly.

“I’d like to get to know you, Malcolm. On a more intimate level, not just in the physical sense.

And see what comes from it.” She glanced at her children in the distance.

“Discreetly, of course. I would not dare tarnish my children’s view of our family as a loving one by revealing that their parents are not a love match.

This family’s foundation is love—just not in the way most would expect. ”

His features softened, and his blue irises glowed.

“I think I’d be amenable to that. And would never want to do anything to hurt yer bairns.

” He winged a dark brow, teeth flashing in a quick smile.

“But I have questions. This isnae a normal situation, ye have to admit.” He lifted a hand to the back of his neck and squeezed, his head bowing bashfully.

“It’s nae one I’d ever dreamed I’d be lucky enough to find myself in. ”

“You’ve dreamed of it, then?” she whispered.

And the look he sent her wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

“Aye, Lydia. I’ve dreamed of it.”