But as she turned away to ready herself and her pet for the day, and Iain mechanically followed suit, he knew it would be a very long time, if ever, that he felt gratitude for losing the dream of her again.
Chapter 18
By the time they reached Alnwick for their afternoon stop, Seraphina thought she might shatter from the determined unconcern she had adopted since the disastrous kiss with Iain that morning.
That man, however, had never looked so dour. Had he really expected them to pick up where they had left off, to not only remain married but to build a life together? Yes, the truth was devastating; it was heartbreaking to know they had been fooled, that they had spent the past thirteen years hating one another when all along they had both been victims of her father’s cruelties.
But that did not mean they could ever go back to those people they used to be and live happily ever after.
Didn’t it?
The traitorous words whispered through her head, like the threat of a storm brewing on the horizon. Seraphina, in the process of removing Phineas from his cage in the busyyard of the White Swan Inn so he might have his afternoon exercise, blanched. No, it most certainly did not, she told herself fiercely as she helped the parrot to her shoulder and stepped away from the carriage. She was happy in her life, having built a prosperous business with her sisters and in possession of a wonderfully tightly knit band of friends. She was independent, and free, and did not have to answer to anyone. If she gave up this plan to divorce Iain—one that she had balked at from the first but now saw the wisdom in—she would be forced to concede everything she had worked for. And after all she had endured, she was not about to allow any man to have power over her. Not even one as delicious as Iain.
And he was delicious. For a moment she was overcome with memories of how wonderful he had felt under her, the taste of him on her tongue and the way his large hands had roved her body. But no matter how desperately she wished for a repeat of that morning—and then some—she knew they could never indulge in that again. Not if it caused him to change his mind regarding their permanent separation.
Iain, who had disappeared inside the inn while she saw to Phineas, reappeared then, a basket hooked over one arm. He considered her for a moment with an unreadable expression before, holding up the basket, he said, “I know your bird has need of exercise. And I suspect you and I do as well. I thought a picnic would be just the thing. The innkeeper directed me to a grassy spot with a fine view of the castle. It is a bit of a walk, but I dinnae think you would mind it.”
Which shouldn’t have softened her as much as it did. Yet his thoughtfulness, coupled with the tic in his cheek that told of an uncertainty that was altogether endearing, didmuch to crack the protective layer she had built about her heart. Or, rather, crack it more than it already was, though she had tried with all her might to keep it in one piece.
“That’s… lovely. Thank you,” she replied quietly, stepping back and indicating he should lead the way.
Heading out onto Alnwick’s busy main thoroughfare, they walked in silence. Well, except for Phineas, who was busy whistling and chirping and swiveling his head this way and that as he took in the new sights and sounds. All the while Seraphina’s mind was busy, comparing the quiet man beside her to the one who had been her companion these past days of travel.
Not that he had been particularly verbose along the way. Yet there was something subdued about him today, morose, contemplative. It wasn’t until they turned down a quieter side street, and then one even farther on that led to a wide swatch of green lawn, that he spoke at all.
“We’ll stop in Berwick-upon-Tweed tonight,” he said quietly. “Scotland is just beyond that.”
Her stomach dropped. Why? It was not as if she wished to continue with this farce longer than necessary. Especially since things were so strange between them now. Or, rather, stranger than they had been.
“Yes,” she replied evenly, though her insides felt anything but. “And then a long day’s journey to Edinburgh, correct?”
“Aye.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Though perhaps it would be wise to rest for the night in Haddington before heading on to Edinburgh. If you’re amenable, that is.”
“Yes,” she blurted before the words were fully out of his mouth, then silently cursed herself for her eagerness. Which was ridiculous. She could not want to travel nearlysixty miles in one day, after all, which they would be doing if they tackled the entirety of the trip from Berwick-upon-Tweed to Edinburgh. No, her eagerness had everything to do with comfort for them and Iain’s men and the horses, and nothing at all to do with the fact that she would be claiming an additional day of travel with Iain by postponing. Certainly not.
They found a flat, shady spot near an oak tree and busied themselves by laying out a soft blanket and emptying out the contents of the basket, a quantity of paper-wrapped goods that revealed bits of cheese and bread and meat pies still warm from the oven. When Seraphina got to the last parcel, she paused as it fell open to reveal a quantity of fresh fruit and nuts.
“For the bird,” he explained gruffly when she gave him a quizzical glance.
Which should not have further softened her heart. Yet it did.
“Thank you,” she managed, lowering Phineas to the blanket and laying the open parcel before him. He made a swift beeline for it, reaching in immediately with his beak, taking hold of a nut, using his talon and his tongue to open the shell and extract the tender insides. He gave a few contented little chirps, bobbing his head up and down.
Seraphina, watching him, smiled for what felt the first time since leaving Morpeth. “And it seems Phineas thanks you as well,” she said. She glanced up—only to find Iain watching the bird with fascination.
“I never actually watched the beast eat before,” he said. “But it is an incredible sight, isn’t it. His tongue is like a finger the way it manipulates the food.” Phineas reached for another nut, cracking into it with his beak, and Iain visiblywinced. “Though I already know what damage that part of it can do.”
She laughed softly. The sound drew his attention to her, but there was no answering amusement on his face. And when he spoke, her amusement faded as surely as the morning fog on the sea that kissed Synne’s shores.
“I am sorry about this morning,” he said gruffly. “I suppose it was nostalgia, that kiss reminding me of what we used to have.”
She swallowed hard, taking hold of a soft roll and breaking off a piece, crumbling it in nervous fingers. Phineas, sensing another treat, waddled over and began picking the pieces off the blanket.
“It did feel nice to experience that again,” she agreed softly. “It brought back so many memories I had purposely forgotten. Not that it can truly bring those times back,” she hurried to say. Dear God, she didn’t want to renew his interest by some thoughtlessly spoken words.
“Aye,” he replied. “I know that now.”
She nodded, expecting relief, troubled when only a soft sadness fell over her.
