Frida would not lean on me if she knew the truth of my identity, and the real reason I first came to Ember Hall.
But now was not the time to dwell on such matters. The most important thing was to rescue the sheep and see Frida safely home.
The sheep field was bathed in a dim yellow light when they finally crested the hill. Trees reached their snowy branches into the cold air and the wind had died to a mere whisper.
“There they are.” Frida pointed to a huddle of shapes beside what could only be a snow-covered stone wall.
The sheep had black faces, which helped them stand out against the snow. Otherwise, their task would have been impossible.
“There is a hut to our right,” she continued. “We must first fetch the crooks so we can better steer the sheep down the hill.”
“Pray, lead the way, milady.”
He followed her steady footsteps to the small wooden hut with a perfect blanket of snow covering the roof. Frida unfastened the door and they both stepped inside, grateful for shelter. Callum looked about him at a tidy shepherd’s store, furnished simply and sparsely. A row of curved crooks had been propped against the far wall.
Frida held one out towards him and as Callum took it from her, his fingers brushed against hers, unleashing a wave of feeling which coursed all the way up his arm.
“Frida,” he said again, softly this time.
When she turned her eyes upon him, he could see they reflected his desire.
She feels it too, this connection between us.
Of course she must, for why else would they have shared such a powerful kiss?
Callum swallowed, newly aware of their close proximity.
Of the unlikelihood of us being disturbed.
He reached out a hand and touched her cold cheek. “About yesterday,” he tried.
She leaned into his palm, just for a moment, before turning her face away. “Let us not talk of that now.”
The rejection stung, although he forced a genial smile. “Of course.”
Her gaze snagged his. “Later,” she whispered. “When the sheep are safe.”
And his heart soared again.
“Later.” He nodded, grasping the crook and following her back out of the hut, the snow crunching beneath his feet.
But what will I say, later, he demanded of himself as Frida fastened the door.
Will I declare the truth of my heart? That I’m falling in love with her?
For that was at the root of it all. This was no mere passing fancy for a pretty young woman.I love Frida de Neville.
A sharp breeze lifted his cloak away from his body, bringing the cold sting of reason to his racing thoughts.
Nay, he could not declare it. He had no business doing so. For he was still a spy for Robert the Bruce.
The enemy of her family.
Chapter Thirteen
Frida was almostglad to be back outside, where the redness in her cheeks could be explained by the biting cold. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with icy air and quelling the flickering sparks of desire that had ignited inside her belly.
Only momentarily though. For when she turned her head, there he was beside her. Handsome as ever, with his deep blue cloak swirling in the wind. The set of his strong shoulders promised her safety and protection, but the passion in his eyes declared something else entirely.
