Part of her wanted more, more, more.
But the other part retreated in fear, terrified of the hidden depths of her memories.
Was this why she hadn’t kissed Simon?
Because part of her intuitively knew that introducing physical passion into their relationship would disturb the safety she felt with him?
But a marriagerequiredphysical intimacy. So how was she to avoid stirring up the same ache and desire she had felt with Kieran?
Or rather . . .wouldshe feel those same things with Simon?
She darted a glance at him.
Simon was frowning at Kieran ahead.
Kieran looked over his shoulder, meeting Simon’s gaze. Eilidh knew Kieran’s expressions well enough to know he was wishing a pox upon Simon’s person.
She sent Kieran a silent rebuke—a flaring of her nostrils, the slightest shake of her head. He narrowed his eyes at her and turned back to Mrs. Fitzpatrick.
“I must say, Eilidh,” Simon said, the frown moving into his voice. “I cannot reconcile the rather intense way Master MacTavish regards you. Is there some past understanding between yourselves?”
Again, she heard the uncertainty in Simon’s voice, the worry.
But what could she say?
Well, you see, Simon. Kieran and I are married in a way, but then not precisely, either. It’s all a muddle. He makes me feel so very many things, most of which are painful, but he does make a comfortable pillow for sleeping. Oh, and I did kiss him, and it felt rather like fireworks shooting off in my veins, explosive and spark-laden . . .
Mmmm.
Well, not that, obviously.
Simon deserved someone so much more devoted than herself.
She settled on, “As I said earlier, Master MacTavish was my father’s protégé, but my father was never keen on myself and Master MacTavish establishing an acquaintance. Any undercurrent you sense is likely related to that.”
There.A truthful answer. Or, at least, a reply that wasn’t a falsehood.
Simon continued to frown. “Has Master MacTavish treated you well while you have been here?”
Ah, sweet Simon. “He has. But . . . if it is all right with you, I would greatly prefer tonotspeak further about Kieran MacTavish at the moment.”
“Very well,” Simon nodded, saying next exactly what Eilidh knew he would. “Then we will not speak of it.”
This is Simon, she thought.
Blessed, tranquil Simon.
Boring Simon, Lady Aster and Lady Rose had called him.
But . . . what was amiss with boring?!
She saw Simon’s face and took his arm and all thoughts ofThe Minervafled.
He never ruffled her.
He never overset her life with kisses and flirtation and insistent encouragement.
Simon just let her . . . be. He allowed her to float in an ocean of numbness, safe from the harrowing depths of her own mind.
