Of course, she also noticed that his eyes were warm like a pool of molten chocolate, and two freckles punctuated the corner of his left eye, as if waiting for a third to make an ellipsis.
His dog continued to nuzzle at her skirts, head swiveling between his master and her as if to say,why won’t she cuddle me?
“If ye would like tae pet him,” the man continued, swallowing hard, “he likely willnae irritate your senses, as he doesnae shed. ’Tis some oddity in his breeding.”
Viola hesitated. How she longed to touch the dog, but to potentially risk an asthma attack . . .
She met the man’s gaze, her hesitation surely evident. His eyes pinned her in place, dark pools of calm.
“It’s true. Ye can trust me.” The quiet assurance of those words rumbled over her.
And . . . she believed him.
She looked down at the eager dog. As if sensing that a good scratching might finally be in the offing, the animal wagged his tail more vigorously, nudging his body closer to hers.
Heavens. He was a handsome pup.
She took a fortifying breath.
Life was to be lived, was it not? Surely, this was part of her commitment to no longer exist adjacently.
Tugging off a glove, she bent forward, holding out her hand.
“There now,” she crooned. The dog ecstatically communicated his delight, sniffing her hand. Smiling, she cautiously scratched behind his ears as she had seen other dog-lovers do.
Gracious! His fur was warm and soft, curling around her fingers. The dog angled his head, granting her better access.
Nothing in the motion appeared to aggravate her senses, as her lungs would normally feel the irritation immediately.
Crouching on the grass that ran down the middle of the lane, Viola rubbed the dog with both hands.
She took a deep breath.
And . . . nothing.
No tickle at her throat. No tightening of her airway.
Nothing at all.
How many times had she longed to own a pet? To bury her face in a dog’s side and simply relish in sharing air with another living creature?
Laughing in wonder, she lifted her gaze to meet that of the Scot.
“How utterly marvelous!” she exclaimed, the astonishment in her voice as clear as birdsong drifting from the mist-shrouded trees.
Malcolm stared atthe unknown woman as she scratched Beowoof’s ears, her smile an electric zing of happiness.
Utterly marvelous, indeed.
The woman, to put it bluntly, stunned his senses. His very bones vibrated in their sockets as if struck by a brass gong.
That initial glimpse of her . . . so wee and fey, standing alone on the lane, slowly coming into focus out of the fog like a dream. He had nearly thought her a kelpie, a mythical beast said to haunt Scotland’s rivers and lochs, luring men to their dooms.
And when their eyes had met . . .
She had wrenched the breath from his lungs as thoroughly as any Highland gale.
Silvery blond curls framed a dainty oval face and achingly-blue eyes, the graceful silhouette of her body outlined against her dark blue cloak.
