An errant ray of sunlight broke through the trees, rimming her head in golden light—as if some mischievous angel needed to add ahosannato the jubilation chorusing in Malcolm’s chest.
And yet . . . even the melodramatic sentimentality of his thoughts did nothing to dim his joy.
Shehadcome.
By coincidence again?
Perhaps.
“Miss Brodure.” He nodded his head, halting before her.
“Mr. Penn-Leith.” She stood and dipped a small curtsy, the low timbre of her voice curling around him.
“What brings ye past my swing on this fine day?”
If Viola found the question intrusive, it didn’t show.
“I missed seeing my favorite dog,” she said, patting Beowoof’s head.
“Truly? I would have thought my discourse on the differences between Highland and Angus cattle yesterday would have put ye off both Beowoof and his owner.”
“Nonsense. I find cattle endlessly fascinating.” Viola’s answering grin did alarming things to Malcolm’s breathing.
“Now I know ye be bamming me.No onefinds coos fascinating.”
“Are you quite sure?” She squinted up at him, mirth dancing in her eyes. “You were rather emphatic on the topic yesterday. I think you are a bit of a coo evangelist, Mr. Penn-Leith.”
“Nae, coos dinnae comprise their own gospel. They’re merely useful.”
“Mmmm.” She tapped a gloved finger to her chin. “I must disagree. Your sermon on them had the feel of a tent revival meeting. I’m fairly certain I heardhallelujahs. In truth, I was rather converted to coos after our discussion.”
Malcolm couldn’t control his startled guffaw of a laugh. The sound felt rusty, like shears left too long in the rain.
He hadn’t laughed in a lifetime.
Laughter belonged to his younger self, the one who had loved Aileen. Since her death, there had been too little humor in his life.
And yet, even after only a few interactions, Viola lightened his heart in ways he could scarcely articulate.
In ways he wasafraidto articulate.
He had never anticipated meeting a woman like this. Someone he not only liked but also admired with a bright intensity. Someone who challenged his wits and offered up intelligent, effortless conversation.
But why had Viola been waiting on the swing today? Despite her teasing, Malcolm doubted she had an overwhelming interest in cow husbandry.
Perhaps she sought him out because, unlike the rest of his neighbors, he placed no expectations on her. That with him, she could just be . . . Viola.
Or . . . did her interest in him possibly go beyond that?
“Come,” he motioned, still smiling. “Allow me tae escort ye home.”
“Thank you.”
“Dinnae thank me quite yet, lass. I have stipulations.”
“Stipulations?”
“Aye.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I dinnae wish to speak of cows.”
