A wide pasture stretched to the left of the house.
A familiar figure bent over the gate leading to the field.
Oh.
Malcolm’s broad shoulders flexed, his back to her as he latched the gate shut. The wind ruffled the hair poking out from underneath his tartan cap, sending the heavy weight of his great kilt swaying.
Beowoof sat beside his master, tongue lolling. He let out a joyous woof when he saw Viola, instantly loping across the garden to her side. The dog’s unfettered happiness made her vision go blurry again.
Malcolm pivoted with Beowoof’s movement, his eyes meeting hers.
His gaze swept her body. And somehow . . . he knew.
In that single, simple glance, he understood the depth of her despair. The pain that had chased her to his door.
His brows furrowed and he strode toward her, a towering thundercloud gathering.
“What is it, lass?” His concerned voice undid her. “What has happened?”
Viola pressed her palms to her face in an attempt to prevent more tears.
Gently, his warm fingers engulfed her wrists, pulling her hands from her cheeks before sliding to cup her jaw. The rasp of his work-worn palms sent electricity coiling in her belly.
He leaned closer, chestnut brown eyes searching her face.
“Och, you’ve beengreiting,” he said on a whisper, thumbs stroking her cheeks. “I see it in your red eyes.”
Oh, this impossibly precious man!
Viola closed the remaining distance between them and threw herself upon his chest, weeping. Her arms wrapped around his waist, her face pressed to his sternum, her nose buried in the wool of his great kilt.
The motion felt impossibly right, as if Malcolm’s body had been created simply to bear the weight of her tears.
His arms banded tightly around her, pulling her close.
Viola rested everything upon him: arms and chest, hopes and fears.
He bore the burden with comforting ease.
“There, lass,” he murmured against her hair. “There, there. Has someone died?”
Viola shook her head.
“Ah. Then I only have one other question—” He paused to push back her hair, his rough hand cradling her face again. “Who do I need tae give a good thumping?”
That was the last straw—the final thing that sent Viola tumbling head-over-heels for Malcolm Penn-Leith.
How she adored him!
Unfortunately, the realization was one incident too many.
Kendall’s pressure and her own fears for her future.
Her long walk taken much too quickly.
Malcolm’s kind words and patient understanding.
The longings of her own heart.
