Swallowing his disappointment, Ethan slowly dressed in his customary kilt and retreated to the library just off the entry hall. Standing at the window, he watched footmen and grooms haul trunks out the massive front doors of Muirford House.
All the while, attempting to breathe through the sting lashing his chest.
Allie had left without saying goodbye. He had scarcely done more than greet her in passing over the past few days.
Had his words that morning on the stairs truly overset her? Had she so resoundingly rejected his suggestion that she seize joy and happiness that she couldn’t bring herself to speak with him again?
Was this how their brief friendship ended?
The sheer depth of his hurt surprised him. Allie’s departure pricked him like . . . like . . .
The first stanza of the poem he had written to encapsulate Malcolm’s grief after the death of his first wife, Aileen, hummed through Ethan’s brain:
I bear with me always a weight.
It rests, a heavy knot of stone
Upon my neck, sinking down straight
Into the memory of you now gone.
Aye. That fair summed up his mood.
Obviously losing Allie was hardly as ghastly as Malcolm losing his Aileen, but Ethan’s sense of grief was still acute.
How had his weeladraensconced herself in his heart so quickly?
The woman was a menace . . . which thought made him smile and mourn in equal measure.
“Madonna mia,” a familiar, sultry voice said behind him. “You look as if someone has kicked your puppy. Or, perhaps, youarethe puppy.”
Ethan let out a yelp of surprise . . . in keeping with the metaphor, he supposed.
He whirled to find Allie standing behind him. Dressed in a sprigged muslin day-dress of reds and blues, she appeared a spring vision . . . one come to shine on the gray that had overtaken him.
It took all of Ethan’s control not to sweep her into an overly-exuberant hug.
“I can see why you enjoy startling me so,” she continued, an impish light in her eyes. “It’s a thrill to hear you squeal like a small child.”
Ethan gave her his best mock-affronted look.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Allegra,” he said in affected aristocratic tones. “A grown gentleman never squeals.”
She laughed and the sound replaced the thump of blood in his veins with effervescing champagne.
“You be here, lass,” he said, nodding toward the carriages lined up and down the drive, “but I am quite certain your brother is not. He left hours ago.”
“Yes, well, theSS Statesmanneeded to sail with the morning tide.”
“And ye were a lazy slug-a-bed?”
“Tush!” She tossed her head. “It is rather that Lady Isolde took pity and offered me a bedchamber for a while longer.”
“And Kendall permitted ye tae stay?”
Allie shrugged. “Yes, well . . . I can’t say I gave my ducal brother much choice in the matter.”
“Did ye stay solely tae spite Kendall, then?” Ethan asked, folding his arms. “Or might there have been other considerations?” And how he hoped there were.
