Her jaw tightened. “No, Mr. McKenzie, I cannot.”
“Then I feel sorry for ye, Miss Hughes.” He shook his head.
“I do not want your pity. I do not need it.” She sounded childish, she knew. She felt childish. As if she were throwing a favorite toy on the ground just to prove a point.
He stepped onto the stair above where she stood. “Very well, then. Ye do not want my pity. Might I at least offer ye a word of advice?”
“I’ve no interest in your advice.”
“Your grandmother is a fine woman,” he said, ignoring her. “The very best. Do not let whatever your parents told ye keep ye from spending time with her and getting tae know her. Ye only have one summer here. Ye might as well make the best of—”
Arabella refused to listen to another word. She turned to go.
He set a soft hand on her arm. “Miss Hughes—”
She spun around and wrenched back her elbow to pull herself free from his grip. But, already realizing his mistake, he’d released her, and the motion only caused her to lose her balance. Her arms flailed, stomach dipping as she wobbled. She balanced precariously on the edge of the step, a hair’s breadth away from dropping toward the rocky shores below.
And then Arabella felt herself falling, tumbling backward—
Quick as a flash, Mr. McKenzie caught her about the waist and pulled her against him. Cheek pressed against his chest, she inhaled deeply, the air seeping into her lungs, cool and sweet. She held to him tightly, the wall of his chest like a shield.
It was a long moment before Arabella was aware of anything besides being blessedly, unexpectedly alive.
Alive.
When she could so easily have . . .
She turned her head, staring at the sheer drop of the cliffside.
Mouth agape, she shuddered, the shock of it splintering through her.
It was then that she saw her shawl. It must have come loose in the struggle, snatched away by the strong coastal breeze. She and Mr. McKenzie both stood, transfixed, their breaths coming hard.
Neither moved as they watched the shawl’s slow butsteady descent. It fluttered in the air for several seconds before being whisked away, pulled and pushed by the invisible hands of the wind until it finally landed on the rocks below.
“Are ye all right?” Mr. McKenzie murmured, his lips close to her ear.
Arabella’s entire body was trembling, her pulse thudding in her ears. “I...I think so.”
“I blame myself. I should have insisted we finish this conversation somewhere else. These steps are dangerous, even when one is taking the greatest heed.”
She swallowed, willing her heart to slow. Willing herself to step out of the comfort of Mr. McKenzie’s arms. Instead, she allowed herself to stay a moment longer, breathing in the masculine, windswept smell of him.
“Promise me ye’ll be careful on these steps,” he demanded. “Ye must go slow. Ye must take care.”
It was the authoritative note in his voice that made her remember herself and pull back.
He released her slowly, inspecting her as if to convince himself she was truly all right.
Once free of his embrace, Arabella’s frustration came flooding back. “Thank you, Mr. McKenzie, for your unsolicited advice. And now, I hope you’ll excuse me.”
He sighed. “Good day, Miss Hughes.”
Arabella felt his eyes on her as she continued down the stairs. Her steps were slower now. Cautious. But it wasn’t until she’d descended the last stair that Mr. McKenzie turned and left.
Alone at last, she heaved out a breath.
She stared out at the churning gray ocean, where wave after wave hammered the rocks. Her tartan shawl was nowhere in sight, likely already swept out to sea. The mood of the scene perfectly captured her feelings. Anger. Frustration. Helplessness.
