Miss Hughes only nodded, still shivering. After taking several tentative steps forward, she grasped his hand.
His warm palm closed around her slender, icy fingers. And though he knew there was nothing in it, that she had only taken his hand to keep her balance, he couldn’t deny the surge of attraction he felt for her.
Nor could he resist trying to make her blush again. “And was it worth it, Miss Hughes?”
She looked up, confusion clouding her gaze. “Was what worth it?”
Gavin steadied her as she stepped up onto the bank. “That kiss. ’Twill be a long summer.”
She pulled her hand away, scowling.
He shook his head. “That’s a right shame. The next time ye are kissed...” He raised his brows suggestively. “I can only hope the man makes it worth your while.”
Her cheeks bloomed with color. “There won’tbeany more kissing, Mr. McKenzie,” she retorted, stomping toward the tree where Baird was tethered. “My parents will make certain of that.”
“No more kissing?” he called after her. “Evenafterye marry? I’d like tae ken how they intend—”
Miss Hughes stopped beside Baird, her back to Gavin, and spoke through clenched teeth. “Be flippant if you will, but you’d likely not find the matter so amusing if you were a woman—with no rights of your own, and parents determined to choose every step of your life’s path.”
Gavin stayed silent for several seconds, surprised at the pain in her admission. He stepped up behind her, releasing a long breath. “And what path would ye take, Miss Hughes? If ye could choose for yourself?”
AND WHAT PATH would ye take, Miss Hughes? If ye could choose for yourself?
The question was so surprising, so unexpected, that it stunned Arabella into silence.
Because the truth was that she’d never truly taken the time to consider what she wanted.
What was the point, when she’d never be free to pursue it?
When it could only mean disappointment?
The horse nickered, sniffing at her.
Arabella turned, coming to face Mr. McKenzie. Her voice was smaller than she would have liked when she answered him. “How could I know when I have never been given the luxury of such a choice?”
He looked at her then, and there was something rough and jagged in his gaze, something discerning that seemed to slash through her defenses, as if by a mere look he could unlock the secrets inside her.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered, “that I’ll go through an entire lifetime having all my choices made for me. First by my parents and then by the husband they choose for me. And I’ll die an old woman, one who never knew who she truly was or what she wanted.”
It was, perhaps, the most honest thing she’d ever said.
The space between them seemed to contract.
She froze as Mr. McKenzie settled his hands on her waist. Her breaths grew shallow. He looked down at her, brow creased. She softened a little under his gaze. She couldn’t help it when he looked at her that way, almost as if he were going to...
And then he was lifting her, up, up, as if she weighed nothing more than the breeze. He settled her in the saddle before releasing her. Arabella bit her lip, hating herself for the thud of disappointment that echoed through her. She grabbed for the reins, needing something, anything to hold on to.
Mr. McKenzie looked up at her and shook his head. “So I ask ye again. What is it yewant?”
He was a man who wouldn’t tolerate platitudes. Who wouldn’t accept a lie. Who, for some inexplicable reason, seemed hungry for the truth. Her truth.
An ache grew in Arabella’s center, pulsing like the throb of a finger after a cut.
What did she want?
What did shewant?
“I want time, Mr. McKenzie,” she said finally. “Time on my own, where I can learn my own mind. Where I can figure out who I am without the influence of my parents.”
