He paused, turning towards her. She stopped too, looking up at him. They were a good few paces ahead of the others, who trudged on towards them, heads bowed under the weight of the rain. Senga, however, turned her face up towards Noah, not caring that the drops pattered against her face, catching on her eyelashes and running down her cheeks like tears.
“I’d thought long and hard about it,” Noah murmured, his gaze fixed on her.
A drop of water hung on the end of the eyelashes on his right eye, glimmering for a moment before releasing and disappearing.
“One doesn’t kiss a laird’s daughter on a whim. In hindsight, I should have been more afraid. But I was like ye then, afraid of nothing.”
“Perhaps it wasn’t good for us,” she murmured. “Fear keeps a person alive, after all.”
“Aye, perhaps so. But fear would have stopped me from kissing ye that afternoon in the stables, and I would not have missed that for the world.”
He reached out, fingers trailing warmly against her cheek as he tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear. In an instant, Senga was not a grown woman on a miserable road in the rain, living in danger. No, she was a gawky teenage girl again, staring adoringly up at a coltish stable lad who smelled of horses and freedom.
“If I had a house and land for horses, would ye come live there with me? One day?” Noah whispered, quoting the words he’d said to her so long ago.
Senga closed her eyes, letting his voice ring in her head.
“Aye,” she responded, her voice hoarse and a little afraid, nothing at all like her eager, earnest answer of years ago. “Aye, I think I would.”
Wordlessly, Noah leaned down and kissed her, his lips slick with rainwater and thrillingly cool. There was no time for anything more, not with their fellow travelers catching up quickly, but when he pulled back, he caught her eye and gave a sad, twisted smile.
“Yer lips are as sweet as I remember. Rain be damned.”
She gave a huff of laughter. “This dream house of yers, then. Could it ever become real?”
The smile faded. “The house and land and room for horses, ye mean?”
“Aye, I do.”
He let his hand drop, glancing away. “I was an idealistic fool, thinking that that was all I needed to offer a lass like ye.”
“A lass like me? What do ye mean? I’m nobody now.”
He shook his head, eyes suddenly distant. “I don’t like to speak of the future. Nor the past. The dead are buried with the past, and it’s bad luck to unearth either of them.”
Senga blinked rainwater out of her eyes, suddenly deflating. “Have I said something wrong?”
He shook his head, water drops flying off from the ends of his hair.
“Wrong? No, no, lass. Forgive me, I just… I’ve been so used to avoiding dreams of my future. In my opinion, that’s a fair way to disappoint oneself. Ye can talk of the past and the future all ye like, but the plain fact is that we only have the present. All we have now is now. And speaking of now, we had better start walking if we are ever to make it back to Keep Grahame in time. I don’t want us to be left behind.”
The moment was gone, then. The rain began to fall more heavily, pattering down and bouncing off the ground. It didn’tmake Senga feel any wetter, but she did begin to feel colder, fighting the urge to pull her sodden cloak more tightly around her.
People moved past them, barely sparing them a glimpse. They were only thinking of getting to somewhere dry and warm, with dry clothes and food of some description.
Noah was right—this wasn’t the time to discuss the future, not by a long shot.
“Aye, I think ye are right,” she answered, smiling tightly. “I suppose we should pick up the pace if we want to reach safety by nightfall.”
Noah gave her a sad smile, as if he knew what she was thinking.
“Then let’s go, lassie. Less talking and more walking, that’s what I say.”
Chapter 11
Silence Is A Waste Of Time
The sight of Grahame Keep, its towers looming out of the mist, filled Senga with such relief that her knees nearly buckled. A murmur ran through the rest of the crowd, and she imagined that her relief was shared.
