Like a cipher she walked to the gate. She grabbed the iron bars so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She rattled the gates hard and pulled and yanked on them again and again.
Her stomach rose and felt as if it were stuck in her throat. Her breaths were sharp because she couldn’t seem to get any air. She kept shaking the gates and shaking them, over and over, as if by doing so she could somehow shake off the terror she was beginning to feel.
Sweat dripped down her temples and beaded on her upper lip. She couldn’t let go of the gates. She couldn’t will her hands to work. She leaned her head against the cool bars for a moment, then felt his big hands on her shoulders.
“George?”
“Leave me alone!” She shook off his hands and twisted away from him, running around the walls to the side and back gates, rattling them one after another, half-hoping even one of them would be open.
Every single one of them was locked with big thick chains and heavy locks. She stood there for eternal minutes, staring through grates at the leaf-strewn gardens at the back of the house. She felt as if she were in jail, looking out on the world she wanted to be a part of.
With her fists clenched tightly in frustration, she spun around and stomped back toward the wagon.
“What the hell happened? How could someone foreclose? You weren’t gone that long.”
“My brother lost everything before he died. I knew I didn’t have much time. I had to marry someone rich and marry him quickly.”
The MacOaf stood there looking as if he was feeling sorry for her.
“Don’t you dare,” she said through her teeth.
“What?”
“Don’t you dare feel sorry for me or, so help me God, I’ll hit you harder than Calum did. I can take your belligerence. I can take your smart mouth and goading. I can even take your manhandling, but I can’t take your pity. And I won’t, Eachann MacLachlan. Do you understand?”
His look changed immediately. He gave her a quick and perfectly serious nod.
“Good. Now come with me.” She grabbed his hammy hand and pulled him along with her while she hurried back along the wall. “Might as well put all that brawn of yours to a good use.”
She stopped at the back side of the estate. “Give me a foot up.”
“You’re going to go inside? The sign said No Trespassing.”
She slowly turned and faced him, scowling. “You’re worried about trespassing? This from a man who kidnapped me?”
He had the good sense to look chagrined. It was a first.
“Yes, I’m going to go insidemyhouse and change intomyclothes.”
“Look, George—”
“Shut up, MacOaf, and give me a boost.”
He shrugged, locked his fingers together, and held them out so she could stand in his cupped hands. A moment later she was sitting on top of the wall.
Before she could jump down he had pulled himself up and was sitting alongside of her.
She gave him a dirty look. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
He acted like she hadn’t spoken and jumped down from the top of the wall as easily as he’d gotten up there, which annoyed her to no end. It was a long way down.
He held out his arms. “Jump, George.”
She jumped and he caught her, using his chest to break her fall. He held her a second or two longer than necessary, their bodies pressed intimately together, their faces inches apart, her feet dangling in midair.
