“That is already too much. What did you do then?”
“I hurried home. Once there, I was sure I’d imagined the saw marks, out of sorts as I was at the time.” She paused to smooth back her hair. “Even so, I went back the next morning. Men were already gathering the fallen planks and working to repair the bridge.”
“You didn’t see any damaged wood?”
“No.”
“Did you look everywhere?”
“Of course.” She sounded certain.
His nape prickled all the same.
“Can it be, lass, that someone removed the cut planks?” He didn’t want to frighten her, but the ancient warrior in him had wakened, demanding answers. “Did you think about such a possibility? Who sent the workmen to the footbridge? Your stepmother?”
“She did. And, yes, I wondered if someone took away the one or two suspicious-looking planks.” Her eyes lit for a moment and she lifted her chin. “Scots aren’t just impatient,” she said. “They’re also suspicious. That trait, too, I inherited from my mother.”
Lucian smiled.
“We’re also braw. Brave,” he added, should she not know the word. “So I’m betting you confronted your stepmother about the missing planks?”
“I did.”
He lifted a brow. “And?”
“She said such tampering was preposterous. And that if any planks were missing, they would have been swept away by the rain-swollen river.”
Lucian released her and stepped back, his mind racing as he paced the little room and then returned to her.
“Lass…” he began, then cleared his throat. “Lady Melissa-”
She touched his arm. “I do like lass.”
“You would,” he said, and his heart thumped.
“It’s Scottish,” she returned, the two words doing more damage than any saw could do to wood.
He set his hands on her shoulders this time, then thought better of it and cast all gallantry to the wind as he slid his arms around her and pulled her to him.
She gasped, but made no effort to break away, so he ran one hand up and down her back, then threaded the fingers of his other hand in her hair. He should feel guilt, but he didn’t. He only wanted to lend her his warmth and strength, to protect her from harm.
“Precious lass.” He drew back and lifted his hands to frame her face. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, tucked her hair behind her ears.
What he really wanted was to clutch her to him and kiss her deeply. Instead, he took a long breath, and readied himself to follow his gut...
“Will you trust me?”
She nodded. “Logic says I shouldn’t, not yet anyway. But I do.”
“That’s good because I’ve made a decision, and I’d like your agreement.”
“About going to Scotland with you?” She looked up at him, her cheeks a bit flushed. “I already agreed. Have you forgotten?”
“Nae, but I wasn’t sure you were serious.”
“Were you?”
I am now.
