A sigh that told him of a world’s weight bearing down on her was her reply. He turned to her and waited for words. When none came, he spoke.
‘Has something happened? Have you received ill tidings mayhap?’
She shook her head and it created wondrous little waves that moved through her curls as she did. After a moment, she slid her legs down and let her feet rest on the ground. The urge to reach out and touch her grew stronger.
‘I fear I am allowing self-pity to overtake me,’ she explained. Then she reached up and gathered her hair back over her shoulders. ‘It will pass.’
Although drawn to the way her hair moved around her as she did, Alan knew she was lying. Somehow he knew she was avoiding whatever had caused her upset. She did not have to reveal anything to him, but he found that he wanted to know what had brought on this upset.
‘Did someone say something unkind?’ he asked. He slid his hand across the bench to where her hair pooled and touched it, hoping the darkness covered his movement. It was as silky as it appeared.
‘Nothing like that. Everyone has been kind and helpful. Nay,’ she said, as she stood. He stood as well, releasing her hair from his grasp. She was much shorter than him, shorter even than Clara. She smiled then, a watery, weak one that faded quickly. ‘Actually I should feel complimented, but considering my status and my plans, it does not feel like that.’
Now, he was intrigued as well as concerned. ‘And this compliment was...?’
‘Dougal, the miller’s son,’ she began.
‘Aye. A good fellow.’
‘Dougal has decided to woo me.’
Chapter Ten
Of all the things she could have said, of all the things he’d considered that could have happened to make her so miserable, being wooed was not one of them. But at least her misery seemed to be tied to Dougal. Not that he himself was wooing her.
‘He kens you seek the convent’s walls, does he not?’
She nodded.
He’d never thought Dougal a stupid or stubborn man, yet wooing a woman promised to God was one or the other of those. But here he was, doing something that had not even crossed Alan’s mind. Not that he had not been attracted to her, for he had. Even knowing his uncle would make arrangements for his marriage had not made her unappealing or convinced him not to admire her.
‘Yet, he is wooing you?’
‘Aye. Even Jamie and Clara said so.’
‘And you did not know it?’ he asked.
‘Well, I have not been thinking on that possibility lately,’ she snapped at him. ‘Your pardon, I pray you. I was taken by surprise for a number of reasons.’
‘And his wooing made you cry?’
Alan swore he would never, ever comprehend the workings of the feminine mind. He thought women liked to be fawned over and complimented. He thought they liked soft words and gestures. She shook her head at him.
‘Nay, his kind attentions brought up other considerations and memories and I ended up out here trying to sort things out.’
‘You ended up out here crying.’
‘Aye. Sometimes, ’tis the only way to make sense of things.’
He reached out and took her hand, smiling when she did not refuse him the gesture. As he stroked her with his thumb, Alan tugged her a little closer. He suspected she did not even realise how close she was to him now.
‘Have you reconsidered entering the convent then? Do you wish to accept his attentions?’
He’d hesitated to ask that question, but he truly needed to know. Had she changed her mind about seeking the religious life? Had Dougal won her while Alan had been travelling hither and yon to his uncle and his father? Part of him did not like that possibility at all. Part of him wanted to take her and claim her and push any memories of Dougal’s wooing out of her thoughts. Another part of him...
Alan entwined their fingers and he leaned down. He would kiss her. He would taste her mouth and—
‘Alan, is that you?’ Jamie’s voice called out, interrupting before she could answer. Sadly, she pulled out of his grasp and moved too far away for him to kiss.
