His chest expanded and contracted quickly, almost unnaturally. Even from a distance, Faith could see his eyes wereshut tightly, and his mouth was closed, his entire face pained. Was he ill? His hair, which wasn’t dark enough to be considered brown nor light enough to be called blond, was tousled by the wind as his tall form seemed to rattle with ragged breath.
Tilting her head with curiosity, Faith watched, waiting for him to settle. It was clear he was trying to calm himself down from whatever annoyance he had been struggling with, but the longer she watched him, the more his face scrunched up, almost as if he was fighting some internal battle.
A small part of her worried that he might be seriously ill or hurt. While Faith wasn’t particularly interested in Mr. Harris’s well-being, a small, decent part of her told her that if a person were in distress, she should try to help him. By the look on his face, she could see that he wasn’t doing well, and as much as it grated her to consider helping him, something propelled her forward.
Faith took a step forward without looking down and stepped on a stick.
SNAP!
The massive, blackish-gray dog turned his head instantly.Shoot.
Now it would undoubtedly appear as though she had been spying on him. Sure enough, when she glanced back up, Logan stared in her direction as the large animal began sauntering toward her, growling with its teeth bared.
Dread splinted within Faith’s chest. She didn’t like big dogs. She’d had the misfortune of being bitten by a neighbor’s dog in her youth and had tried to avoid them ever since. She strained to recall what Grace had told her about dogs. They could sense fear, supposedly, and responded aggressively if they felt you were closing in on them. If she remained still, she should be fine.
Squaring her shoulders, she spoke loudly.
“M-Mr. Harris,” she called out. “Please restrain your animal. I’ve no wish to be mauled this morning.”
For a moment, she worried that he might not have heard her, for the dog continued to amble toward her in a predatory way. Surely he wouldn’t let the dog attack, would he?
“Heel, Jaco,” he said after a moment, and the dog instantly sat, though he kept his eyes on Faith.
Faith took a bracing breath and walked straight ahead, though she kept a fair distance between herself and the animal. Coming to a stop only a few feet away from the water’s edge, she nodded politely, noting that his breathing had returned to normal. Since he clearly did not need assistance, she saw no reason to mention his earlier state.
“I’m sorry to have interrupted your fishing expedition,” she said. “May I ask what you are doing on this side of the loch?”
“No, you may not,” he said stiffly as he stared back at her, his hazel eyes locked on her face.
She glared at him. What an awful man, indeed.
Well, that’s what she got for trying to be neighborly. Her mouth set in a hard line as she gazed into his oval-shaped face. His straight, thick eyebrows were darker than the rest of his hair, making it easy to spot even from a distance when his perpetual scowl deepened. Faith had often noted that his evenly proportioned mouth was usually pointed down when they met, as if he couldn’t help but frown whenever he saw her.
He was attractive in a classical way, which made Faith’s dislike for him all the more potent. If he had been ugly or scarred, she might have forgiven his poor manners and ill temper, but to be handsome in the most apparent way left little charity in her opinion of him. Still, she had to remind herself she wasn’t attracted to the discourteous Scotsman.
“Very well then,” she said as she gathered her skirts to move around him. She would continue her walk north around theeastern shore of the loch and wait somewhere until he left before making her way back home. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“What are you doing out here so early? And alone?” he asked, causing her to stop.
“It’s no concern of yours,” she said, giving him a taste of his own medicine.
He took a step toward her.
“A lady, however imprudent,” he said, “shouldn’t be walking around alone at this hour of the day.”
“Why? Will one of your kelpies steal me away?” she asked sarcastically, referring to the local legend. Though her sisters had found the locals’ folk stories charming, Faith did not. “Keep your fairytales to yourself, Mr. Harris. I have a practical mind.”
“And yet you wear no overcoat or wrap during a storm.”
“What storm?”
As if by divine intervention, the skies above opened up as a torrential downpour opened over them. The self-satisfied smirk on the man’s face made her want to stomp her foot, but instead, she stuck out her chin.
“A light drizzle will not deter me,” she said as a crack of thunder sounded in the distance.
Amusement flashed in his eyes, and Faith had to fight off the irrational bemusement she felt as he gazed at her.
“Come,” he said, walking toward her. “I’ll see you back to Lismore.”
