“Oh dear, I don’t think you will get a wife that way.”
“Or I could tell her about the winter mornings when I awake and look out of my window, and the mist is a white veil over everything, so that the castle seems to be floating. Or the summer mornings when the sun is rising over the forest and the birds are just waking and singing their joy for the day ahead. Either way, ’tis a magical sight.”
Angus and Selina had wandered off some time ago, so they were alone. He took a peek toward Penelope and found her leaning back against the picnic basket, with an expression on herface he could not quite read. But she was listening, so he carried on.
“On the misty days, it is so quiet that I like to walk into the forest and stop and listen. Sometimes a bird will rustle in the bushes, or I will see the outline of a stag, and he is listening, too. My father does not allow hunting at Bonnyrigg. There used to be, but when he became duke, he stopped it altogether. When he first came to Bonnyrigg and met my mother, he was a gamekeeper, and part of his job was to care for the creatures on the estate. I think I would have made a good gamekeeper, too.”
“Don’t you want to be a duke?” Her voice was soft, curious.
He stared at the sky a moment more. “No, I never did. I told you how, when I found out I was going to be one, I ran away into the forest and hid. They found me, eventually. I’m still not sure I want to be a duke, but I have become resigned to it. I am the eldest son and the heir, and I will have to step into my father’s shoes when the time comes—hopefully that will not be for a long while.”
“That is why you need the right wife by your side,” Penelope said confidently. “Someone who knows what to do and what to say, and when. She can sit at your dinner table and make conversation, jumping in if there is an awkward pause, smoothing things over if things get heated. And all you would have to do is eat and drink and smile benignly.”
“It sounds perfect,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“Yes, it does.”
Callum closed his eyes. He wanted to look at her. He wanted to say things he knew he could not and which she would put a stop to. He wantedher.
He held out his hand, eyes still closed, and said, “Come here, Miss Armstrong, I need your help on a weighty matter.”
For a moment he thought she would refuse, or laugh at him, but then he heard the rustle of her clothing and she was at his side, her small hand warm in his.
“What weighty matter?” she said quietly. When he didn’t answer at once, she stroked his hair back from his brow, her fingers gentle, and then he felt her lie down beside him, resting her elbow on the blanket so that she could see down into his face. Her breath was warm against his lips.
“I am in need of your kisses,” he whispered.
She did not hesitate, but leaned in to kiss him, the lightest brush of her lips against his. He wanted to pull her down and kiss her properly, but it was so sweet that he lay there and let her explore his face with fingers and lips. She nuzzled his closed eyelids, and fluttered her lashes against his.
“Do you like this?” she said. “I used to tease Mortimer when he was a child.”
The sadness in her voice struck him to the heart. He did not like to think of her hurt and alone, not ever.
“Do you think he misses you?” he said.
She paused. “I don’t know. Every other time we have argued, I have gone to him and begged his forgiveness, even if it was not my fault, but this time... I am being strong. He must learn he cannot depend on me for everything and that he must respect me. I think until you spoke ofyoursister, it did not occur to me how little he thinks of my welfare and wellbeing. How selfish he has been for years. I think... Uncle Bertie’s influence has not been good for him, but I cannot blame my uncle entirely.”
“You are right to be strong. There have been occasions when my brother Rory and I have fallen out, and if it weren’t for my mother, we would probably never speak to each other again. Rory always believes himself right when he is obviously not. I long, one day, for someone to bring him down a peg or two.”
“But he is your brother and you love him,” she reminded him softly.
“Aye, but there are times when I do not like him.”
Her fingers were tickling his ear, and he reached to catch her hand, lifting it to his mouth. He sucked one finger inside, running his tongue over it, and she caught her breath. He felt the change in the air, the burn of desire, the ache of need. They had made love so many times during the past week, but it was never enough. He always wanted more.
Abruptly, he sat up and gazed around. “Haven’t Angus and Selina come back?”
She looked up at him with sleepy eyes, her cheeks flushed. At some point she had let her hair down, and now it fell in soft, silver waves about her face.
“They are still looking at the ruin.”
“How long do you think they will be?”
“I’m sure it will be long enough,” she said, and smiled.
He lay down on her, his hands already tangling in her hair, and kissed her properly. Soon he was tugging up her skirts, and she arched against him, making breathy sounds, and reached to undo the fastenings on his pantaloons. He was ready—he was always ready for her. And she was ready for him, wrapping her legs around his hips and holding him there. As if he would ever want to escape.
But what had started as another hurried, passionate encounter slowed down until it became something else. His kisses grew slow and deep, while her movements grew languid. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, breathing in his scent, and he smoothed her silky hair and bent to lathe his tongue over her throat.
