“But I should come with you,” Izzie protested.
“I should return to camp,” Randolph said at the same time.
“It’s best if I do this alone,” Elizabeth said meaningfully. She gave her cousin a look that pleaded for agreement.Please.
Izzie returned the look with one that said she was going to owe her—a lot—but she’d no doubt suspected the source of Elizabeth’s dilemma. “I would love to see this rock formation, if you would show it to me, my lord.”
Randolph could do nothing but agree. He looked at her cousin for a long moment and then gave her a short nod. “We should not delay; it will be dark soon.”
Elizabeth exhaled slowly as the two walked off. It was hard to say between both of them who appeared less eager.
“Thank you for doing this for me, Ella. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble with Randolph.”
There was something about the way Joanna said it, however, that made Elizabeth think her sister-in-law wasn’t bothered by the idea at all, and indeed might even be happy if this project for Jamie caused plenty of trouble with Randolph and pushed her toward Thommy.
Her eyes narrowed. Was that what this was about? Was this sword just another of Joanna’s attempts to push them together?
If so, she had to admit, it had worked. Elizabeth was fully involved; she couldn’t wait to see how the sword turned out.
“It was my fault, I forgot about our ride today,” she said.
Fortunately, Joanna chose not to comment about that—although much could be said. Instead, she frowned pensively, watching a stiff-backed, tensed-shoulders Randolph lead away an unusually morose Izzie. “Do you think...” Her voice dropped off, and she shook her head. “Never mind.”
Elizabeth was too distracted to follow up on it. “I hope Randolph doesn’t question your man waiting in the stables.”
Joanna shrugged. “Even if he does, it won’t matter. You are running an errand for me. I did not speak an untruth.”
No, but she certainly had left out a few salient details.
Fortunately, there was nothing to worry about. Elizabeth’s “escape” from the abbey went smoothly, and a short while later she was pushing open the door of the forge.
She’d forgotten the blast of heat, the smoke, and the smell of burning metal, but the memories hit her the moment she entered.
Thommy was already hard at work and didn’t immediately hear her come in, giving her time to observe him as he pulled the red-hot blade blank from the forge and set it upon the anvil to hammer.
She felt a wave of powerful emotions pulling her down a path of bittersweet longing for a time when life was far less complicated. When a friendship between the lord’s daughter and the smithy’s son didn’t matter.
Her heart squeezed. How many times had she come on something like this before? How many times had she come bursting into the forge excited to tell him something? Excited to see him?
So many things had changed, but in that one fundamental respect she was forced to admit they hadn’t. She was still excited to talk to him and still excited to see him. Far more so than she’d ever been with anyone else, and far more so than she should be.
If anything, the childhood memories paled in comparison to what she felt now. For now her feelings were complicated by other reasons for excitement. Like noticing the way the linen of his shirt stretched over broad shoulders and powerfully muscled arms as he hammered the hot metal, or noticing the damp tendrils of dark hair at his temple or the bead of sweat running down the hard lines of his cheek and jaw. Or noticing how the wide mouth that had kissed her so tenderly was pressed in a taut line of concentration as he worked.
As a girl, she’d been unaware of the primitive appeal of a tall, handsome, powerfully muscled man who was hot with sweat swinging a hammer before a fire. But she was aware of it now—achingly, painstakingly,rousinglyaware of it.
Why was she here? Why was she putting herself in temptation’s grasp?
She might have turned around had he not looked up and noticed her. The boyishly happy smile that curved his mouth prevented her from doing anything other than just stand there and stare at him with her breath firmly locked in her chest.
He put down the hammer, removed one of the leather gauntlets he wore to protect his hands from the fire, and wiped the back of his hand over his forehead. “That was fast. Finished with the drawing already?”
Elizabeth’s mouth quirked. “Aye, well, I wanted to get it to you before you messed anything up.”
He laughed and crossed the room to stand beside her. The forge wasn’t a large building, and with him standing next to her, it suddenly felt even smaller. He was so blastedly big! The fire that powered the furnace seemed to grow even hotter. She could smell the heat of his body, but it was not an unpleasant scent. Rather the opposite. The faint hint of muskiness brought a sensual edge to the heather from his soap.
“Let’s see what you’ve come up with,” he said easily, having no idea of the havoc he was wreaking on her senses—or her pulse for that matter. It seemed to have shot up through her throat.
She pulled out the drawing and handed it to him, feeling unaccountably anxious all of a sudden. She wanted him to like it, she realized.
