She smiled at him. “I am sure anyone with half his wits could guess it was ye on the platform.”
“Aye?” He took the hood off, tucking it under his heavy, wool tartan. He shook his hair out, the wild red shoulder-length lochs holding her attention like a thriving fire.
The contrast between his hair color and blue eyes was startling.
“How did ye know?” he asked.
“Yer mannerisms and the way ye walk.”
“Ye’re an observant lass.”
“I’ve learned to pay attention to everything around me.”
Jamie rubbed his chin. “Life at Dunrobin wasna easy.”
She shook her head. “My life doesna matter, Master Jamie. Not when there are so many innocent people suffering in the Highlands. I have traveled some and seen what starvation and war do to people. Women and children without homes, begging for food and shelter.”
“Did yer sire open his gates for them?”
Ashamed of the truth, she turned away.
But the handsome warrior moved closer, tipping her face up. “Doona hide anything from me, Lady Helen. I willna judge ye for the sins of yer father.”
Their gazes held, and she saw the heat behind his eyes—the desire she’d seen that first night when they looked at each other in silence across the great hall. The heat of their mutual attraction was burning a hole in her soul. She dinna possess the same abilities as her brothers, cool liars that they were. Her feelings were obvious, whether happy or sad—no matter how hard she tried to conceal them—and she imagined passion would show even more.
Miran had commented on how obvious her and Jamie’s attraction was—much to Helen’s disapproval, of course.
A noblewoman should never reveal her deepest emotions. Not in public, and especially not to a man. Only God could purge her of such sinful thoughts. Perhaps she should walk away and go to her bedchamber, fall to her knees, and pray for forgiveness.
“What are ye thinking, lass?”
She turned back to him. “My father shows little charity to those in need. Only when it benefits him.” Tired of standing, she chose a flat-topped boulder to sit on, brushing inches of snow away before she positioned herself comfortably, bending her legs, then resting her chin atop her knees. “It seems the more a man has, the less generous his spirit.”
“The clans who struggle the most understand what suffering means. They doona want others to live the way they have, even if it only means sharing a hearth and a meager meal of bread and water. Nothing hurts more than an empty stomach.”
“I havena suffered that way.”
“Nor should ye,” he offered, once again studying her face. “Somehow I guess ye found a way to feed the poor.”
“With the help of Cook and some of the more compassionate maids, aye. We’d store food and venture out a couple of times a month and visit the poorest crofters or the sick and dying.”
“Then why do ye hide yer face in shame, Lady Helen?”
“Tis embarrassment for my family. I have three brothers, and all of them are as selfish as my father, maybe more so.”
“Ye canna pick yer family, lass, but ye can strive to make yer future better.”
She laughed softly. “Spoken as only a man can declare.”
His eyebrows arched in curiosity. “And how would a woman speak of such things?”
She fidgeted with her cloak, hiding her hands in the folds of the thick fur. “Everyone within these walls has told me the same thing. That my future is of my own choosing.”
“Then perhaps there is wisdom in it.”
“The MacKays are very different from the Sutherlands, Master Jamie.” She stared across the half-frozen loch, watching as a couple of birds swooped and then landed on the ice, possibly searching for fish to eat. “I’ve wished for it every night that I’ve been here. Especially after seeing how contented Keely is.” She hid her face again, swiping a tear from her eye.
Jamie immediately went to her, making soothing noises and caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. “I dinna mean to upset ye, Lady Helen. I only want ye…” He grew quiet.
