He turned abruptly and grinned. “No. You mustn’t apologize to me. No wrong has been done.”
“I am happy to hear it,” she said, relieved.
“And I am happy to hear your voice for the first time.” His fingers traced the line of her jaw, pausing by her ear. “You are as familiar to me as the dear memories of my father and mother and this beautiful country.”
No one had ever said something so endearing to her, so romantic. “You do not miss America?”
His gaze scanned the distant mountains and woods. “No. Every day I longed for the Highlands. For the natural splendor that exists in every direction I look. The smells and sounds of this place…”
This time Rosie reached out and captured his hand. Their connection to each other was undeniable, that much she knew. “I am happy this place brings you so much joy. I never wish to leave.”
“Then you will be pleased to know I have chosen Belware Manor as our home.”
“Belware Manor,” she repeated. “A picturesque place if ever I saw one. Though my uncle thought you would choose your father’s estate as our main place of residence.”
“I am inspired to start afresh, to leave old, painful memories behind. I will give you the manor house as a wedding gift.”
His generosity pleased her, but it was unnecessary, for the wedding contract had provided a lavish living for her, keeping her personal funds independent of her future husband’s. She and Seth shared more than dreams and a future; they had both lost their parents, Seth’s mother having died recently of an illness in America, binding their hearts not only in matrimony but sorrow, too. “Belware Manor is haunted,” she said in a jesting tone, but serious in her intention to let him know the truth about Belware.
He immediately chuckled, his eyes bright with merriment. “You are not the first to warn me about such things, my sweet Lady Rosalind.”
“Do you doubt me?”
“Of course not,” he said convincingly, but there was still a gleam in his eyes. “But I believe you and everyone in this village are superstitious—raised to fear every little thing that goes bump in the night. I find it rather endearing.”
Rosalind bit her bottom lip to keep from saying something she’d regret later. She and the wonderful people of Belware were not fools. This ancient place possessed many secrets outsiders would never understand or even have the privilege of being exposed to. But Seth… he was caught between two existences, quite literally the old world and new world. Scotland and America. His birthright versus the place he was forced to flee to after his father died. This gave him a right to know the traditions of his birthplace, but would he respect those secrets?
“I have more news,” he said, dragging her from her thoughts.
“Oh?”
“As I am sure the earl told you, I wish to take our vows at the stroke of midnight on Summer’s End at the manor house.”
“Blessed saints,” she said. “This cannot be done.”
“Why not? I have the special license in my pocket. As is the tradition of the Baron of Belware, I have invited everyone from the village, and my barrister has made the necessary arrangements to bring a chief vicar from London to oversee our nuptials. The only elements missing from these plans are the bride and groom.” He smiled hungrily at her. “After all, my sweet Rosalind, I am no different than any man. I want to hold you in my arms and…”
He tugged her into an intimate embrace, nuzzling her neck, his warm breath raising goosebumps all over her body, her very reactive body. She gently pulled away from him, the hope of influencing him to change his mind about their wedding date, lost. She would have to rely on her uncle and the men of the village to get him drunk and keep him from arriving on time for their ceremony. Otherwise…
“What is everyone afraid of?” he asked.
“Shall we take a stroll while we talk?” she suggested.
He offered his arm, and she took it. “Of course.”
“Centuries ago, when this place was little more than a pile of ash and stones…”
He gazed at her with what appeared to be admiration. “You are a storyteller, too?”
“What Scot is not?” she said playfully.
“There is that.”
“Centuries ago, when this place was little more than a pile of ash and stones,” she began again, “a tribe of beautiful women settled here. Some say they came from the land of the Vikings, crossed the North Sea to find a new life—to find grace and hope away from a brutal place filled with violence and sorrow. But their newfound happiness was short-lived. For the men of this place heard of their great beauty and intelligence and wanted to take these women as wives.
“I see nothing unnatural about this…”
“Except that these women had sworn an oath to their goddess to never marry in exchange for her favor and protection.”
