’Twas nothing, he reminded himself. Hadnae he helped her get them on, in the first place? And hadnae he seen lots of tourists on Culloden Moor, dressed in far less?
Aye, but he hadnae traced their curves nor felt the softness of their skin.
With Kenna balanced on the tub’s edge, he knelt, splitting his attention between making sure she wasnae going to fall, and his efforts to work the jeans past the torn flesh on her knees. Sweat pearled on his forehead and when finally, he worked the last of the fabric past her ankles and her legs were free, he breathed a sigh of relief.
Realizing how close he was to her very long, very shapely, verybarelegs, he scrambled awkwardly to his feet in the tiny room that suddenly felt even smaller.
“Are ye still dizzy?” he managed, fixing his gaze on a crack in the wall.
“Nae. ’Tis better, thank ye, but may I ask one more favor?”
This time he couldnae suppress his groan.Nae! He couldnae take more!Besides ’twas naught left but her OWEN’S BAKERY shirt and he’d no’ be removin’ that! She’d havetae bathe in it, if she couldnae manage it on her own.
“Sean?”
When he looked at her, she stared up at him with her wide emerald eyes full of expectation. Supplication.
“What favor would ye have?” He winced at the gruffness in his voice. Could she be so naïve as to no’ realize the effect she had on him? She mustnae ask more of him. ’Twas too much!
“Would ye mind turning on the water before ye go?”
Relief nearly buckled his knees as shame filled his chest. He’d acted a fool and he kenned she was just as aware of it as he. But he found no censure or mockery in her pretty face. “Aye, lass. O’course.” He reached past her, turned the knobs and adjusted the water temperature as he’d learned to do at Wickham’s. “Shall I stay tae turn it off?”
“I’ll try tae do it. If I cannae, I’ll call ye.” Her brows dipped in uncertainty. “Yewillwait in the living room? I still owe ye a meal tae thank ye properly.”
“Aye lass.” He held her gaze for several seconds. “I’ll wait.”
Probably forever, if ye’d but ask it of me.
Chapter Six
Sean closed the bathroom door, dazed by the jumble of conflicting emotions swirling inside him. He needed fresh air and open sky, free of the heady distraction Kenna Kincaid had become. She complicated his clear-cut plans, though no’ by her own design. She’d made her feelings clear about no’ needing or wanting him around, beyond the promised meal. A debt to be paid. Nothing more.
If only he wasnae so inexplicably drawn to her. ’Twould make leaving her a lot harder. But leave, he must.
He glanced around her narrow and extremely tidy bedroom. ’Twas no’ a lot here that spoke of Kenna. No’ any of the little personal items one would expect a woman to have. No’ that he had much experience in such things, but he’d noticed some of the feminine fripperies Wickham's wife had in their home.
Kenna did say she was newly arrived, however, and that she wished to go back home, so living here was likely as temporary as it appeared. But why come all this way, just to turn around and go back? And what was thethingshe had to do before she could return home? Did it have anything to do with whatever she'd lost at the outer kirk wall?
So many questions.
After hearing the water trickle to a stop, Sean returned to the living room, hoping Kenna was finding relief in the warm water.
He wandered to the wide window overlooking the main street of the village. Along the walkway, flowers erupted from huge pots in explosive colors and people walked, waved, and chatted with one another as they moved in and out of the shops.
A pretty town.Vibrant. From the muted sounds to the colors, to the friendly energy he was sure he’d find on the street. Though small, ’twas still exciting to see after so many years trapped on the moor.
What would it be like to belong to arealcommunity? To build relationships and share talents in a place where the inhabitants had a future? No’ like The 79 and the stagnant centuries on the moor where naught changed but the seasons. Aye, Kenna’s village seemed a place where one could thrive and be proud to call home.
The knock on the door might as well have been a cannon. Sean took several deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. Kenna hadnae mentioned the possibility of someone coming.
Cautiously, he opened the door and came face-to-face with an older gentleman whose broad smile quickly faded. His face turned hard. Suspicious. “I'm looking for Kenna.” He peered around Sean as if he might be holding her captive before coming back to him with a puckered brow and steely gaze. “And ye’d be…?”
“Sean McCulloch.” Sean held out his hand. A few seconds passed before the man gave it a cautious shake. “I've just brought Kenna home,” Sean continued. “I fear she suffered a slight injury at the kirk.”
Despite his years, the man pushed past Sean with more strength than Sean would have credited him with. “Kenna?” he yelled. “Where are ye? What's happened? Are ye okay, lass?” He strode to the bedroom door, then beyond. “Kenna!”
“Owen? Is that you?” Kenna’s muffled voice filtered into the room.
