She nodded, her heart leaping in her chest, and she stole another glance over at Kiernan. Even a walk would be a chance for her to get to know him a little better. She would take anything she could get at this point, anything that would go some way to sating the curiosity that had built inside her chest.
“How gracious of ye, Gregory,” Kiernan remarked, a note of teasing to his voice. Gregory glowered at him.
“Dinnae give me a reason to change my mind,” he warned him, and he turned on his heel to head into the market and pick up a few of the bits and bobs he had been sent for.
Just like that, it was only the two of them. Mary looked up at Kiernan. This was the first time she had seen him in the light of day. He was a little older than her, near thirty to her twenty, if she had to guess, and the crinkles around his eyes deepened as he flashed her a smile. He offered her his arm, surprising her with his gentlemanly knowledge. She took it, and, for a moment, she had to steady herself as the strength of him, even beneath his rough robe, sent a throb of excitement through her body.
“There’s a pretty spot down by the river,” he remarked as he began to lead her. “And you’ll no’ be out of sight of yer nannies.”
“They’re not my nannies,” she fired back, a little more sharply than she had intended. He chuckled.
“I was only jestin’ on, lass,” he teased her. “No need to worry.”
He led her towards the edge of the market, where, sure enough, a river flowed between two verdant green banks. She felt herself soften as they drew closer to it. She had always loved the sound of running water, something about it casting a peaceful spell over her body.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” he remarked. She gripped his arm a little tighter. She wished, all of a sudden, that he was saying that about her, and not the water.
“Yes, it is.”
He chuckled, and she glanced up at him, another flood of redness coming to her cheeks.
“What? What is it?”
“Yer accent,” he remarked. “It’s… different.”
“And so you think you can laugh at me?”
He shrugged. Just behind them, in the market, a man tied up his horse so he could pick up some goods. The creature pawed at the ground and let out a snort, catching her attention. She turned, her eyes lighting up.
“Oh, isn’t she beautiful?” she breathed as she reached out to pet the horse’s neck. The animal was a deep chestnut brown, with a mane as dark as bark on an old oak tree. Her eyes, framed with long lashes, matched, with a soft sweetness Mary couldn’t resist. Though she could not ride well herself, she was hoping to learn while she was staying with Amelia at the Keep. She knew her sister had learned in the time that she had been staying there, and she could only imagine how exciting it must have been to feel the wind in her hair, hooves thundering beneath her as they carried her off anywhere she wanted to go.
“Aye, she’s a pretty one,” Kiernan replied. To her surprise, he reached out, too, and planted his hand on the creature’s neck. The horse bowed slightly at his touch, allowing for her to reach its mane, though she was paying more attention to the way he treated it.
His touch was gentle and careful, making sure not to spook the magnificent chestnut mare before them. How could a man who seemed to treat this animal with such care be as dangerous as Arran had claimed him to be? It didn’t make sense. She had never imagined that someone so fearful, someone who castsuch a long shadow with their reputation, could have been even remotely capable of what these people seemed to believe him able to do.
For a moment, as both of them paid attention to the horse, their fingers touched, his smallest finger grazing against her thumb, and she felt that familiar jolt, that rush of sensation that began where their connection did and raced through her whole body. She longed to steal a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, wishing that she could check on how he reacted to it. Could he feel it as well? Or was she imagining it all between them, inventing some spurious romance that could never have existed? Perhaps he thought it was funny, seeing the way she reacted to him, making it so easy to read her desires with every motion.
He dropped his hand by his side again, and she followed suit, remembering all at once that Gregory and the other men were nearby. It would have been too much of a risk to try anything more than this. What they had done thus far could have been passed off as nothing more than an innocent walk, but if she let her touch linger on his for any longer, she might have been caught in the act.
And she didn’t much like the thought of finding out what would happen if Arran knew what she had been up to.
She swallowed hard, running a hand through her hair to distract herself.
“The heather on the hills is so beautiful, don’t you think?” she asked, blurting out something, anything as soon as she was able to. He smiled and nodded.
“Aye, it is,” he agreed. “I used to pull it up by the roots when I was a lad, made for a good place to sleep when it was clear out.”
The two of them continued to converse as they strolled along the edge of the river. Birch trees dipped their green branches low towards the water, and a few birds fluttered along the edges, trying to pick out an insect or small fish to feed on. Dandelionsstudded yellow along the banks, and tangles of wildflowers twisted by the path. He offered his arm again, but she declined it, too worried of how obvious she might make her attraction to him if she touched him again. It seemed as though it was coming off of her in waves, and the notion that he might catch on to it was nigh-on mortifying.
The entire time, she was distinctly aware of Gregory and the other men watching her. She could feel their eyes on her, taking them in at every second, not a single word or gesture unnoticed. Would they report it back to Amelia and Arran? And what would her sister make of it, especially since she had made it clear that she totally trusted everything that her husband believed? Surely, she would take his side, if Arran declared that her closeness to this man was a risk.
By the time they rounded back to the market again, dark clouds had begun to fill the skies above them. Kiernan looked up, and she noticed, for a moment, the sharp outline of his jaw beneath his skin. She wished she could run her tongue along it, taste the roughness of his stubble against her skin.
“Looks like it’s getting dreich,” he remarked. “You’d best be getting home, lass. Else you’ll be washed away.”
He smirked as he spoke, almost as though he were challenging her. She eyed him for a moment, trying to read his expression, his true meaning, though nothing seemed forthcoming.
“Take care o’ yerself,” he said, and with that, he turned to stride back towards the river, soon vanishing from her sight. She stared at the spot he had been standing, as though she could muster him back just through the sheer power of her thought, but the long silence remained, leaving her with it only the memory of his warning words.
