In an instant, he spotted her dark braid down by the stables. He cocked an eyebrow but set about dressing, supposing she had intended for him to meet her there.
He took the stairs two at a time, and when he reached her, the air had that cold morning chill, the kind that bit clean into the skin. He rubbed his hands together as he approached her, and she glanced around, cheeks flushed despite the cloak she had wrapped around her body.
“Oh, there you are,” she remarked, with a slight smile. “I was hoping you might give me a tour of the lands today. If it would not interfere with yer duties, of course.”
She pressed her lips together slightly, and he chuckled.
“I suppose I could spare this morning for it,” he conceded. “Come. Do you ken how to ride?”
“Of course I do!”
She proved herself more or less right, though she was slightly less steady on the horse than he was. He didn’t blame her. Ladies of her caliber didn’t tend to ride much, preferring to move from place to place with the help of a carriage or the like. But she insisted that she would be able to keep up with him. And she did, as they took the hill that led up and away from the Keep, rising to the top of a small mountain that would give them a view down over the heather fields.
At this time of year, it was beautiful in this part of the country. And it wasn’t just his pride that had him saying that. The blazing red leaves against the purple and green of the heather made for a striking sight, no matter which way you sliced it. And he noticed that she was appreciating it, too, as she slowed her horse a few times to get a look at a particularly verdant valley or something of the like.
Eventually, they slowed the horses as they crested the top of the hill. When they reached it, the sun had just begun its full ascent into the sky, casting golden rays down across the landscape that lay before them.
As she climbed down from her horse, she planted a hand to her chest, gazing out across the view.
“My goodness,” she exclaimed. “It really is quite bonny here, isn’t it?”
“You could say that, aye,” he agreed as he tied the horses to a nearby tree. “Anything interesting fer you to write about in yer journal?”
“Oh, yes, I can think of a few things I’d like to take from here to make notes on,” she returned enthusiastically. “Perhaps we could return some time with some?—”
She stopped in her tracks, glancing over at him.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I guess you were only making a joke.”
“I wasnae.”
“Why, that was very thoughtful of ye, my Laird.”
They smiled at each other, and he gestured towards the view once again. “I knew a lass like ye would appreciate the beauty of this place.”
“Ye have brought others here before me, then.” Her cheerful tone dropped, and she stared at him.
He could not help but shift slightly where he stood. Was it really so hard for her to believe, after everything that they had done together the night before, that he might be capable of showing a sincere interest in her? He did not know how he could have made things more clear, and yet, she seemed to find ways to avoid the obvious.
“Did you… bring Isobel here?” she asked, suddenly.
He tensed at the mention of her name. He did not want to think of her, not if he could help it, and he knew that she was trying to make something of this.
“I did,” he admitted. It was the truth. “But she didnae?—”
“Find as much to enjoy as me,” she finished up for him. “Well, I’m glad that I’m so easy fer you to entertain.”
He gritted his teeth. He could not seem to get through to this woman, no matter what he did, no matter how sure he was that he had shown her that he cared for her. She seemed to have it in her mind that she was his second choice, that she would never have taken his name had it not been for Isobel’s rejection. The thought bothered him, more than he cared to admit.
“You wanted to marry her, didn’t you?” she asked, glancing over at him pointedly. “You cared very deeply for her. Her smile, her coin…”
“I dinnae wish to discuss Isobel any longer. Ye’re my wife, and that’s all that matters.”
Her face flickered. He knew that he could have phrased things with a little more care, but he did not want to indulge this paranoia that she had taken on, painting him as the villain.
“Hard to believe that when you just married me to get back at her and my brother,” she muttered.
“That’s enough,” came his harsh reply, leaving no room for argument.
