“My wife, Sylvia, died six months ago—a good and gentle lady and the mother of my three bairns. Now be still. I want tae get some leagues behind us without any further outbursts from you.”
Julianna swallowed hard that he remained angry with her…and she hadn’t missed that his voice had cracked at the mention of his deceased wife.
She realized then that she knew so little of this man who wound his arm around her tightly before kicking their mount into a gallop.
Little more than his name and title, Laird Roger Douglas of north Lanarkshire—yet he had children and responsibilities that nonetheless, had not kept him from an ill-fated journey into England.
What had led him to leave home and hearth behind? His loyalty to his king? Yet what did it matter? Soon he would return to his home while she…
Julianna heaved a sigh, for she had no idea what would happen to her once they reached Dumbarton Castle. Dare she even ask Roger when they stopped to rest their horse or mayhap to eat? Her stomach rumbled noisily, and she glanced down at the lumpy bundle in her hand, a whiff of something fresh-baked making her feel all the more hungry.
“Go on, eat while we ride,” came his gruff voice as if he had read her thoughts.
Wondering what else he might have discerned, Julianna unwrapped the bundle as carefully as she could so as not to drop anything, and popped a big chunk of oakcake into her mouth.
Too much for her to chew, clearly, for she felt as if she was going to choke as she tried to swallow, and she began to cough and wheeze.
“Damnation, woman!”
Their mount was reined in to a halt so abruptly that Julianna pitched forward, though Roger caught her and gave her a sharp whack in the middle of her back.
Out flew the piece of oakcake to the ground, along with the rest of their food that slipped from her hand, Julianna flushing with embarrassment as he dismounted and pulled her down from the horse to stand in front of him.
Her eyes watering from near choking, she accepted gratefully a wineskin he untied from the saddle that the farmer from their brief stop yesterday had given to them.
Not wine but cool water coursed down her throat, Julianna drinking so thirstily that she began to cough again. That only brought her another whack against her back, though not as sharp this time, to her relief.
“Must you…beat upon me?” she demanded, trying to catch her breath. To her surprise, he began rubbing her back instead with a chagrined look upon his face, which made Roger appear almost boyish to her.
“Are you all right, lass?”
His tone had softened, too, and she would swear she saw a hint of a smile, though it faded when he looked at the contents of the bundle scattered upon the ground.
“So much for breakfast—”
“Oh, no, a little dirt isn’t going to stop me.” Julianna sidestepped him to retrieve two golden oakcakes still intact and a hunk of sheep’s milk cheese, which she clutched in her hands, and then offered to him. “Go on, you must be hungry, too.”
Now he did smile, shaking his head, but he didn’t refuse her.
He broke off a good chunk of cheese and took one of the oakcakes, the two of them eating in strangely comfortable silence while their horse wandered to the side of the road to nibble grass. When Julianna was done, Roger offered her the wineskin again, though this time, she drank more slowly.
“Aye, lass, you read my mind.”
He looked at ease now and not angry at her any longer, the breeze ruffling his dark brown hair and blowing hers around her face. She nearly choked again when he reached out to brush an errant tendril from her cheek, the same flip-flopping sensation in her stomach that had nothing to do with her appeased hunger.
Why did this man have to be more strikingly handsome than any she had seen before? Julianna felt some chagrin that she would have thought him so before she knew he was a widower, but her appraisal had been nothing if not innocent.
Of course a Highland laird such as Roger would have a beautiful wife and children—no,hada wife and still he grieved for her. Why else would his voice have caught at the mere mention of the woman he must have deeply loved?
“Forgive me for rushing you from the farm,” his low voice interrupted her tumbling thoughts, Julianna blushing furiously at how Roger stared at her. “I should have given you some time tae eat and see tae your needs. Better that than near choking at a full gallop, aye?”
She nodded, murmuring a soft “Aye,” and then blushed even more hotly. “I-I mean yes…if you don’t mind…”
Without giving him a chance to say another word, Julianna hurried with a racing heart into the trees and didn’t stop until she couldn’t see him any longer—though it wasn’t too far away that he would become concerned she was trying to escape from him.
Just far enough so she could lean against a tree trunk and catch her breath…and try to calm her pounding heartbeat.
Why did he have to speak so kindly to her? His deep brown eyes holding hers…so arresting a hue in the morning sunlight and his lips parted as if he had meant to say something else to her before she had hastened into the woods.
