“I do not understand.” She slanted her head, contemplating him.
“Let me be honest. He attempted to wheedle away things my father treasured.”
“He told me he negotiated and was refused.”
“Manipulated. Cajoled. Pestered. His offers were insultingly low. Father was unwell, yet Neaves would not leave the man be. He pestered me to convince Father. I began to avoid him,for there were times when I wanted to throttle him. I believe he endangered Father’s health with his damnable persistence. It may have led to that last fatal attack.”
“That is very harsh. Edgar can be cool and businesslike, and at times he can be… insensitive. He simply is a man of high intellect with sometimes poor manners. At heart he is decent enough.”
“Even so, I would not sell him a jar of jam. If it were up to me, he would never set foot here again. But now we have the government looking at that damned hill as treasure trove, and in their bailiwick.”
“True, they would be part of the decision. But you are wrong about Edgar.”
“Am I? Or are you the one mistaken about him?” He frowned. “Are you on such close terms that you would defend him?”
The heat grew fierce in her cheeks. She did not want to say that Edgar had a keen personal interest in her. She wanted to forget that, particularly now. She shrugged. “I have known him for years. Our fathers were friends.”
“I see,” he murmured, watching her for a moment. “Miss Burn, when you blush,” he went on, “your feelings are on display.”
“I hope not all of them. Sir Aedan,” she said, choosing formality when she did not want it, “I will need to return to Edinburgh soon. That was always the plan.”
“I know,” he said, folding his arms, leaning against the wall. The wedged space behind the door lent a sense of privacy and intimacy. “Do you want to go?”
“I cannot yet. There is much to be done yet. I confess I am confused about what—what I should do.”
“Confused about what happened between us?” he asked softly. “I am equally confused, my lass. We should be more… cautious.”
Her heart broke just then, but he was right. “Best we do not let it develop.”
“I suppose. But it is extraordinary to be confused over you. Christina,” he said low. “I behaved improperly, and should not have let it continue.”
“That was not your doing. I also—”
He held up a hand. “Hear me. What I did was improper. There is no excuse.”
“We responded to natural urges. Such things happen.”
“And such things can end as easily as they began.”
“Can they?” She looked down. “I must apologize too. I have never—felt like that.”
“I pressed too far with you. I am sorry. Truly.”
Christina watched him, disappointed, yet not surprised. The moment had to come, given his conviction about his role as laird of Dundrennan. Yet part of her did not want to end it, did not care about legends and superstitions and holding back for propriety’s sake.
She only wanted him to kiss her, hold her, do what he would with her so that she could do the same with him. At her core, she wanted to be with him, and hoped he felt it too, somewhere inside. Yet she faltered, uncertain and hurt. She might be foolish indeed to give her feelings rein without his equal interest and invitation.
“If we can overlook what happened, we could consider it a prelude to friendship.”
She laughed bitterly. “Friendship. Of course.”
Could she overlook it? The need she felt was powerful. Yet he stood tense, arms folded, legs crossed as he leaned. Locked up, feelings locked away, heart shuttered.
Dalliance was fine in his eyes. Anything more was not.
She was a simpleton to lose her heart to this intense, beautiful, exasperating man so quickly. For several years, shehad locked away her own feelings, shelved her needs, hidden her feelings from everyone, including herself. She had never wanted to fall in love again.
Yet she was falling like a star from the sky, plummeting, and he would not be there to catch her.
