Spanning his hands, strong and sure and gentle, he lifted her, pushing fabrics away, letting skin find skin. Until with a breath and a gasp, he slipped within—
This, this felt right and good and necessary, and she moved with him in unison, with soft, ragged, whispered sounds, passion drunk, without thought. Here in the dark and silent room, there were no doubts, only trust and secret freedom. Here, she loved and was loved.
Out there, beyond the door, she felt no certainty. Here was safety and deep love expressed, created. He drew away, kissed her again, wrapped her in his arms and held her for a while in silence. His breath was fast, hers too, and when both calmed, he kissed her forehead and drew back.
“Christina, I—”
She shushed him with a finger to his mouth, then kissed him lightly. Something told her they needed to separate now, just as strongly as they had needed to unite. They needed to ponder and then return to the fire and the feeling between them to understand it, with its implications. She felt as if love had opened a portal; they must either enter or turn away.
“Love,” he said, “we will talk. But now I must—”
“You must go,” she replied. “For now.” She unlatched the door and stepped aside.
“Aye then.” He traced his fingers over her cheek, then left. When the door had closed, she pressed her head against the wood, trembling. She sensed him on the other side, standing silent for a long moment.
Then he was gone, and she felt the fierce ache of his absence.
Chapter Twenty-One
Opening the doorto the breakfast room the next morning, Christina brushed her dark-green skirt, touched her hair, wound in a neat knot—then stood for a moment, catching her breath, hoping to see Aedan. She felt a pleasant little shudder to remember last night’s luscious intimacies, secret and wonderful and to be cherished.
When she had finally drifted to sleep, she dreamed Aedan was the ancient prince and she was Liadan—surely that stemmed from the posing sessions. In the dream, everything felt so authentic, from woolen tunics to golden armbands to the dark, smoky interior of a round house of turf and stone, more like a memory than a dream. What a silly romantic notion, she thought; she had awoken beneath the quilts reaching for him, only to realize she had slept alone in her room.
Blushing, hoping enough time had passed that they could find time together that day, she stepped into morning sunlight beaming through tall windows, the room made even more cheerful by flowered chintz and golden oak.
But Aedan was not there, and the room seemed suddenly less bright. However, she saw Mrs. Gunn, checking the hot foods in the chafing dishes. “Mrs. Blackburn, good morning! Will you have some coffee?”
“Please,” she replied, and took a plate to serve herself from the warming pans and salvers on the large mahogany buffet. Hermorning appetite was usually light, and she helped herself to fruit and took some toast from a rack.
“Looks like sun all day, with none o’ them thunner-plumps we’ve seen lately,” Mrs. Gunn said, setting a full coffee cup on the table with a small pitcher of cream. “Will ye go to the hill again? Tam took Sir Aedan out in the carriage, but if ye’d like the gig, MacGregor can send for a groom to take ye.”
“Oh, no, thank you. I would enjoy walking on such a fine day. Has—has Sir Aedan gone to the work site so early?
Mrs. Gunn placed a small basket of raisin muffins and a bowl of fresh berries near Christina’s plate.
“Oh, no, he’s gone to Glasgow and then Edinburgh today, traveling with Miss MacDonald and her grandmother. They have business in the city,” she explained.
“He’s gone?” She felt a plummeting disappointment. “I did not know.”
“Aye, he’s gone for a few days perhaps. With Effie and Dora MacDonald. They are great friends, what wi’ him being engaged to t’other Miss MacDonald and all.”
Her stomach flipped. “The other Miss MacDonald?”
“Effie’s other granddaughter, Dora’s cousin Elspeth. What a bonny lass she was.”
“Oh,” Christina said, a bit startled. Then she remembered. “I did hear—that he had lost his fiancée. Is that the one?”
“Aye. We thought the lad would die o’ grief when she passed so quicklike. ’Twas a shock for all, coming so soon after Sir Neil was lost in the war. Though I never thought Miss MacDonald was a suitable wife for a laird and baronet, but she was a sonsie lass, and we loved her well.”
“I see.” Christina sat very still, fingers resting on the coffee cup, the heat searing through the fine china.
“Sir Aedan wasna the heir then, see, so he could marry as he liked. It were so sad.” Mrs. Gunn sighed. “Some hope he will wedMiss Amy someday,” she said in a loud whisper. “But I think that willna happen.”
“No?” Christina said carefully.
“Well, Miss Stewart says Sir Aedan is a braw man but a dullie, and she likes him best as a cousin. She has cut him free, I hear, to set her sights elsewhere.”
Christina blinked as she sipped coffee. “Oh?”
