What he truly wanted was time alone with Christina. More than once, fielding her somber, beautiful gaze, he had wondered what was on her mind. But it was always just as he hurried away to attend to one task or another.
Had he made a mistake in letting himself fall deeply in love? Was Christina tempted to return to her own life, her arrogant boor of a suitor? If he was being honest with himself, Aedan had to consider the notion that it might be time to retreat into his safely guarded heart again. But those locks were broken open. He had set himself free—and what now?
For a little while, he might be free, but had forgotten he could not risk falling in love. For Christina’s sake especially, he could not.
Edgar, for all his flaws, was wealthy, socially prominent, handsome enough, and willing and able to marry Christina if she wanted the advantages of that life. Aedan’s inheritance had dwindled with the vast expenses of an aging house and vast estate. But he loved Christina. He could not detach from that draw, that urge and need now. He loved her, and no matter the outcome, change had come into his life.
And if she was willing to take a risk, he might have found a way through this.
The afternoon was warm, damp, stifling. Aedan wiped his brow and drank from a silver flask. Lemonade laced with whisky, he discovered—Effie’s remedy for a long workday that might once again go deep into the night. He stuck the flask into his jacket pocket and looked up at the sky, which was growing ominous yet again.
“Damn this rainy luck,” he said as Hector returned. “This highway will never be finished if we are continually plagued by water and mud.”
“Maybe the queen can float to Dundrennan,” Hector said. “Then we’d need no road.”
Aedan laughed. Just then, Rob shouted that the fuse was about to be ignited, and Aedan ran with Hector toward the steam engine, a handy bastion of protection. Moments later, Rob and others joined them, hunkering down.
Then he felt the rock shudder under his feet as the powder ignited, far enough away to be safe, though dirt and stones spewed a fair distance outward. Aedan thought of the blast weeks ago that had torn open the other side of the hill, exposing the ancient wall.
That blast had sent everlasting shocks into his very life. He knew he would never be the same. For an instant, he wondered what upheaval this explosion would create.
Not much of an upheaval, he realized a few minutes later when he went with the others to inspect the hillside. A massive rock, newly split, was surrounded by little debris.
“Looks good,” he said.
“Looks perfect!” Rob said. “Shall we continue?”
Aedan sighed. “Let the dust settle here. I have not been back to the house for a day or two. I should put in an appearance, but will return later. Tell the men to relax. You too, lad. Good work.”
He walked away, realizing it was nearly teatime, and Edgar Neaves was likely to be there. But a stop at the house could bring the chance he needed to talk to Christina.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“One of theJeanies will bring tea soon,” John told Christina. “I asked that it be brought here in the dining room, if you do not mind. I am glad you came to join us, Aedan,” he added, crossing the room, leaning heavily on the ivory head of his cane.
“I would not have missed it, since you are letting see more of the mural,” Aedan said.
Christina stood near Aedan, hands folded calmly, heart beating fast. He had his back to her, studying a partially finished section of the new mural.
She had been surprised to find Aedan here when she had entered the room a few minutes ago. Oddly, she felt shy near him now: so much unsaid, yet so much secret passion between them made her uncertain rather than sure. For days, they had only exchanged banalities—polite greetings, remarks that the weather was pleasant; the rain was back again; twilight was coming earlier these days; and would there ever be an end to the mud?
He had seemed so rushed, often surrounded by the work crew. She craved to be alone with him, feel his arms around her, share her thoughts—and finally, hopefully, hear more about what he had said days ago.I love you fiercely. Did he, and what did it mean?
Smoothing her hands nervously over the bell of her dark-green skirt, she smiled. “I took tea with Lady Balmossie and Amyyesterday,” she said. “We missed you, Sir Aedan. And you, John—in the sitting room. Thistle was with us too,” she added.
“Did she agree with Sir Edgar?” Aedan asked.
“She quite fancied him. He was rather inept in fending off her attentions, and he had to change his coat after she put cake in his pockets.”
“Fickle lass,” Aedan drawled. “She used to mess up my coat.”
“I am sure she loves you best,” Christina said.
“Does she?” Aedan murmured.
“Tea at last!” John said as a knock sounded and he went to the door to open it.
“Good afternoon.” Sir Edgar strode past John. “Ah, Christina. I was told I might find you here. And Sir Aedan, too! You’ve been a bit scarce.”
