8
Charlotte swallowed. His response wasn’t what she had expected. The easy-going smile he had been wearing since they had stepped outside had disappeared. He wasn’t looking at her anymore with the same gleam in his eyes.
It was clear that talking about his family was off limits.
“I have an older brother,” she tossed out, hoping that would be safe enough ground. “And I guess I have a sister now too. He just got married a few weeks ago.”
He nodded, not really hearing her but not ignoring her either.
She stayed quiet, letting them both stew in their thoughts.
They rounded a corner, leading into another part of the garden. She was more than a little impressed by how vast it was. There were rows and rows of flowers, vegetables, and herbs planted everywhere they walked. Everything was fenced in with well trimmed hedges that came up to her knees. Even the paths they had walked were well kept—the gravel small enough that it didn’t poke through her slippers. With a few well placed fountains and benches, it was her ideal garden.
She wanted to tell him how grateful she was that he had taken the time out of his day to show her such a spectacular part of the castle, but she didn’t know how to with his given mood.
When the roses came into view, she couldn’t help but comment.
“Och, these are my favorite,” she told him, slipping her hand out of his elbow so she could crouch down to smell the flowers. “I love the way their scent floats through the air, touching everything around them.”
“They are verra bonny,” he agreed. “I think someone told me once that their colors mean something different, but I cannae remember what.”
“Aye,” she exclaimed, relieved that they were talking again. “The white rose signifies hope and innocence, like a new love. They are somewhat common to see. But these,” her fingers gingerly wrapped around the ink almost purplish smooth petals, “are more rare. These ones show passion or infatuation.”
Her cheeks turned red as soon as she realized what she was saying. She stood quickly, leaving the roses behind her as she twisted a piece of hair between her fingers.
“I love how much ye ken about them,” he told her, his voice soft and low again. “I cannae wait to hear about all the other flowers in the garden.”
She gave him a shy smile, still embarrassed.
He offered his arm again, which she took, and they resumed their walk. Only a few steps in and she felt a snap. She stumbled, gripping his arm tighter to hold herself up.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, concern written all over his face.
Her own brows furrowed as she gathered her skirts in one hand, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
“I dinnae ken. I think there is something wrong with my shoe,” she explained.
Without hesitation or question, he dropped his arm and knelt in front of her.
“Let’s see it,” he ordered, holding his hands out so he could catch the offending foot.
She did as he asked, blushing the entire time. She simply could not make sense of what he was doing. In all her time living in her father’s castle, with all the of the Lairds that came and went, she had never seen one jump to do something so menial so quickly before.
“Ye really dinnae have to do that,” she argued. “I am sure my maid will be able to sort out the problem as soon as we get back to the castle.”
“Aye,” he agreed, continuing to work on her shoe anyways, “but then we would have to cut our walk short. I would hate to see ye uncomfortable for my sake. Especially when it is such an easy fix.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. Some moments she thought that he was enjoying their time together and then in the next, he would grow quiet and removed again. But as soon as she needed something, he didn’t hesitate to stop and fix it. Not even Alec had treated her with such attention.
It took him several minutes to finagle with her shoe. She wasn’t sure what exactly was wrong with it other than it no longer wanted to stay on her foot. With his focus on his task and not on her, she felt free to let her gaze wander and linger in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to before.
He moved with such dexterity that it was impossible not to notice how good he was with his hands. But there was more to it than that. He suddenly had a confidence in what he was doing that she had yet to see from him.
And then there were all the details in his face that she could see so much clearer. His skin was warm and rich from hours spent in the sun, but there was a thick band around his wrist that was so much paler than the rest of his arms where she suspected a wrist guard went. His hair was dark, almost black, but when the sunlight hit just perfectly, she could see just a few strands that shone different shades of red and brown. Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could see that they were framed with the longest, thickest set of black eyelashes.
As if he could sense her eyes on him, he glanced up at her. His hands were still holding her foot, one on the bottom, the other wrapped around her ankle. Her cheeks flushed as their eyes met. His were a stunning shade of green, that she had noticed the night before, but now she could see the smallest flecks of gold in them too. He held her gaze, neither of them willing to break the tension with so much as a breath of air.
Noise from the courtyard bubbled up over the hedges, cutting into the tranquil sanctuary they had been walking in, ruining the moment. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. A split second later and she could no longer keep eye contact with him. Her face burned and her stomach twisted in knots. He too seemed affected by their closeness as he cleared his throat, something she was starting to notice he did whenever he got nervous, and turned his attention back to her shoe.
