Alec rubbed his wet hair with a fold of his plaid, oblivious. “I know what you’re thinking. I spent many nights swimming here myself, trying not to remember,” Angus said. He smiled out at the water. “Och, she was a sweet thing, just like Caroline is—”
Alec got up and wrapped his plaid around his hips, belting it in place. He didn’t bother to put on his shirt. He slung it over his shoulder and headed back toward Glenlorne.
Angus watched him go, and felt the agony of loss all over again.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
It was done. Caroline paced the floor of her room. She was free. Or was she?
Freedom came at a price. A terrible price. She would most likely spend her life taking care of other people’s children as a governess, or a teacher. Yet she would not have it otherwise.
She would probably never marry at all, and had no desire to. Her heart belonged yet again to a man she could not have. Unfortunately, this time she wasn’t merely fondly hoping that a certain gentleman would propose, and doing her very best to convince herself she was in love with him.
She knew now that those pallid feelings hadn’t been love at all, just a desire to belong somewhere, to someone, because she’d been raised to expect to marry within her class, breed heirs for him, and run his estates. There would have been no adventures, no surprises, no Alec.
As much as it hurt in this moment, she would not have missed the past weeks for the world.
It was a relief to be free of Somerson, to be independent, though she had been pampered and cared for all her life, had money and luxuries. She could live without those. Losing Alec was harder. Now her choice was made, she knew now she couldn’t remain at Glenlorne and watch as he married Sophie.
She crossed to the window and sat on the window seat, looking out at the old tower, standing sentinel over the glen. “Keep him safe, make him happy,” she whispered.
The crunch of gravel caught her by surprise. Who was out at this late hour? Alec came up the drive. Her eyes widened, and she stared at him from the anonymity of her window, high above him. He was wearing his kilt, but his chest was bare, his shirt over his shoulder. His hair was wet, sleek against his head. The light of the torches that lit the outside of the castle flared over his broad shoulders and naked chest, turning his flesh to gold.
Caroline’s mouth watered, and she remembered exactly how warm his skin was, how hard the muscle beneath, and how she had dug her nails into his shoulders as he loved her. Her first time. And the last, if one didn’t count the wicked game he’d played with her at dinner. Her body flushed and tingled. She wanted more.
She bit her lip and shut her eyes, trying to still the longing.
When she opened her eyes again, Alec had stopped walking. He stood below her window looking up at her, just the way he had the day she first saw him. She held her breath and tightened her hand on the stone sill, and felt his gaze like a gentle finger moving over her skin, quickening her heartbeat, raising goose bumps, making desire rush through her veins. She stared back, unable to move, even to break the spell.
He groaned, and the soft sound echoed off the stones.
She watched as he turned back the way he’d come and disappeared down the path that led to the loch.
For a long moment Caroline hovered in the window, watching the dark path, wishing he’d come back, climb the stairs, throw open the door to her room as he did before. He didn’t come. She should go to bed, be sensible, but what point was there in lying down? She wouldn’t sleep, not with so much in her head to prevent it. She needed— She shut her eyes. She shouldn’t.
She grabbed a shawl and hurried down the stairs.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
She heard the splash of water as she neared the loch. She paused in the shadows and looked out across the dark, silken surface. She saw his head appear, like a seal or an otter, and she slipped deeper into the darkness under the trees, and almost tripped on his discarded clothes. She should go, she thought, walk away before he saw her, demanded an explanation. She didn’t have one. She was on a fool’s errand. She turned away.
“Don’t go,” he called. “Or at least don’t go if you were looking for me.”
Caroline clasped her hands together tightly as she stepped into view. “I wasn’t,” she said. “Not really. I couldn’t sleep. I was just walking.” That sounded like a thin excuse indeed—what kind of a ninny went walking all alone at night? Mind you, what kind of ninny went swimming at midnight? “Is the water cold?” she asked, striving for a conversational tone.
“Not nearly cold enough,” he replied.
Caroline frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Care to join me and find out?”
She blinked. Was he suggesting she remove her clothing, lay it beside his on the bank, and swim? She’d never done such a thing, not even as a child. Still she was tempted. She’d seen the local children swimming in the loch by day. It was just one more of Glenlorne’s pleasures. A bolt of dismay pierced her. “I’m leaving,” she said.
“Suit yourself,” he called back.
“I mean I’m leaving Glenlorne.”
He was still in the water for a moment. She stared down at her fingers, white as bone in the moonlight. “I will stay for the wedding—Lottie’s wedding—then I will go.” She made the decision as she spoke. She could not stay for his wedding, watch Sophie simper and blush while Alec smiled down at her, kissed her, cherished her.
