Eventually, the dinner ended and the guests took advantage of the warm evening air, venturing outside onto the various walkways and terraces to drink their wine and smoke their cigars while they congratulated themselves on being invited to such an exclusive affair.
The self-important bounders.
There was no one on these grounds, with the exception of Weston, who loved Brynne as he did. Who cared for her as he did. Who saw her–therealher–as he did.
These people didn’t know her.
They just knew the person she pretended to be when she was around them.
When she stepped out of a doorway and stood with candlelight at her back and moonlight on her face, he was temporarily stunned by her beauty. Six months without gazing upon her countenance and she took his breath as if they’d been apart for six years.
Not another day, he vowed as he cut a silent swath through the shadows.
Not another damned day.
He caught her before she could descend the stairs. Enclosing her wrist between his fingers, he pulled her into an alcove out of sight of those who might wonder what Lady Brynne Weston was doing with the likes of Lachlan Campbell.
“You,” she hissed, yanking free of his grasp and causing him to frown.
“Well ye needna say it like I’m the villain,” he scowled.
“Why?” Her hands went to her slender waistline, the tips of her gloves disappearing into heavy folds of pale yellow satin. “That is precisely what you are. I was under the impression that I’d made myself clear that we were through, Lachlan.”
“Aye, that’s what yesaid,” he acknowledged, and there was a part of him that still ached when he remembered the words she’d used. “But it’s not what ye meant. We all say things when we’re angry, little bird.”
“Look at me carefully.” She tapped her chin, drawing his attention to her lovely face. Silky cream with golden brows and the barest hint of rose in those high, high cheekbones. “Do I look angry?”
His first instinct was to say yes. But upon further consideration, he saw that all that white-hot fury from the day on the cliffs had faded and ebbed. In its place…in its place was a quiet, determined resolve that chilled him to the bone. Because it meant that whatever his Bry said now, it wouldn’t be spoken out of anger. Instead, it’d come from a place of calculated thought.
And that was much harder to take back.
“Bry–” he began, but she cut him off with a sharp jerk of her arm.
“You need to leave. Right this minute.”
“Or what?” he challenged.
“Or I’ll shoot you.”
She said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that he started to laugh.
Right up until she reached inside a reticule he hadn’t even noticed she was carrying and withdrew the tiniest, most adorable pistol he’d ever seen. At least itwasadorable until she drew back the hammer with a loudclickthat made the weapon sound much more deadly than it appeared.
“Are ye going tae kill me?” he said incredulously.
Annoyance flickered in her gaze. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well that’s a relief tae–”
“A bullet of this size would not cause lethal harm.” She straightened her arm and, to his horror, pointed the pistol right at the middle of his groin. “But I imagine it’s not going to feel very good.”
“Bluidy hell! Let’s not leap tae any hasty decisions.” Holding up one hand to ward her off while the other protectively cupped his bollocks, he retreated a step into the inky darkness. “I came here tae have a productive conversation, Bry. Not tae have me bits blown off. What happened tae a lady’s civility?”
A muscle clenched in her jaw. “It disappeared when I walked into that bedroom. I am not going to warn you again, Lachlan. You’re not welcome here. I don’twantyou anymore. And you need to leave. Now.”
She may not have fired the pistol, but her words cut through him like a bullet. Words that he never dreamed his Bry, his beloved, the girl he’d loved since he was a lad, would be capable of saying. As hurt flared, followed closely by a red-hot flash of rage, he opened his mouth to tell her how wrong she was…but then the clouds over the moon shifted, and silver light illuminated the well of tears in those magnificent hazel eyes, and he gritted his teeth together.
Brynne was hurting, too. Trying her best to hide it, but pain recognized pain. Wasn’t that one of the first things that had drawn them together? The English girl ignored by her family, and the Scottish boy tossed out of his school.
