Page 25 of The Widow Wore Plaid

“For the last time, Kinellan, where are you taking me?”

They had been riding at least an hour and her companion still refused to tell her where they were bound. Once they’d left the driveway, they had turned right, toward a fairly close mountain range, so she assumed they were heading for them. And that was also puzzling. Why would he wish to get her alone to show her rock outcroppings or deer trails? Yet, he would give her no information whatsoever.

“Do you see that outcropping of rock there?” He pointed toward the mountain that towered over them, an exposed group of boulders that looked strikingly like an eagle’s beak, overhanging a sheer drop.

“Yes.” Good Lord, he did want to show her rock formations. What a peculiar method of courtship. She’d be less exasperated with him if she weren’t so uncomfortable. The warm morning had turned quite hot so she was sticking to her clothing terribly. More than once she had to resist the urge to wipe her sleeve over her brow. This was therefore no time for a geography lesson.

“That is called Hawk’s Crest. You can see it for miles around when there’s no foliage.” To add insult to injury, Kinellan then continued the lecture with more trivial information about the area. “The stone is granite and the eye of the hawk is formed by a small cave carved out of the rock by wind and weather.”

“Fascinating.” He’d been talking about the flora and fauna for the past half an hour and showed no signs of stopping. She tried one desperate ploy. “Is that our destination?”

Turning a wide, seemingly shocked gaze on her, he hastened to deny it. “Oh, no, Jane. We would never make it up there.” He sounded as though she should have known better than to even suggest such a thing. “There is a path of sorts, well, more like a goat trail, that one could follow on foot, but the horses would never make it.”

“Kinellan!” Patience at an end, Jane pulled Penelope to a halt. The heat had evaporated any trace of her good humor. “The first ten minutes of your guided tour of the Highlands was entertaining. Any such amusement, I assure you, has long since worn off. If you do not wish to lose a fiancée, tell me this instant where you are taking me.”

He stopped his horse, raised his hand, and cocked his head.

Suddenly wary, Jane uneasily glanced around the trees and thick underbrush. “What is it?”

“Listen.”

She grew still and slowly turned her head, first left, then right. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Listen harder.” He closed his eyes, as if straining to hear, then smiled. “There, don’t you hear it?”

“Kinellan, if you are playing games—”

“Shh. Really listen closely, Jane.”

She tried to curb her impatience and concentrate on the sounds of the forest—birdsong, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the chittering of small animals in the brush, and—“Is that a stream?”

“You have excellent hearing, my dear.” He grinned at her and started Hector again. “We need to go just a little farther.”

The prospect of a cold stream, even if only a trickle, would be more than welcome in her current state. They continued upward several hundred yards until the low babble of the stream changed significantly from a whisper to a low rumble. “What is that?”

Instead of answering, Kinellan hopped down off Hector and pulled her off Penelope as well. He grabbed her hand. “This way.”

Resisting the urge to take her hat off and fan herself with it, Jane followed him up a well-marked trail, the horses following behind them. The roaring of the water became louder with every step.

“Can you guess what it is now?” He grinned like a fool.

“A waterfall!” They rounded a bend and the noise was deafening. Before her lay not a tamely trickling brook, but wild rushing water that foamed and danced as it raced over a series of boulders formed hundreds if not thousands of years ago. Suddenly, the magnificence of it and her own insignificance overwhelmed her.

“This, my love, is Rogie Falls, part of the Black River and quite the loveliest prospect on my property. Tomorrow I will suggest our friends visit this spot as well, while we will actually go visit Mr. Ross at the kirk.”

Speechless at the beauty, the sheer power of the rushing water, Jane could only stare openmouthed and nod.

“I thought we might make this one of our favorite picnic spots.” He grinned and took her arm. “Let’s go closer and give the horses a drink.”

The spray from the rushing water cooled Jane’s face miraculously. If only she could strip off her hot clothing and plunge into the icy water she would be ecstatic. A quick look at Kinellan revealed him fiddling with his cravat, as if trying to loosen it. Was he having the same indecent thoughts as well?

“Would you like to feel the water?”

Jane started back. Had he read her mind? But no, he merely bent and scooped up some of the water in his hand. She smiled and pulled off her glove. He poured the icy water into her hand and flicked some stray drops into her face. She squealed, dancing backward. “Kinellan, behave yourself.”

“I thought you might need some cooling off.” He scooped up another handful of the cold water and splashed it in his own face. “The sun’s been hot all this while. Why don’t we lie right over there in the shade, where it’s cool, and we could—”

“Kinellan, I told you to behave.” Heat suffused her face. Had he been about to suggest what she thought he was going to suggest? Jane had been married most of her life, and since widowhood had led a rather adventuresome private life, but never had she ever made love out in the open daylight, in a wood in full view of anyone who happened to pass by. It was unheard of. “I will do no such thing.”