Page 81
Although she’d promptly fallen asleep upon returning to their room last night, every other night they’d spent together had been consumed by passion. Gillian had never imagined such wondrous feelings existed.
But she longed for more. She longed to know all there was to know about this great clan chief who treated her so tenderly, this man she’d fallen in love with despite herself.
“Here.” He bent down and she with him. At least the water was not raging but instead flowed smoothly, inhibited only by a stray rock or two.
He cupped the water and splashed his face, indicating she should do the same. Gillian looked down at her gown, which was sure to get wet.
“’Tis only water,” he said.
Sure enough, when she cupped her own hands, reached down into the icy cold water, and splashed it onto her face, wetness dripped down her neck and onto the neckline of her gown.
Graeme looked as if he would hand her his linen cloth. Instead, he moved closer and began to wipe her face himself.
A surge of emotion shook her. Aye, she loved him. There could be no doubt. But did he love her back? Could he?
“Thank you for not telling Reid Kerr about my father.”
He moved the cloth down to her neck. “I’d never betray you Gillian. Surely you know that?”
She did. Or was beginning to.
“Why didn’t he question you further?” She thought of the strange look that had passed between them and wanted to understand.
“We are allies.”
Gillian waited, but he did not say anything more.
“And?”
“And I asked him to trust me, so he did.”
“But you never said—”
“I didn’t have to.”
“When my sister asked me to trust her, I did not do so immediately,” she said, staring into his tawny eyes. What did that mean? Was Graeme just more loyal than she was?
“But you did.”
She thought of how many times Allie had begged her. “Aye. Eventually.”
When Graeme began to rise, she stayed him with her hand.
“Whenever we speak like this, you leave. Can you not stay?”
The tender look he’d been giving her transformed to his familiar chief look. She had his answer even before he opened his mouth.
“The men are waiting.”
“Graeme, why do you do this?”
He stood despite her plea. “Do what? Gillian, we really must—”
“Sometimes you’re so open with me, so tender and loving. But at other times, like now . . .”
When he didn’t respond, she pressed on. “. . . you might as well be a stranger to me.”
Graeme looked as if he were about to say something, but he took her hand instead.
