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He looked for tracks and, finding none, returned a moment later.

“We’d best be off,” he said.

He wanted to resume where they’d left off, but he didn’t dare. When she’d blurted out that she was a virgin, he’d believed her. But if he hadn’t, the evidence was in the way she’d held herself against him. She was as pure a maiden as he’d ever kissed. And English. And determined to keep her identity secret. None of which boded well for a happy ending between them.

Whatever had made that sound had saved him from himself.

11

What in the name of the king of England was that?

He’d kissed her. From the moment they’d met, Clara had imagined what it would be like to be kissed by such a man, and yet she’d felt completely unprepared. Even so, she had never once thought of stopping him. She’d wanted it as badly as he had.

They rode hard all day and stopped only twice to feed themselves and the horses. As promised, they met no one along the road. And, so far, the weather cooperated. While the mornings were cool and grey, the day grew warmer as it went on, the sun peeking through just enough to be comfortable but not hot. Clara wished she could borrow some of that warmth at night.

Last night, it would appear, she’d borrowed Alex’s heat. Though it mortified her that he’d heard her cry out in her sleep, the rest of her slumber that night had been smooth and peaceful and free of dreams.

“There’s a loch just up ahead. The last one before we reach the border,” Alex called back to her.

She spurred her mount forward. “We’ll stop here for the night?”

The sky had already begun to darken, and Clara had just been about to ask when they’d stop.

“Aye,” he said, circling the area around the edge of a most interesting loch. A small, rock-faced hill stood in the center of it, the water surrounding it in a ring.

“What is it?” she called, taking Alex’s lead and dismounting.

“Volcanic rock,” he said. “Ancient cairns stand over there.” He pointed. “’Tis said this is a sacred spot.”

“Can you swim there?”

“Aye, though you’d likely freeze for your efforts.”

She walked to the water’s edge and dipped her hand into the water. Indeed, it was quite cold. “Surrounded by trees and the rock’s shadow, the water has little chance to warm.”

Clara stood at the water’s edge, watching as the last rays of sun lit the top of the grassy hill and surrounding rock at the center of the lake. She’d never seen anything quite like it.

By the time she refreshed herself and returned to the small clearing behind them, Alex had already erected their tent. They traded places, and she started the fire while he ventured up near the water. Not long after the fire grew from just a few embers, he returned with two fish.

“Trout,” he said.

“How did you catch them so quickly?”

His devilish smile told her his retort would be bold.

“I’ve many skills, fair maid. Would you like to see some others?”

She smiled. “You tease.”

“Never,” he said, making quick work of removing the bones and cooking the fish.

They ate in companionable silence, Clara content to enjoy the last remaining vestiges of an unusually warm Scottish day.

“I’ve never felt so safe,” she blurted out, because it was true.

“Never?”

“Not since Gilbert and I left home.”