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Something was weighing on Sebastian’s mind, but Cordelia hadn’t the first idea what. He was in generally good spirits and had welcomed her to the home farm in the days since the céilidh. She’d sat in various places, drawing sketches of the animals, the house, the distant mountains. He’d talked to her when his work took him past where she sat. He’d smiled at her often. But there was a certain pull to his mouth, a tension around his eyes that told her he was not entirely at ease. She’d half expected each time she visited that he would tell her he’d rather she not come any longer.
Cordelia arrived at the home farm on the fifth morning after the céilidh. Sebastian sat on the back of his pony cart, already hitched and apparently waiting for departure.
She stopped just shy of where he sat. “Are you about to leave?”
“That depends on you, Cordelia.”
There was something almost flirtatious in his tone. She tried not to read too much into that.
“Did you know that you blush whenever I say your name?”
She had suspected as much. “I like the way you say it.”
“And how do I say it?” Warmth filled his gaze.
“Like you’ve lived in Scotland part of your life. Like you think it is a nice name.”
“Both true,” he said with a nod, but watched her as if expecting more.
“And I think that is enough answers from me when I’ve a few questions to ask you.”
“Fair enough.” He patted the cart beside him. “Have a seat and begin your interrogation.”
She set her art supplies just behind him, then sat in the spot he’d indicated. Wouldn’t her London friends be shocked to see her situating herself so casually and so … countrified?
“Why is it,” she asked, “that your imminent departure depends so much upon me?”
“Because my destination is Dalwyck, and I’m aiming for that spot specifically because I think you would enjoy painting it.”
She set her hand on his arm. “You’ve thought of another spot for me to paint?”
He nodded. “I thought of it the day we went to Loch Tev. It’s a bit farther afield, though, so I needed a day when I could take you there and back and still afford you time enough to paint.”
She slipped her arm through his, even leaned a little against him. The gruff man she’d encountered in the Burnwick House kitchen was proving incredibly comforting. “I do not want you neglecting your farm, Sebastian. What little I know of the laird tells me he’s likely to be very exacting in his expectations.”
Sebastian pulled his arm from hers. Disappointment dropped her heart to her feet. But then he wrapped that arm around her shoulders and tucked her nearer, and all was right again.
“The laird is in Edinburgh still. I did extra work all this week to get a bit ahead on my duties. And Connall’s brought his younger brother to the home farm today to help him do what remains to be done.”
He’d been doing extra work that week. It did explain why he’d seemed more strained. That eased some of her worries.
“I would very much like to go with you to Dalwyck,” she said. “Though Shadow will insist on coming along.”
“She’ll enjoy Dalwyck. Most of it is a large, open meadow. She can graze to her heart’s content.”
They talked of lighthearted things as he drove the cart away from the heart of Teviotbrae. She learned a little of his parents, mostly through his memories of journeys his family had made and places they’d visited. She told him of friends she’d had in London and fine works of art she’d seen there.
The miles passed so pleasantly that she was surprised when the landscape around her had transformed without warning into a glorious open glen, with mountains in the distance and wildflowers all around.
“Is this Dalwyck?”
“It is,” he said.
A small house sat at one edge of the enormous meadow. “Will the people who live here be upset that we’ve come?”
He shook his head. “The house is unoccupied.”
“It doesn’t seem neglected, though.”
