Page 15
“I only walked a few miles huntin’ this mornin’, but that storm caused a significant amount of devastation. More than I estimated.” He angled his spoon toward the window. “I saw more than one mudslide and, in all honesty, Emeline, I wouldna be surprised if the road hasna washed out.”
She darted a glance outside before bringing her attention back to him, infinite patience in her whisky-colored eyes. Instinct told him she’d make superb mother.
Hold there, he silently chastised himself. She might be a beguiling lass, but musings about motherhood were too bloody intimate for his comfort.
He cleared his throat. “I ken I told ye we’d need to stay for a day, but I dinna think it would be wise to leave for at least three.”
Hooking an arm over the back of his chair, Liam instinctively braced himself for a fit of high-pitched, tear-laced feminine displeasure.
Rather than becoming upset about the delay in their departure, Emeline regarded him serenely. “I noticed the degree of damage in the nearby woodlands.”
Och, aye.Before him was the calm, self-possessed Miss LeClaire.
He relaxed under the knowledge she wasn’t given to histrionics. “The ground’s saturated and unstable and requires time to dry. I’m nae takin’ a chance of travelin’ on sodden earth that may give way beneath us.”
Thank all the saints this wasn’t a woman accustomed to flying into fits of temper. He had known her for less than a day but already knew she thought things through with tranquil logic.
“Ye ken the area, Liam. And as ye are more accustomed to travelin’ by horseback through this type of terrain, I canna but concede to yer wisdom.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the foodstuffs on the shelf. “We’ve sufficient food, the brook for water, and wood for the fire. We shall be fine.”
“Indeed we shall.” He found her bravado irrationally endearing. He also found the idea of spending time alone with her in this isolated cottage far more appealing than he ought to.
Dinna let yer guard down.
Truth to tell, there was much about Emeline LeClaire to admire. Not the least of which was her creamy complexion and luxurious bronze hair. Not quite copper and not quite sable, it shimmered with a light of its own. Her winged eyebrows and lush lashes were several shades darker, and combined with her doe eyes, an aura of warm richness surrounded her.
It comforted and beckoned to him in a way he couldn’t begin to understand but which slightly terrified as much as mesmerized.
She swept her unusual amber-toned gaze about the cottage before turning those beguiling eyes on him.
He recognized that redolent look, and the gnarled knot that was his stomach, pulled tighter.
It was the look a woman gave a man when she meant to ask for something. Kristin had mastered the art with dimple-producing coy smiles and a provocative turn of her neck or sweep of her hand across her ample bosom.
“I dinna suppose ye’ve a hip bath somewhere?” Emeline ventured hopefully. Bashfully.
A rosy hue mounted her porcelain cheeks, and Liam almost choked on an incredulous laugh. That’s what she wanted? God’s teeth, he’d become jaded. “Nae. We usually just bathe in the brook.” If they bathed at all, freezing cold though it might be. The men didn’t come here for comfort or niceties.
She valiantly curved her lips upward, notching her higher in his estimation.
“I shall make do with the bucket just fine.” Fingering a lock of hair, she eyed the pail. Was she pondering how to wash her hair? He could offer to help, but he didn’t trust himself to touch her so intimately.
At once, images invaded his mind of her naked before the fireplace, her pearly skin iridescent from the candles’ glow, and water trickling over that satiny flesh as she bathed.
His body reacted to the erotic conjuring, and he shifted in his seat as he gulped down a swallow of tepid tea. The next few days were going to be pure torture. He’d best keep himself occupied outdoors, cleaning up after the storm and chopping wood.
Yes. Just the thing for a randy Highlander with a beauty sharing his much-too-small cottage. Whose bloody damn drunken idea was it to build such a wee hunting lodge?
She brushed a tendril of her burnished chestnut hair over her shoulder, the movement graceful and completely unaffected. Unfortunately, it pulled her bodice tight and drew his gaze to the forbidden mounds.
Wood choppin’. Cuttin’ trees down. Stackin’ wood.
There was a bloody forest outside. He’d chop enough firewood to keep the lodge heated until the next century if it kept him out of the cottage. Kept him away from this alluring woman with her innocent, seductive eyes the color or caramelized sugar. Then, he’d fall into bed so exhausted each night, dreams wouldn’t even disturb his slumber, let alone a lithe siren enticing him in ways he hadn’t been tempted in years.
After a frigid soak in yonder stream.
They finished their simple meal in silence, and just as he was about to ask if she’d like to take a walk, she blurted, “I’m so verra sorry about yer daughter.”
Liam clasped his hand so tightly around his spoon, his knuckles turned white as he clamped his jaw against the grief that yet possessed the ability to steal his breath and stall his lungs. “She’s been gone for over five years.” He hadn’t meant to share something so private with her. He didn’t discuss his children with anyone, not even his mother or sister.
