Page 25 of Hard-Hearted Highlander
She gasped at the implication of that. “At least she is trying!” she shouted at him. “That is more than can be said of you!”
He was furious now, but it was a different sort of fury than he’d felt in the last year. It was not the feeling of hopelessness that pervaded each and every day—this was a feeling of righteous indignation. “How is it that a servant of a baron’s household may speak as she pleases? Is there no one to muzzle you?”
He saw the rage flash in her eyes. She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t follow me,” she said, her voice shaking. “I don’t want the company of your ilk—I don’t want to speak to you, I don’t want toseeyou.” She whipped around and began to stride away, her gait clumsy in boots too big, her arms swinging.
And just like that, Rabbie’s rage turned into a strange swell of amusement. She looked perfectly ridiculous, striding along as she was, her arms flailing, her hair bouncing out of its pins and those boots clumping against the path.
He nudged his horse to walk beside her. She refused to look at him and kept her gaze fixed straight ahead. “Come, now, Miss Holly,” he said impatiently. “You canna avoid seeing me, can you? I am to Killeaven now. You may ride—”
“No!”
“Donna be so bloody stubborn—”
“Stubborn! I’m protecting myself fromyou.”
“You donna honestly believe the things that are said of Highlanders, do you? Are the lot of theSassenachdaft?”
She stopped so abruptly that he had to yank his horse’s head hard to the right to keep from walking into her. “I don’t know what is said of Highlanders, Mr. Mackenzie. When I said I was protecting myself from you, I meant I was protecting myself from the violence I very much want to inflict on you at the moment. I am asking kindly if you will please ride on and leave me be.”
“Suit yourself, woman. I donna care what you do.” He reined his horse and rode on, not bothering to look back.
* * *
THEMAIDHADclearly taken a long route to Killeaven, for she’d just come on to the drive when Rabbie and Catriona arrived. As they rode in behind her, she stopped walking, turned around after a bit of hesitation and smiled at Catriona.
She did not look at him.
“Feasgar math,”Catriona said, hopping off her horse. She looked at Bernadette curiously, her gaze falling to the boots.
“Welcome, Miss Mackenzie,” she said, still ignoring him.
“Are your feet as big as that?” Catriona asked, clearly baffled.
The maid lifted her chin slightly. “I find my shoes are too delicate for the hill walking here. One of the footmen was kind enough to lend me a pair.”
“Pity, that. We had a cobbler in Balhaire, but he’s gone now.”
“Thank you, but these are quite all right. I’ll inform Miss Kent you’ve come.”
She spoke stiffly and formally—much more civilly than she’d spoken to Rabbie. Which was ironic, wasn’t it, seeing as how she placed such importance oncivility.
“Please, come in,” she said, marching ahead.
Before she reached the door, the butler appeared, calling for a stable hand, and then briskly instructed him to saddle a horse for Miss Kent. When that bit of business had been done, he bowed and said, “May I show you to the salon? Miss Kent shall be down momentarily.”
“I won’t wait long,” Rabbie warned his sister in Gaelic.
“Uist,”Catriona said, silencing him.
They followed the butler inside. Miss Holly followed them, too, her boots clomping across the marble floor. She stepped just inside the room and stood near the door, her hands at her back. A thick strand of dark hair had come completely undone and draped her collarbone. Rabbie glanced sidelong at that long length of hair and imagined how it would feel between his fingers. Soft and silken, he imagined.
She seemed to notice the hair, too, and tried, unsuccessfully, to tuck the hair behind her ear. It fell over her collarbone again. That action, no matter how slight, was so innately feminine, and on some level, so endearing, that Rabbie felt a madness rise up in him, equal parts lust, anger, and perplexity.
He did not want to feel that madness in him. He wanted to walk out of this room and disappear into the vastness of the landscape. He wanted to be as far from this woman as he could be, but today’s task made that impossible. So he paced before the hearth, impatiently slapping his gloves against his bare hand.
“You appear entirely mad to all who might reside here,” Catriona said in Gaelic. “At least put the gloves away.”
She was right—he looked as if he might explode into bits at any moment. He clasped his hands and his gloves tightly behind his back and continued pacing.
