Page 65 of Hard-Hearted Highlander
She at last she decided she would walk, and donned her boots.
A quarter of an hour later, Bernadette strode along a familiar path. Clouds were gathering, and it felt as if it might rain. She tried to clear her thoughts, but she couldn’t keep from imagining that supper at Balhaire. She simply couldn’t keep the memory of how he’d touched her from her mind. When she did think of it, her blood began to heat, and inevitably, she would feel ill with guilt and grief.
Since Albert had disappeared, Bernadette had not been so beguiled. Was there another word for what she was feeling? No, that was precisely the thing. He had lured her in somehow. How strange that at first she’d seen nothing but his cold demeanor. And then his pain. And the way he’d looked at her, then had touched her. It was stunning, really, for Bernadette had been so bloody careful since her humiliation. She had moved with great care through each day to avoid any situation that might give anyone pause, to keep talk of her to nothing. She’d gone full circle now, from the woman who never gave anyone reason to mention a breath of scandal, to one who had plunged headlong into it. She was tortured by what she’d done, and yet, she couldn’t stop thinking of him, couldn’t stop tamping down feelings about him that stubbornly rose to the surface.
It was as if she had no capacity to control her own thoughts or emotions.
She was, against all good judgment, smitten with that beast of a man. “Rabbie,”he’d said, his gaze so earnest, the need for her to say his name so evident in his expression. “I am Rabbie.”
Bernadette paused and closed her eyes a moment, recalling in vivid detail those moments under the hanging tree again...
And then quickly opened her eyes and walked on, furious with herself for having allowed her feelings to tumble so far down this path. Even in her wildest dreams, even if Avaline found reason to end this engagement, Bernadette couldn’t be with Rabbie—she couldn’t marry anyone, really, because when she’d lost her baby, she’d lost the ability to bear children. All this wishing and hoping and imagining were for naught. She was harming no one but herself.
“For heaven’s sake,” she muttered to herself. What was she doing? Why was she continuing to torment herself with these thoughts?
Rabbie would marry Avaline at the end of the week and Bernadette was a damned fool for having believed she could have stopped it. Moreover, she likely would be gone before any wedding could take place, banished to Highfield, where her father would surely beat her for what she’d done, if not worse.
When the path reached the sea, she turned right as she normally did. She wouldn’t find Rabbie above the cove today, of course not. He would be at Balhaire with his family, all of them gathered to greet the Kents.
She trudged up the hill, her gaze on the sea. The darkest clouds were gathering in the distance, and the sea was turning rough. She’d have to turn about soon. She dipped her head to pull the hood of her cloak over her head, and when she glanced up, her heart leaped to her throat—Rabbie was standing on the cliff. More precisely, on the path directly in her line of sight.
And he looked rather perturbed.
What madness had brought him here, when he ought to be dining with his fiancée and their families? Bernadette was suddenly, inexplicably angry, and ran up the path to him, her chest heaving, her breath strangled with her ire. “Have you lost your mind?” she demanded hotly. “Why are youhere?”
“You ought to be at Balhaire,” he said irritably.
“No! I won’t attend—”
“Why no’?”
“Oh, God, this is disastrous! What if someone comes looking for you? You shouldn’t be here, Rabbie! Someone will see you—”
“I donna care if they do—”
“Yes, you do!” she retorted. “And if you don’t,Icertainly do! Please, for the love of God, go to Balhaire where you belong!”
“Tell me why you didna come,” he demanded.
She was going to be sick. Bernadette could feel the bile rising up, mixing fear and guilt and pure elation that he’d come. She was thrilled and mortified—angry and confused that he was not with Avaline, but likewise relieved that he was not. What was she to do with him?
She stared at him. He was wearing the plaid the Scots had once worn, the hem of it lifting with each gust to reveal a powerful thigh. His weight shifted to one hip, his arms folded across his broad chest.
The mere sight of him was disturbingly arousing.
God in his heaven, she was as mad as he was.
“You’ve no’ answered me, lass. Why will you no’ attend?”
“Youknowwhy.”
“No, I donna know why,” he said gruffly, then dropped his arms and began to move down the path toward her.
“The better question is ‘why are you here?’ Avaline will be arriving at any moment.”
“She’s arrived.”
“For God’s sake, you are to bewed, you’re to start a new life. This is absurd!”
