Page 42 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
The sun was high in the sky behind them, and a brisk wind was blowing from the hills ahead.
Callum barely looked at the place, glancing into the corners to search for the girls and then leaning against the wall with a disinterested expression.
But Lydia had never been so high or had such a view laid out before her.
She was just tall enough to be able to see over the top. Lush green fields stretched as far as the eye could see into towering, imposing hills like great green giants hunched over in the distance.
“Well, nature is far more unbridled here than in London.”
“Unbridled?” Callum said as he stepped up behind her.
“The townhouses I have visited for much of my life had gardens with green grass like this. But it was cut short, with manicured trees and bushes on every side. Nothing was allowed to grow wild like this.”
“Aye, well, Scotland is as wild as they come.”
She stood on tiptoe, craning to see the lake below them and follow the line of the forest into the dark mountains ahead.
“Are ye nae afraid of heights?” Callum asked.
Lydia looked back at him. “It never occurred to me,” she said honestly. “I do not think so.”
The Laird was studying her quizzically, his head on one side, lips slightly parted. It reminded her of the moment he had crushed her against the fireplace and pinned her there with his big body.
She turned away, the wind picking up as her hair fluttered behind her, the folds of her dress beginning to stir.
“Here,” he said, offering his hand, stepping behind her as if she should step up onto the lower level. There was nothing but the wind and a sheer drop between her and the earth beneath.
Lydia hesitated.
“Dae ye nae trust me, lass?” he asked, but his eyes were glinting in the sunshine.
“ShouldI trust you?” she asked softly, and Callum’s head inclined forward as he took a shallow bow.
“Nay harm will come to ye while ye are in me castle. That I swear.”
Lydia stared at the wide palm stretched before her and, after another short pause, placed her hand in his.
Callum supported her weight as she climbed up onto the step in front of her, the high sides of the castle parapet bracketing her body.
As soon as she was elevated to the same height as the Laird, his burly arms went around her waist, keeping her in place.
She stared in awe at the lands before her, the sky an endless pale gray, with the edges of shining clouds scattered along its length.
Far beneath, there was a village in the valley, the only sign of any dwelling for miles. The soft bleating of sheep was carried to her on the wind from a distant field, and she could just see their tiny white shapes far below her.
“It is beautiful,” she murmured.
“Aye, it is.” Callum’s voice was contemplative, and when Lydia glanced back at him, he wasn’t looking at the highlands, but at her. His big body felt as solid as the stone around her, his arms retaining their vice-like grip at her waist.
He will not let me fall.
She looked back at the wide expanse before her, imagining how it might feel to be a dove, leaping into the air and soaring over the land and away.
How strange that I do not dream of escaping this place. It already feels like home.
Callum shifted, his hands so large they almost circled her waist entirely, lifting her gently down from the edge.
“We should return,” he said gruffly, and preceded her to the doorway down to the staircase.
