Page 38 of Waiting for a Scot Like You
“I’m so glad we saw this,” she said as she looked down at the mosaic. She resisted the impulse to dig the toe of her boot into Jove’s tiles because she would not destroy them, much as she sided with Juno. “I’ve learned that you cannot hope happiness finds you.If you did, you’d wait forever. Opportunities present themselves—to find joy, to help someone—and we have to take them. We have to take them, or we lose those chances to truly live.”
She’d almost forgotten that she wasn’t alone until she heard Duncan say, “That makes sense, then.”
Beatrice looked up at him. “What does?”
“Trying all the food at the inn. Stopping to help at the sheep farm.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Seeing this ruin. All these decisions and impulses. It’s a way to create happiness.”
Something leapt within her at his understanding. “The only guarantee I have is my own will.”
“It’s why you’re going to Nottinghamshire and that...” He cleared his throat, his cheeks reddening, but he continued. “That party.”
She pressed her fingers to her lips. Unable to keep the surprise from her voice, she said, “You know about it.”
“Overheard you talking with Miss Bradbury. It sounds very... energetic.”
“That is my wish.” She lifted her eyebrow as she waited for his censure. Not that his approval did or did not matter—she was long past seeking validation from anyone—but it wasn’t every day that an extremely disciplined soldier learned that an aristocratic widow planned on a week of almost continuous sexual activity.
“I hope...” His voice was low and gravelly, but courteous. “I hope it meets your expectations.”
Of all the people to appreciate why she did what she did, she had not anticipated it would be this man, here on this hilltop, amidst the crumbling remains of an ancient belief.
“As do I,” she answered. “And if it doesn’t, I’ll find something that does.”
“I’m certain you will.” He spoke with conviction, as though his belief in her was resolute, and that pleased her.
She walked to the edge of the rise. From here, the view was indeed a marvel. The rolling hills were painted in shades of green, dotted with purple shadows from the massing clouds, and stone walls outlined fields like panes of stained glass. Rooftops were scattered across the landscape, and they could see the very top of a church spire.
“Strange to look at a view like this and not calculate troop positions,” Duncan said beside her. It was incredible how noiselessly he could move, another of his many skills acquired through the most hostile situations imaginable.
“I cannot imagine what it must be like to have seen battle,” she murmured, “and then come back to this.”
“Disconcertingis too mild a word for it,” he said. “They’re both real, that world and this one, but when I was fighting, I could scarce believe in ballrooms and bucolic farms. Now that I’m here... I thought I’d find it to be peaceful.”
“But you don’t.” She trod cautiously. The truths hegave her could not be easily offered, and she had to treat them with care.
“I keep thinking that if I dothisand thenthis, if I follow a regular pattern and stick to known quantities, then I’ll feel... aligned.” He made a noise of frustration. “I’m furious with myself because for all that I do, all the ways I hold tightly to how things are supposed to be done, I’m still adrift.”
Owning this about himself could not be easy, and her heart swelled with the knowledge that he’d given her this trust.
“Extending grace to ourselves is one of the hardest things to do.” Her eldest son held himself to such exacting standards, and she’d often comforted him when she would find him in frustrated tears. He’d been an independent child, insisting he could button his own breeches with his chubby little fingers when he’d moved into boys’ clothes from a baby’s skirts.
“And yet,” Duncan said, looking toward the horizon, “you made a choice after the earl’s death. It would have been easy to retreat into someplace comfortable, someplace stagnant. You didn’t.”
He brought his attention—his every ounce of focus—to her, and her breath caught. “The choice you made, to explore and discover, that’s the harder one to make. Yet that’s what you did. You chose the courageous path.” His gaze was warm with admiration.
They neared each other, pulled toward one another with irresistible force.
She took a step closer to him, drawn by that power. “I want to kiss you, Duncan.”
His jaw flexed as his eyes darkened, sending a quake of need through her. “We shouldn’t.”
She swallowed, pushing down disappointment, yet she had to respect his choice. “I understand if you don’t want to.”
“I saidwe shouldn’t. But I want to,” he rumbled. “God, how I want to.”
Her pulse went mad, thrumming along her body. “I’ve adopted a motto these past three years. If there’s something that I desire, and if it hurts no one, then I do it.”
“Not so simple,” he said lowly—yet his gaze burned her.
