Page 21 of In Love With the Wrong Highland Sister
Gavin watched her as she left the room, then his eyes shifted to his brother, who was eating his food with an expression of rapt concentration on his face. Presently, James looked up. Gavin raised his eyebrows in a question, but James ignored it.
“M’Laird, may I take one of your horses out for a gallop today?” James asked politely. “Your big gray gelding looks as though he could do with some exercise.”
The laird thought for a moment. “Do you mean Charlie?” he asked, frowning. “Are you sure? He is a very spirited horse and has been known to throw inexperienced riders. There are plenty of other horses who need a gallop.”
Gavin laughed, patting his brother on the shoulder. “My brother is not inexperienced! He has ridden bigger horses than Charlie and still remained in the saddle.”
“Is this true?” Lady Margaret asked, her hazel eyes wide. “I am deeply impressed. Laria has a great fondness for riding too. She has some notion about starting her own horse breeding enterprise, but I think it is a pipe dream. Who would buy horses from a woman?”
“I would,” James replied promptly. “Especially from Laria. I have seen her work with horses, and she is truly gifted.”
“That is true,” the laird agreed, smiling. “She is one of those fortunate people who excels at whatever she turns her hand to.”
They finished their meal a few moments later, and Eloisa returned with the news that Laria had eaten her breakfast and had gone out for a ride.
“She is not in a very good mood,” she told her mother with a worried expression. “I have not seen her so upset since Robbie died.”
Lady Margaret sighed. “You were lying to me about her monthly courses, then?” she asked, at which point all the men stood and left the room.
“Yes. I did not want to tell you in front of the gentlemen,” Eloisa answered, sighing. “I don’t know what has been troubling her lately, Mother, but she is not herself.”
“It is just past the anniversary of Robbie’s death,” Lady Margaret observed. “Perhaps remembering the day itself is hard for her, but at least she has cast off her mourning clothes. Send her to see me when she comes back, Ellie. It is time we had a real mother-to-daughter talk.”
* * *
One year earlier…
Robert Davison stretched and smiled as he looked at the sleeping figure beside him, wishing that he could stay in bed forever. There was a cozy fire in the fireplace, soft woolen blankets on the bed, and the body of his wife, Laria, who was nestled in the crook of his arm, was lending him her warmth. He had never been so content.
When Laria opened her eyes, she looked straight into Robert’s and smiled at him. “Good morning, Robbie,” she said softly, her voice still husky from sleep. She could never quite believe that she was here, married to a man who had been desired by so many women but had only wanted her.
He kissed her soft, warm lips gently, and a moment later, they were stroking each other, biting, kissing, nibbling, sucking as their limbs tangled together; they gave expression to the deep love they felt for each other. They moaned, whispered, and cried out each other’s names, and as Robbie entered her, Laria felt as though she was the most treasured woman on Earth.
However, although she was always warm and contented afterward, she could not help feeling that something was missing, that there was something she was striving for that she could never quite reach. Perhaps she was selfish or expected too much, or perhaps it was her inexperience, but she was never quite satisfied, except in the matter of love. Their love was like an overflowing river, there was so much of it.
“Do you think we will ever grow tired of each other, Robbie?” she asked.
There was a note of worry in her voice, and he hastened to reassure her. “Never,” he said firmly. “I will love you ’til the day I die.”
His words were prophetic because three weeks later, Robert Davison was dead.
* * *
Everyone said that time healed, and that may have been true for them, but more than a year had passed, and Laria’s heart ached every time she thought of Robbie and his eyes in the last few moments of his life. So sad, yet so loving.
Laria had been utterly certain that she would never love another man the way she had loved her husband, yet what was the strange warmth she felt whenever she looked at James?
It was certainly a physical attraction from both sides, she knew that. Whenever he touched her, he set her on fire, but it was more than that. Laria could see by the way he treated the servants and the guards that he was respectful and caring, and he had a unique sense of humor.
She had heard, too, of the way he had treated Laird McCann, showing him and his daughter far more consideration than he deserved, and she had a sense that he would protect her from anything or anyone that tried to come between them.
Laria urged her horse into a furious gallop and did not slow down until he was panting and sweating. She turned his head for home, and they ambled back slowly, arriving at the castle as the noonday sun was at its zenith. She climbed from her horse wearily and decided that now would be a good time to go for a nap, but it was not to be.
As soon as she left the stable, she saw Eloisa and Gavin walking along the corridor to the atrium together. Their heads were close, and they looked as though they were enjoying a secret joke that only the two of them shared. Laria felt a stab of jealousy. Eloisa could not marry James, she thought. She was far too much in love with his brother.
Something told Laria to keep out of sight, so she withdrew into the stables until they had passed. Looking at Eloisa and Gavin had made her heart ache so much she could hardly stand it.
* * *
