Page 37 of The Scottish Bride
“After we eat,” Gilchrist said, “we should leave for the abbey.”
“Aye,” Liam agreed, as Dame Brown returned with a tray holding wooden bowls slopping over with steaming soup, which they quickly discovered was hearty with shredded meat, barley, and vegetables.
“I am sorry to have disturbed your plans,” Tamsin said.
“The weather did that more than you,” he said. “We are glad to help. We will get you safely where Comyn cannot reach you, and then be on our way.” Liam tilted his ale cup, dark liquid and slight foam remaining. In part, he would welcome a chance to confront Comyn over his treatment of the lady. She would have been safe, with no need to escape, if Setons had been at Dalrinnie still.
He would have treated the lady respectfully and tenderly, as she deserved. The more time he spent with her, the more he felt awed by her intellect, her fortitude, her courage. Still, he felt distracted by her beauty, by her sweet curves and warmth, bythe intangible allure he sensed when he looked at her. He was thankful to find her—
Stop,he told himself. He broke an oatcake, dragged it through soft butter and took a bite. If anything, he must find out what she knew of books. That was all.
He watched as she slipped a scrap of meat to the dog under the table again. “You like dogs,” he said. “And books, I think. There are excellent books on raising hounds that might interest you.”
“My father had such books, but nothing on dogs. He did have an excellent book on falconry, however.De Arte Venandi cum Avibus.I read that.”
“I too read it years back. I found the Latin slow going.”
“I managed it, though my French is better for reading, and I have a little Greek and Hebrew as well. I copied parts of the falconry volume as a gift for my father when I was a girl. I have a good hand for writing,” she added, seeming shy about it.
“You had an exceptional education.”
“My siblings and I were taught together by a priest at Kincraig. You have brothers,” she said. “Sisters too?”
“Two brothers, one sister. She was educated with us and often outpaced us, to our great humiliation. One of my uncles is a priest and he was our tutor in those days. He was a tireless taskmaster, and we had him for confession as well.”
She laughed softly. He liked the sound. The urge to tell her more about his family, about himself, swamped him for a moment. But that would be unwise.
“You are so fond of books that you brought a parcel of them away with you.” He indicated her bag on the floor with the other things. “Do you have a favorite?”
Frowning, her lush lips pinched thin, she seemed to consider it. “I am partial to histories,” she said. “And tales of Arthur andhis knights and so on. I rather like the tale of Tristan and Iseult. Do you know it?”
“Oh, aye. The harper and the king’s woman, runaway lovers fleeing evil to be together—a good story. I am fond of poetry and verses too. Songs and such.”
“I sometimes write verses. But not very good ones.”
“Did you bring those with you too?”
Her glance seemed cautious. “I have a little book of hours for prayers and a few others that I could not leave behind. I do not know if I can ever return to Dalrinnie.”
“I would take you there if I could,” he said impulsively. “Home to your books.” Unlike him. A step too far into pretty chivalry. His nature was reserved, an observer, even a grouser. He did not easily dole out charm and compliments, though he managed the pretense while in the guise of the harper.
Lady Tamsin was having a strange effect on him. He wanted to please her, to see her smile. He had not felt that way about a girl since adolescence. Even Beatrix, his father’s choice for him, sweet as she was, had not stirred him as deeply as this woman seemed to do.
“We share a love of books, sirrah.” Her smile was quick and warm, like a sunbeam through a cloud.
“We do.” They shared a love of Dalrinnie too, he realized. He smiled as well, which he did not do often these days. Then he caught himself. He was sinking fast. Best haul himself free. “Pardon me if I seemed to pry. We are strangers traveling together along a cold mile. Our paths may never cross again.”
She frowned as if distressed and glanced away. “True.”
Strangers.Liam felt a hard tug inside when he said it. He barely knew her, but she did not seem like a stranger. He felt comfortable in her company. Alive and strong, keenly interested in her thoughts, her life—
But she was not a lady to court. She was the means to get what he wanted. What he needed.
He sat back to put a little distance between them. She distracted him, with her silvery irises and rosy curved lips. The tousle of her fine-spun hair.
And he was increasingly aware that she roused in him an urge that was very physical, yet beyond it too. He needed to protect her, to know her, to be with her. That was dangerous. Soon he would have to betray her over that damnable book and the home she seemed to love. Best to remain aloof.
“Our paths may never cross again,” she repeated. “But I am grateful.”
