Page 87 of Never a Duchess
She lifted her proud chin. “I’m sure I’ll adapt, Your Grace.”
“There ye have it, Dewart. We’ll stay in the woods and use the gamekeeper’s cabin for supplies.”
“Aye, Yer Grace.” Dewart closed the gates then busied himself lighting two lanterns, giving both to Callan. “Mr Jenkins checked the paths last week.”
“Did he clear the area near the pool?”
Dewart nodded. “He scouted the woods for half a mile or more, though little grows at this time of year.” He handed Lillian a wicker basket. “Mrs McClintock prepared a supper for two like ye asked. There’s wine but nae glasses. I trust it will be to yer satisfaction.”
“Aye, I’m sure it will.” Callan thanked his man. “We’ll leave ye to see to the horses and will return at dawn. Dinnae enter the woods.” He’d not have the man stumbling upon an amorous scene. “Ring the handbell if ye need to raise an alarm.”
Holding one lantern aloft, Callan told Lillian to follow him along the dirt track running parallel to the boundary wall. “It’s a ten-minute walk, but stay beside me. Ye’ll nae stray from the path.”
She must have heard the thread of panic he could not suppress. “Are you afraid I’ll pick something I shouldn’t, Callan?” Her reassuring hand came to rest on his back. “You’ve not told me what happened the day your mother died, the day of the accident.”
A fire ignited in his chest—flames capable of razing a man to the ground if he didn’t keep his wits.
He glanced at Lillian. While they had dealt with death differently, neither wished to revisit the haunting memories. And though they had made love and taken pleasure in each other’s bodies, barriers still existed between them.
“One mistake in the woods changed everything,” he said solemnly. Life was cruel. Fate dealt cards like a drunken croupier, casting them here and there with nary a thought to the consequences. “I’ve nae come this far to lose ye now.”
An uncomfortable silence moved between them.
Unspoken words neither had the courage to say.
He trudged through the darkness, emotions gathering in his throat. Chilling images forced their way into his mind. This was not what he’d planned. He needed her warm body crushed against his, needed to lose himself in the woman he loved, not feel the cold echoes of the past.
“It’s difficult to speak about painful memories,” she said, clutching his coat sleeve for balance as she stepped over exposed tree roots. “But you know you can tell me anything.”
I’m in love with you.
He could not tell her that.
A heavy sigh left his lips. “I want nothing to spoil our time together.” He wanted to kiss her when his heart was full. Make love to her beneath a star-spangled sky, not a thunderous storm cloud.
She gripped his arm, bringing him to an abrupt halt, making him face her. “Callan, I allowed my past experiences to affect my future prospects. You helped me realise that I don’t want to live like that anymore.”
Her gaze caressed his face. Coming up on her toes, she pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, the soft stroke warming every cold extremity.
A guttural groan escaped him. He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue over hers, drinking from her like a man at a desert oasis.
Lillian broke contact, her hand slipping from his shoulder to cover his heart. “Why come to the woods if it rouses so many painful memories?”
He shrugged as he inhaled the damp, earthy aroma, let the stillness soothe every tense muscle. “Because I feel at home here. Because I mean to conquer my fears, nae let them beat me.”
He’d not meant it as a personal attack but he watched her eyes dull, heard the hitch in her breath.
“Everyone has a battle plan. Doubtless they all have flaws.” She glanced at the darkness ahead. “But I’m quite proud of my progress. For the first time in my life, I believe I can win the war.”
God, she was so incredible he could hardly breathe.
“Ye’ve held me spellbound since the day we waltzed at MacTavish’s ball. Happen yer plan was to keep suitors at bay so one day I might claim the prize.”
Her lips curled into a smile. “You see, I’m a great strategist.”
“What if I’d grown tired of waiting?” Those months away were long and lonely. A woodcutter might fell a thousand trees to pass the time. Callan had only one focus. Being a better man than his father. “What if I’d believed ye were indifferent to my Scottish charm?”
She swallowed deeply. “Then I would have felt the loss keenly. Pretended I was protecting myself from heartbreak when I had been heading towards it all along.”
