Page 45 of It Happened in the Highlands
“All of this was in good humor,” he said softly. “The vicar expects no reward.”
Her cheeks reddened prettily and her eyes flashed reproachfully as she slapped his knee and smiled. Time again ticked backward for him. She’d often acted exactly this way any time he’d tease or fluster her. Wynne recalled how he’d then pull her onto his lap and kiss her, begging her forgiveness.
He was tempted to do it now. This was the first time they’d really been alone since their kiss in the garden.
Her flushed skin matched the color of the rising sun, and she leaned toward the window. He wondered if she too was recalling those bygone moments.
While she was distracted, Wynne studied her profile. The shape of her face, from the high cheekbones to the fullness of her lips. She was more beautiful than his memory served. His gaze moved to the dark curls escaping the velvet hat and slipped lower to the dress, momentarily lingering on her breasts. He’d felt their fullness when he’d brushed his fingers over them in the garden.
The two of them were close in age, but not in experience, he was certain. He’d been married. And during the years before and after his late wife Fiba, he’d had liaisons with women. Wynne’s gaze once again moved over her body, her face, her parted lips, and he wondered if it was possible that she was still as innocent as she’d been years ago. It made no difference to him. Her passionate response to his kiss stirred that desire in his loins even now. She’d wanted more, as he did.
He shifted in the seat, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts and the reaction of his body. He needed to put his attention elsewhere and quickly found a topic more potent than any other to curb his body’s wanton response.
“Your brother,” he said. “Viscount Greysteil, Lord Justice of the Commissary Court in Edinburgh. Does he know I serve as governor at the Abbey?”
Her dark eyes relinquished the view of the rolling hills and turned to him. “Dr. McKendry failed to mention you when he first communicated with me.”
“He was acting upon my recommendation. But since your arrival, you’ve sent a number of letters to Baronsford, have you not?” He cocked one eyebrow, waiting for an answer.
“Does it matter to you if my brother knows?”
Wynne patted the seat. “I always travel with a brace of pistols, so I’m prepared, just in case he decides to pursue you here. Greysteil missed my heart the first time. If he has a second chance, he might not feel so generous.”
He was joking, but Jo’s eyes clouded at the memory. “I thought we weren’t going to speak of the past.”
“That was before,” he said softly. “Now I find it unavoidable.”
Her brows knitted, and she returned her attention back out the window.
“I didn’t blame him then. I don’t blame him now. He was defending your honor. If I was gifted with a sister like you, I would have done the same thing.”
She continued to sit in silence, but Wynne knew he didn’t have days or weeks or months to pursue her. She could decide tomorrow to leave the Abbey, and he’d be left with only memories and regret. This was his opportunity to speak.
“My manner of breaking our engagement was badly done. Leaving you a letter instead of meeting with you and telling you in person—”
“Did you know Hugh lost his wife and son during the war on the Peninsula?” she interrupted, her voice grave. She was forcing a change in the topic. “They died of camp fever.”
Wynne knew this. His sister-in-law sent him not only news of Jo. He was also regularly informed of Greysteil’s successes and losses.
“He suffered terribly. The entire family mourned their deaths for years.” Her words were marked with sadness. His reference to the past reawakened more than just the tragedy of their own separation.
“This past year, however, another chance at happiness came into his life. He’s married again, and he and his wife now have an infant daughter.”
Studying Jo’s imploring look, he nodded and accepted her entreaty to cease his attempt to speak of their break, at least for now. She wasn’t ready to have the wound of their past reopened. At the same time he knew neither of them could fully mend until the scar had healed.
“Is it true,” he asked instead, “that his new wife arrived at Baronsford in a crate?”
Relief reflected in her eyes and in the smile that suddenly graced her lips. “Who are your spies, Captain Melfort? How could you know this?”
“My brother, John, and his wife purchased Highfield Hall near Baronsford not long ago,” he explained. “They are not among the Penningtons’ circle of friends, justifiably, but there is very little news of you and your family that doesn’t reach me through their letters.”
“Then you must know about Gregory’s marriage too?”
“That must be fairly recent, for I hadn’t heard it. I only learned of it when you told the Squire and Mrs. McKendry that your younger brother now lives in Sutherland.”
Perhaps he wouldn’t mention this inhisletters. His sister-in-law was well aware of the history between the Melforts and Penningtons. She understood why they were the only family in that part of the Borders who were not invited to Baronsford’s summer and Christmas balls. Nonetheless, her disappointment at being excluded from the more public celebrations of the viscount’s wedding in the village of Melrose came through clearly in her letter. It wouldn’t be very kind to tweak her nose about this wedding as well.
The carriage rolled on, climbing higher into the hills above the Don river valley, and Jo appeared preoccupied with her thoughts as she gazed out at the rugged forests and gorse-covered countryside. Still thinking of his brother, John, and his wife, Wynne now pondered their repeated invitations to bring Cuffe south to Highfield Hall. They wanted him to meet the rest of his family. They had a son who was twelve, or thereabouts, and a nine-year-old daughter. A fortnight ago, he would never have seriously considered bringing them all together. Now he was actually feeling quite sanguine about it.
