Page 36 of The Forbidden Lord
“All I’ve seen is Edinburgh and the land surrounding it,” he responded, “but it wasn’t to my taste. I prefer our simple English meadows. They’re not quite so …wild and unpredictable.”
She flushed at his reference to her behavior last night. He was still convinced she was an impostor, and now he was bent on exposing her publicly. Heaven help her.
“Haven’t been to Scotland myself,” Pollock interjected, determined to jump into the conversation. He cast Emily an oddly possessive glance. “What’s it like?”
“Yes,” Jordan said coolly, “do tell us what it’s like, Lady Emma.”
Emily went blank … until she caught sight of Lady Dundee, looking out of one of the upstairs windows. Bits and pieces of what the countess had told her floated into her mind, spoken in the woman’s homesick tones. After all, what was a place but what one saw in it? Lady Dundee had made her see Dundee Castle and its lands with perfect clarity.
She gazed up at Jordan, but in her mind, she looked into Lady Dundee’s face, heard her wistful voice. “Scotland as a whole? I can’t begin to describe it all. But Dundee Castle in Campbell Glen, where we live, stands at the top of a grassy hill with slopes as soft as silk that careen down toward a perfect, clear lake.”
“The Scottish call them ‘lochs,’” Jordan said dryly.
“Yes, of course. I didn’t think you’d know that, being English.” She went on. “Beyond the loch is a craggy mountain where we played as children. The wind and rain have carved the rocks into fantastical shapes, so that it looks like gargoyles watching over us when we swim.”
“Swim?” Pollock said. “Isn’t the water too cold for swimming?”
“Most of the year, yes.” She stared off in the distance, lost in the tales the countess had spun for her. “But in the middle of summer, it’s warm enough. Even Mama swims then. And when the sun sets behind the hill, reaching out its fingers of gold and crimson as if to clutch the earth close a bit longer, there’s no place lovelier.”
“It sounds beautiful,” a female voice said. “Like something out of a dream.”
Only then did Emily realize she’d drawn the rapt attention of several of the ladies.
Jordan rolled his eyes. “Yes, like something out of a dream. Or a fairytale.”
Mindful of her audience, she said, “The Scottish who live around Campbell Glen do claim that fairies live in the forests beyond Dundee Castle.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “If you venture into the woods at night, you can see them, like a thousand fireflies, swirling in circles with their tiny, gossamer wings.”
When Jordan snorted, the women glared at him, then moved their chairs closer to her. “Do tell us more. You’veseenthe fairies?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” The general sigh of disappointment led her to add, “But I’ve seen traces of them, of course. Circles in the grass on the hillside.”
“How lovely,” a young woman gushed. “I’ve always thought Scotland the most romantic place.”
“Which only demonstrates that you’ve been reading too many farfetched tales by that idiot Walter Scott,” Jordan said.
“Have you no romantic feeling in you?” the woman retorted. “Can’t you see how such poetry and stories enrich the soul?”
“Yes,” Emily said mischievously, “have you no romantic feeling in you, Lord Blackmore?”
“Blackmore doesn’t have feelings at all, much less romantic ones.” Pollock lounged back in his flimsy wooden chair. “He doesn’t even believe in love. Just last night, he told me love was a fickle emotion for fools to indulge in. Ladies, you see before you a man incapable of romantic feeling.”
Emily’s gaze shot to Jordan.
“Pollock has caught me out, I’m afraid.” Jordan’s voice was as chilly and black as a coal cellar in winter. “I don’t waste time on poetry and ‘romantic feeling’ and such nonsense. As for love, it’s a luxury I can’t afford. I’m much too busy to waste time on spurious emotions.”
“Then your life must be dreary indeed,” Emily said sincerely. “Life is worth nothing without such luxuries. I pity anyone who has no time for them.”
His eyes narrowed to slits, yet she didn’t regret her words. Someone should have said them to him long ago. He shouldn’t go through life believing himself above the very human emotions of his fellow men and women. No wonder he had a reputation for coldness, for being completely controlled.
Every eye was on the two of them now, but Emily ignored their audience, assailed by a profound curiosity to know what had shaped him into this ice figure. It must have been something very tragic. Or perhaps he was just the rare creature born without the urge to love. If so, she pitied him even more.
When the silence stretched out and became awkward, Pollock suddenly said, “Lady Emma, would you take a turnwith me about the garden? I don’t believe you’ve seen Lady Astramont’s roses yet.”
Dragging her gaze from Jordan, she cast Pollock a smile. “I certainly haven’t. I’d be pleased indeed if you would show them to me.”
Pollock offered his arm and she clasped it eagerly, glad to escape Jordan’s dark looks and bitter opinions. But as they walked away, Jordan called out, “Lady Emma?”
She halted and turned her head to look at him. “Yes?”
