Page 33 of Eloping with the Laird
‘Wait.’ He touched her arm gently, and she turned to face him. ‘I’m making a muck of what I wish to say. Truth is, I don’t understand what has happened to make you fear...coupling. I don’t have any idea how to ease your concerns. All I know is that I don’t want my wife fearful of me. But I’m also dying. My time is not my own.’
They stood staring at one another as the wind whipped around them and between them. His words echoed in her mind. One day he would be dead, and they both knew not when. Yet, she stood between his clan’s successful future and her own.
A memory of another time she’d been far too afraid to do anything seized her.
‘Moira, jump in. It shall not be easier by putting in one toe at a time.’ Ewan smacked the warm waters of the loch with his arms, sending a cascading arch of water droplets into the air.
She stepped back from the water’s edge.
‘I can’t do it,’ she pleaded in distress. ‘I don’t know what’s in there and I can’t swim. I’ll drown.’
He laughed at her, treading water in his soaked tunic and trews. ‘You’re my sister. I’d never let anything happen to you. I might steal your puddings, but I’ll always protect you. Jump!’
The trust in his gaze made her run to the bank’s edge, close her eyes and jump in. When the water began to soak her dress, and threatened to drown her, his strong arms pulled her up.
She slapped at the water, gulped in air and strained. ‘Help, Ewan. Help!’
‘Stop flailing about like a baby bird. Relax,’ he commanded. ‘Just float,’ he ordered, turning her on her back.
And the moment she’d stopped flapping her arms and panicking she had rested atop the water like a miracle. That feeling of weightlessness, freedom and the sound of nothing but lapping water against her ears as the warm sun kissed along her face had set her free. A feeling she had never forgotten. One she saved when she needed it.
Just float.
Could this be the same?
‘Kiss me,’ she whispered, the words rushing out in a flurry.
His brow lifted and his head tilted. ‘Sorry,’ he chuckled. ‘I think I misheard you. Did you say “kiss me”?’ He shifted on his feet and tugged up the collar of his jacket about his neck.
Her heart pounded in anticipation. She didn’t know if this was the worst or best of ideas to help her repair her fears, but she’d never know if she didn’t try. Her chest rose and fell. ‘Aye.’
His gaze dropped to her lips and she swallowed hard. Taking a step forward, he paused, perhaps as uncertain as to her changefulness as she. He removed his gloves and came closer, so close that she could see the tiny flecks of gold and blue amongst the light grey hue of his irises and smell the soap from his morning shave. His warm calloused fingers skimmed along her jawbone and she shivered, her lips parting to release a sigh.
He pressed a kiss along her jaw, not once but twice, and then captured her mouth in his own. The soft, warm urgency in his lips sent a swirl of heat through her, an unexpected response. She lifted a shaky gloved hand to his cheek and heard his groan of pleasure against her mouth. A moment of fear gripped her, but she remembered to float and leaned into his embrace as he pulled her against him. He deepened the kiss and her hand found its way into his soft, wavy hair. She felt his smile against her lips as he pulled back and rested his forehead on hers.
‘Perhaps we just need a bit of time to unwind some of your memories.’
She nodded. ‘And replace them with new ones.’
‘Aye,’ he answered, stepping away and capturing her gloved hand in his own. When he wove his fingers through hers and squeezed, the memory of freedom she’d felt when she’d floated whispered back to her. Perhaps if she just let go, she could wade back into the waters step by step. There was no need to jump in this time.
‘What would you like to do today, my lady?’ he teased. ‘You have an estate to see, people to meet, and a sea of future plants and books to pour over.’
She chuckled at the ease in which the morning had turned from fear and worry into joy. ‘Perhaps them all, but where shall we begin first?’
‘I think the weather demands us to return inside. The winds will only worsen until the storm blows through. I can give you the full tour of the inside of Blackmore, and then you can lose yourself in the shelves of the library while I finish up the ledgers. Hopefully the rain will pass and the wind die down for an evening walk.’
The wind ruffled her hair and she instinctively leaned towards him to block the biting gale that chilled her through her cloak. He let go of her hand, unbuttoned his jacket and pulled her under his arm, allowing his jacket to fall over her shoulder. Delicious heat and the feel of the muscled planes of his torso sent flares of warning through her. She should pull back and let go. But part of her craved his touch even though the last thing she wanted was to care for him more than what was required when he would die.
But why not allow myself comfort for a time?
What harm would come from it?
She gave in to that small part of herself that longed to be cared for and cherished, and nestled her cheek against his chest and curled her arm around his back. His side hitched at her touch and then relaxed as he tightened his hold around her waist. They walked arm in arm and the ease at which it happened startled her. While she still didn’t feel ready to sleep in his bed, her body and heart sung at the comfort of being understood, and the feel of being cared for, desired and respected that his touch provided.
A feeling she had long forgotten.
Chapter Fifteen
