Page 26 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
He swallowed around the lump in his throat then he shook his head wryly. “Should hae kent.”
“So…” She stopped herself from rocking on her heels with the anticipation building inside her. “Would ye be interested, in taking me to the loch, I mean?”
His brow quirked while holding the rest of his roll, “Is that somethin’ ye want?”
“I dae,” she said, dipping her eyes. “I mean, if its nay too much of an imposition.”
“Of course nae,” he said, looking around. “If ye want, we can go now.”
The temptation was strong, but she did not want to take it on so quickly; instead, she looked around for a seat and spotted a crate. “Before we dae, can we talk for a moment?” She went to the crate and sat. “Why dae ye like horses so much?”
He let out a breath that was chased with a soft laugh before he sat on the floor and rested his arms on his bent knees. He was so close the tips of his boots brushed her feet. “Nay one has ever asked me that. Everyone just takes it as a foregone fact that I love horses more than anything else.”
“Dae ye?” she asked.
His head swiveled to her with a shake. “Nay…well, nae entirely. There is nay complexity with horses. They’ll like ye or nae, but the one thing I’ve found that when they’re loyal to someone, they’re loyal to them for life. It's more than some people.”
There was a story behind that, but Violet was not going to pry. “I befriended a squirrel once. I found him half-frozen in the snow one winter and took him in, warmed him up and fed her all through winter. When I let her back the next spring, I’d wake up and find a pile of nuts on me back doorstep every day. It continued for a while but then stopped. I supposed it had gone away and found a mate. Six months or so later, I saw three baby squirrels skipping through me yard and could only smile. Animals can be loyal.”
Charmed by his crooked smile, she almost lifted her hand to touch his face, but stalled, before daring to trace her fingertip over the scar that nearly bisected his eyebrow. The moment she touched him, he shivered. It was barely there but she felt it.
His brow, smooth light brown hair, was grown out but the paler skin, above and below his brow, told her a cut had been there, “Did ye fall or…”
“I did fall,” he said, tilting his head upwards. “From there.”
Looking up, she realized that there was a tiny ledge built above them, about three or four feet wide. “What we ye doing up there?”
“I cannae tell ye,” he shrugged. “I was a boy and probably doing mischievous boy things. After I fell, I went unconscious. I was told a stable boy found me and rushed me back to the castle. When I woke, me head was on fire. I wished I could pluck it off me shoulders and set it aside.”
The image of a headless Ethan had her both grimacing and giggling at the same time. “How old were ye?”
“Old enough to ken better,” he said, getting to his feet and extending his hand to her. “Care to take that ride now?”
Sliding her hand into his, she smiled at the feel of his large, roughened hand. “Lead the way.”
* * *
When Ethan helped her off the horse, she did not see him, only felt his touch at her waist. Her eyes were pinned on the Loch Obha. It was a wide swathe of cobalt water, flowing peacefully for miles beyond. Standing on the grassy bank, she gazed at the greenish-gray hill far off, the slope of the nearer hills that led down to the waterway. Her eyes flitted to the dock of boats, ranging from small to hulking, lined up on the dock, then at Ethan’s extended arm.
Taking her hand, he guided her down the muddy slope. “Watch yer step. Have ye ever been on a boat before?”
“Nay,” she said with her eyes on the ground. While holding up the tail of her dress, she added, “I should have worn me breeches.”
“Aye, ye should have—”
Her foot suddenly lost purchase on the patch of soil underneath it and as she floundered backward, arms grabbed her from beneath her back then under her knees. When the world straightened itself, she was in Ethan’s arms and cradled to this chest, right next to his bared collarbone.
His skin smelled lightly of olive soap and river water and she hung onto him while he carried her to the boat without any discernable strain. When he stepped onto it, and it swayed with their combined weight, she grabbed his shirt in fright.
“Calm ye,” he said in her ear. “I’d never drop ye.”
His softly muttered words evoked a nervous shiver to run over her skin and fed the dormant hope for something more between them grow in her heart. As Ethan set her down on the seat, she watched as he fixed the sail, untethered the tie and picked up an oar.
“Ye might smell salt as there are two lochs, just over yonder, that carry in the sea’s water from time to time,” Ethan said as he rowed.
Violet’s eyes went from the shifting blue water to the rhythmic stroke of the oar to Ethan’s powerful arms and the move of his shoulders. A lock of his hair was lingering over his eyes and she wanted to reach out and smooth it away, but she was fearful of leaving her place. Moreover, her white-knuckled hands, grabbing unto the seat were not brave enough to let go.
The water was tranquil and once or twice she saw the swift silver dash of a fish before it vanished. Ethan did not take her into the middle where she imagined the water would be so deep that she would only see darkness. Instead, he stuck to the shallower banks, where she would see bleached white river stone and mottled sand.
