Page 78 of An Enchanted Spring
Emma watched him closely. “Just when I think I’ve figured you out, you surprise me.”
He led her out of the lists, back to the inner bailey. “I’m a man of many secrets.”
“No kidding,” she muttered. Louder, she asked, “What else are you good at?” He gave her a searing look, and she sucked in a breath. “Aidan!”
“What?” he asked, all innocence.
“Can you show me the moat?” she asked, changing the subject.
He pulled a face. “By the saints, why would you ever want to smell such a thing?”
“Because it’s areal moat!” she replied, her voice tinged with glee. “It might be my only chance to ever see one!”
“Once you get closer to it, you’ll be glad it’s the only chance.” He grudgingly pulled her through the inner bailey, under the portcullis (which she stared at for well over a minute) and through to the outer bailey. He helped her climb the battlements and she glanced over the side.
“This is stunning,” she said, awed.
“It’s wastewater,” Aidan said, disgusted.
“Not that!” she replied. “That.” She pointed out to the village and sea beyond.
They stood for a moment, both captivated by the view. Before her impromptu trip to Ireland, Emma never saw such natural beauty before; the closest she ever got to nature was Westchester County. She hadn’t even visited the Jersey shore
A cold wind blew her hair around her, and she shivered. Aidan moved to stand behind her, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
Before she could voice a complaint, he leaned down, and in a low voice said, “On a full moon, if you were to stand on the battlement and send a wish out to sea, legend has it that your wish is carried on the waves until such a time when it can be granted.” The timbre of his voice rumbled through her. “Others believe that if you cast your wish to the sea, it holds it safe until your soul mate can retrieve it.”
“Have you ever sent a wish out into the sea?” she asked. She felt him nod. “Was it ever granted?”
He tightened his grasp on her as another wind swept across the battlements. “Aye”
She tore her view from the water to turn in his arms. She searched his eyes for a moment. “You’re a complex man.”
When his lips touched hers, another wind whipped up, and she bridged the distance between their bodies. He slid his tongue into her mouth, tangled it with hers, and she felt herself fall into him. Her heart sped up while everything around her slowed, and he wrapped her in his cloak, creating a cocoon for just the two of them.
Eventually, he pulled back from the kiss, but Emma refused to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see the emotion swirling in his, but more importantly, she didn’t want to reveal the emotions in hers.
“Coward,” he whispered, a smile in his voice.
“Self-preservation,” she shot back, though she buried her head in his chest and breathed him in.
He merely held her tighter.
Chapter 15
“All finished, my lady.” Camille, one of the chambermaids who spoke a peasant’s form of English, smoothed the silvery gauze over the dress and stepped back to admire her work. “You look lovely. Such golden hair!”
Emma self-consciously patted the elegant pile atop her head. “Are you sure it’s acceptable to leave it out like this?”
Camille gathered up various things around the chamber. “Aye. Lady Bri dislikes wimples. Laird MacWilliam’s given us the option to wear them or not, as is our preference. Truly, we are blessed to be part of such a happy clan.”
Emma chewed her thumbnail and glanced out the small window again. “All the women in the courtyard are wearing them,” she pointed out nervously.
“Those be the older ones, my lady. If you prefer, I can find you one. It shouldn’t take but a moment.” She pulled open the door to find Bri, poised to knock. “Oh, Lady MacWilliam! I was just going to find a wimple for Lady Perkins. Excuse me.” She bobbed a quick curtsy, but Brianagh stayed her with a hand on her arm.
“It’s quite common to wear a wimple only if you wish to,”Bri said, echoing Camille’s statement. “We’re not alone in this practice. It happens more often than you think…or may have read about.”
Emma hesitated, still uncertain. “Well, if you think it best.”
