Page 80 of Sinful Scottish Laird
“Och, leannan, there is naugh’ to be done for it, is there? You must keep your head about you now.”
Her brows dipped into a dark V. “What about you? You are free to say what you like, Cailean. Is there nothing you will say? No word you will leave with me?”
What word would he leave? That he would miss her? That he was sorry he couldn’t be the man she wanted him to be, no matter how desperately he wanted to? That his heart was breaking, that it felt as if she were already gone?“Tha mi gad ionndrainn. Tha mi duilich.” I’m sorry. I miss you. “Tha gaol agam ort.” I love you. Oh, how I love you.He dipped his head and kissed her lips, lingering there, relishing the taste and feel of her mouth beneath his, fighting back the torrent of memories that were rushing in his veins. He caressed her cheek, then let her go and made himself walk on, walk out of Auchenard.
Cailean put himself on his horse, but held Odin as he pranced, eager to be on his way. He looked back to the door, where Daisy Bristol, his one and only true love, stood watching him.
He didn’t believe that he would ever see her again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My heart has turned cruelly against me.
I have mourned R for so many years only to discover now that I don’t love him at all as I believed I did, and I could never truly love him. He is much changed, or perhaps I am the one who is different, but we are no longer the least compatible. I cannot even believe he has come because he once loved me as he claims. I think he has come because of my fortune. It is only a feeling, but it grows stronger within my thoughts every day.
I have reached the conclusion that I should sooner marry a stranger than the devil I know.
I’ve not told anyone of my decision, as it seems premature. R has not formally offered for my hand after all. I will tell him once we are in London.
The news A brought is quite troubling and we all make haste in our preparations to depart. R believes A meant only to frighten him, but I believe A. He has been honest with me and I think he is now.
We are set to sail in a few days and Mr. Munro said the weather looks very fine for it.
DAISYPUTDOWNher quill, picked up the wild orchid she had cut that morning from her garden and put it to her nose, inhaling the fragile fragrance. She plucked two petals from the flower and pressed them in between the pages of her diary.
The garden has grown so; it will be so beautiful in the spring, and I shall not be here to see it. I would not have thought it possible when I first laid eyes on the terrible neglect. I am astonished at how life will flourish with the least amount of care.
She paused again, gazing outside, to her garden. It was now a riot of color; yellow and red and pink and blue and scarlet and white. She looked down at diary and dipped her quill once more.
What did A say to me? Did he speak words to pierce my heart or to hold it? It tortures me.
Torture.He’d left her with a constant pain, dull and sharp at once.
Daisy put aside her quill, shut her book and stood up from her desk. She needed an occupation. Anything to take her mind off her troubles.
She pulled a shawl around her and went out to her garden. In the potting shed, she put on her apron and gardening hat, and the gloves from which Uncle Alfonso had snipped the fingertips so that she might handle the more delicate plants. She picked up her trowel and carried on to the garden, where she got down on her knees and began to pull tiny little weeds from the dirt, one by one.
It was a glorious, sun-dappled late summer day, and yet Daisy had never felt so bereft. Her heart was heavy in her chest, and in spite of having her family with her, she felt quite alone. All of her burdens had fallen onto her, weighing her down, pressing the joy right out of her. Even her garden, with the soft music of the chimes and birds chirping overhead, did not soothe her.
She ached. Every muscle, every joint ached as if she had ague. But she was perfectly well. It was only her heart that ailed her.
After an hour or so, Daisy had cleaned her beds and pruned her bushes. She sank back on her heels and looked at her handiwork. A tear, surprising and unbidden, slipped from her eye. She swiped it away with the back of her hand.
“Daisy, my love.”
She’d not heard Robert enter the garden.
“Look at you,” he said, bending over to help her up. “Working with your hands.” He made atsksound of disapproval as he held them up for inspection. “You’ll ruin your beautiful hands with all this hard work.”
She slowly pulled her hands free of his, perturbed with his admonishment. “Hands are meant to be used, Rob.”
“Not all hands are meant for labor, and a lady’s hands are among them,” he said sternly.
Daisy removed her gloves and wiped her hands on a handkerchief. She wished he’d not stand so close. She glanced up at his brown eyes, eyes she once imagined were vast oceans of esteem only for her. She squinted at that foggy memory and blurted, “Eleven years ago, we were very much in love, weren’t we?”
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Then why didn’t you offer for me?”
