Page 23 of Hard-Hearted Highlander
At least not that night.
No, he’d found himself instead thinking first of those orphaned children, and then of the woman with the dark hair and hazel eyes and deep red gown. Or rather, he’d thought of the way she’d glared at him. With disdain. As if she had the right to disdainhim.Somehow, the maid and the children became tangled in his muddied thoughts. He was angry that she could possibly find fault with him when there were two children working in the scullery because of the English forces.
The cold eventually sent him inside, long after that haughty littleSassenachhad left Balhaire, long after the candles had been extinguished and everyone had gone to bed. And then he’d tried to sleep.
It was impossible.
It puzzled him—how could a man desire sleep so utterly above all else, and yet be unable to achieve it? But between his perpetual anguish and the hazel eyes burning their disdain into his mind’s eye, he’d slept very little. Frankly, he wasn’t certain if he’d slept at all in the last two days.
And now had come the day he’d be forced to take the chit riding.
Why did women believe it such a bonny pastime to amble aimlessly about the countryside? Even when he was in good spirits he chafed at the futility of such exercise. And, naturally, his family distrusted him so completely that Catriona had once again been dispatched to chaperone him. She was leading the charge, and she determined a picnic was the thing. She’d asked Barabel to prepare a basket for them. A picnic!
“It’s a bonny day,” she’d said when Rabbie had complained. “She will like it.”
Rabbie didn’tpicnic.
Aye, but he’d resigned himself to it. Even his father had lost patience with Rabbie’s surly apathy, chastising him this morning for having left the room the other night without bidding their guests good-night.
Truthfully, Rabbie had lost patience with himself. It wasn’t as if he enjoyed his state of mind, but it was beyond his ability to affect. He struggled to shepherd his thoughts in a brighter direction. He couldn’t seem to move them at all. It was as if a boulder had been placed before him, and until he could push it away, he was destined to stand still. No matter what he did, no matter how he prayed or swore that this day would be different, he could not move that boulder of melancholy. It grew bigger and heavier every day.
And today was no different.
He was to meet Catriona on the road. She’d gone to call on their father’s cousin, whom they called Auntie Griselda. Quite unfortunately, she was failing. Catriona was especially close to Zelda, and visited her every day. While he restlessly waited, his thoughts spinning, Rabbie had ridden to the cliff above the cove. Now, here he stood, his toes just over the edge.
The tide was out, and from his vantage point he could see how the color of the water below him changed from green to dark blue where it deepened. If he leaped, spread his arms, he would sail out far enough to land in that hole. If he weighted his pockets with rocks, he would sink so far below the surface they might never find him.
He would disappear, like Seona, never to be heard from again.
The task of picking up rocks seemed too complicated and tiring.
Rabbie sighed, then wondered after the time. It was morning yet, the sun not fully overhead. Catriona would be furious with him if he was late. Not that Rabbie cared. He almost welcomed her fury—it served to test the boundaries of his desolation. He longed for something that would force him to feel anything other than rage, or despair, or the worst—absolutely nothing.
His only saving grace, he supposed, was that he did not want to find that thing at the expense of his family. He had told himself that his sole task today, the one thing hemustaccomplish, was to ride with the English lass to Auchenard, a hunting lodge that belonged to Daisy’s young son, Lord Chatwick. It had been entrusted to Rabbie to keep in good repair until Ellis had reached his majority. It was scenic, Catriona said. The girl would like it, Catriona said.
A wind suddenly gusted up from the cove, pushing him, lifting the hem of his cloak and his hair, which he hadn’t bothered to put in a queue. Rabbie quickly stepped back from the edge, his heart pounding with the abrupt surprise of that gust. And yet, wasn’t that what he’d wanted? For a gust of wind to topple him from this ledge?
He didn’t want to think about it, not now, not with the task upon him, and turned away from the edge of the cliff. That’s when he saw her. The maid with the penetrating hazel gaze.
She was standing down the path a few feet from him, from where she could plainly see him. How long had she been standing there? Had she understood he was contemplating the end?
His question appeared to be answered when she abruptly turned and hurried down the path, her gait awkward. It was a moment before he realized she was running from him. It disconcerted him almost as much as the idea she’d seen him at one of his worst moments.
Rabbie pivoted about and stalked to his horse, threw himself on her back and galloped after the maid, catching up to her quickly.
She tried to step off the path when he rode up behind her and she stumbled, righting herself awkwardly. She whirled around, her hands fisted and her arms held at her rib cage, as if she thought she might be forced to fight him.
He reined the horse to a halt, staring at her in confusion. Surely she did not think he would physically assault her. “What are you about? Why are you here?”
“Why?”she repeated, sounding incredulous.
“Do youspyon me?”
She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon!” she said hotly. “Ofcoursenot! I was having a walk.”
He glanced at her feet and noticed that beneath the hem of her gown, she was wearing thick, clumsy boots that must have been at least two sizes too large for her. “Why did you turn and run, then?”
She hesitated. She unclenched her fists and folded her arms. “I didn’t...” She dropped her arms. “I won’t dissemble,” she said, lifting her chin. “If you must know, Mr. Mackenzie, I didn’t want to speak to you.”
