Page 17 of Her Magnificent Mistake
He would have been lucky to have her in his life these last years, for more than just the occasional visit or shopping trip. And she seemed sohappyto finally have a place and a home…
Well, ye cannae undo the past, but ye can make certain the future is worth living for.
The horse had slowed to a walk once more, and Hawk couldn’t blame her.Hewasn’t in any hurry to return to the stables, then to the house, then to the study. Each step would take him away from all this fresh air and into the stolid role of a baron. It was why he’d stolen away this morning to visit Pook’s Glen.
He’d left his mount tied beside the burn and begun the climb on foot hours ago. It had been invigorating to feel his kilt flapping about as he bounded up the stone steps two at a time, smell the breeze blowing through the pines, marvel at the bright purple rhododendron blooms, and be surrounded by the sound of the rushing water as it tumbled from on high.
Christ, he loved that place. His place.
Not even the tumble he’d taken—a bruised thigh and a scrape on his knee—could diminish that love. If anything, it had only reminded him of many childhood escapades. His feet hadalwaysbeen too big for his body.
But eventually his stomach had told him it was time to return to reality, and he’d marveled once more at Grandda’s improvements which made it so easy to trot down the mountain once more.
Why, the stream was so accessible, someone like Lady Mistree would be able to make the hike!
Don’t think of her. Then you’ll think of Marcia and what you lost and?—
One of the fluffy clouds above floated in front of the sun, and Hawk impatiently pushed up the brim of his brown hat—the one that was too large—so he could see the road ahead. He was approaching the front drive to Tostinham, and it looked as if…
Aye. There was a carriage before the portico. Guests.Damnation.
Frowning, he nudged the horse into a trot, standing in the stirrups to get a better view, kilt fluttering around his thighs.
His first thought was that Allie had invited a friend for a visit, but she’d made no mention of it. For that matter, she’d made no mention offriendsin general, and he wondered—not for the first time—how many she’d made at school. If she’d managed to make any.
Perhaps ye shouldnae have sent her away?
He snorted at his own guilt.Guilt, guilt, guilt. The theme of the day.
He’d made the right choice about Allie. Was he supposed to have raised herhimself?? By the time Stephen had died, their parents were gone and his brother’s wife’s family insisted the girl was Hawk’s responsibility. He couldn’t have dragged her up to Lairg and his forestry work, could he?
Nay.Nay, he couldnot.
Shaking his head, he pushed aside the nagging voice whispering that Allie might have preferred it, and focused on the carriage currently disgorging its occupants. A man in a proper hat and gloves, a woman dressed as a maid, and…
He would recognize those auburn tresses anywhere.
Hawk sucked in a breath and attempted to swing down from the horse before it had stopped moving, resulting in him hopping about with his boot stuck in the stirrup for a few embarrassing seconds.
“Marcia,” he whispered, stumbling toward the carriage like a man in shock. Which he was.
What was she doing here? And why wasn’t she wearing her hair bound up the way she normally did?
Normally? It’s been ten years. Her style had likely changed.
But she hadn’tfeltany different, when he’d held her in his arms at the ball.
He cleared his throat. “M-Marcia? I mean, Lady Marcia, welcome.”
When she whirled about, the smile on her lips, thejoyin her expression…well, it bloody near knocked his breath from his lungs.
“Hawk!” she cried, reaching for him. “We came, as invited!”
He was supposed to respond, he knew it. Likely this was the first rule of polite conversation: when someone says something to you, you respond. That was Conversation for Beginners, wasn’t it?
But she’d taken his hands in hers—Marcia, Marcia was here—and he could do nothing besides grip them like a man dangling from a cliff.
Because she wasn’t wearing gloves.
