Page 47 of To Bed the Bride
He stood, and just when she thought he was going to walk away, he turned and extended one hand to her. She put her hand in his, marveling at the warmth of his palm, and stood.
“You’re freezing,” he said.
“I’m a little cold,” she agreed.
“You should return to the house right now.”
She nodded. She really should, for more than one reason.
Her conscience made her step away slightly as Bruce jumped up and off the bench. She reached for the lead, saying, “He’ll run away.”
“No, he won’t,” Logan said. “Besides, he needs to learn to remain at your side.”
“Who’s being trained, me or Bruce?”
Logan smiled. “Both of you. Next time you come, be sure and bring some treats for him. There are those who believe that punishment is the best trainer, but I’m not one of them.”
She reached into the pocket of her skirt with her free hand and pulled out her handkerchief.
“Liver,” she said, showing him. “One of the maids told me that anything that smells strong will work. I detest liver myself, but Bruce seems to love it.”
“Wise girl. And wise you for listening to her.”
The warmth she felt wasn’t wise at all.
She loved hearing his voice because it brought back Scotland to her. Her cousins didn’t sound Scottish and that was due to her aunt’s constant correction.
Instead of returning to the house, they walked together, hand in hand, for a few moments. She should have pulled her hand free, but she left it in his. For warmth only, although that excuse sounded feeble.
“Are you really going to try to avoid me for the rest of your life?”
“Our paths hadn’t crossed before, Eleanor. I doubt they’ll cross again. London is big enough. After last night I’m sure your family wouldn’t relish our association. Besides, I got the impression that you would rather I hadn’t appeared.”
“I was afraid you were going to say something about meeting me in Scotland. I hadn’t acted very proper with you.”
How odd that she found it so easy to be honest with him.
He placed her hand on his arm and together they walked to the road, keeping to the side of it. She glanced behind them and he was right. Bruce was on their heels. Still, she didn’t feel all that comfortable letting him roam free.
“If it makes you feel better you can put the lead on him.”
She did just that, and when she joined him again she didn’t put her hand on his arm. Instead, they walked close together. Anyone looking at them would think that they were a couple. A man and his wife, perhaps, or a woman and her fiancé. They might even be relatives, but she doubted anyone would guess at what they were: nearly strangers but oddly friends.
“Tell me about Eleanor Craig,” he said. “Pretend that we’ve never met. What would you want me to know about you?”
She glanced at him. “Why? You don’t want to see me again.”
“Very well. I’ll begin, shall I?” He hesitated for a moment, and she was certain he wasn’t going to speak further, but then he surprised her. “I didn’t want to be in Abyssinia. I didn’t want to die in a battle that few people knew about and even fewer would care about.”
“Isn’t that the definition of courage? To be afraid and yet carry on?”
“I’m not a hero. I was trying, most of the time, to figure out how not to die.”
“I think anyone would feel the same, don’t you? Or do you ask more of yourself than most people would? Do you have to be better than anyone else?”
“Yes.”
Surprised, she glanced at him again. “Why?”
