Page 21 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
She straightened her skirt, wishing she’d worn one of her new dresses today, but she didn’t want to take the time to change.
Skirts swinging, she took the same path Bessie had, avoiding the kitchen for the garden door, stepping down into the long rectangular lawn with heart beating and her breath coming too tight.
He wasn’t there.
Had she misunderstood? Had he given Bessie a message that the girl hadn’t understood? Was he waiting for her somewhere else?
The door to the shed at the end of the garden suddenly creaked open. She grabbed her skirts in both hands and flew down the flagstone path.
Suddenly, he was there, tall and handsome, his eyes twinkling. By his presence, he forever changed the garden into an enchanted place.
“You’re here,” she said, feeling foolish and too young.
“At last,” he said.
“Were you away?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I had to travel to Edinburgh on business.”
“I hope it went well,” she said. How inane she sounded. Perhaps it was better than saying what was truly on her mind.
Don’t go away again without warning me. Let me know when you’ll be gone, so I’ll know how many days to prepare myself for sorrow.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, and her heart tripped over itself. In violation of every societal rule she’d been taught, she placed her hands on his arms. She stood too close. She leaned toward him.
“I’ve missed you as well. Every day has been a month long.”
He didn’t speak, and neither did she. They were comfortable in each other’s silences, and it was so restful to be with him in one way and so tumultuous in another.
He made her feel things she’d never felt.
She wanted to be kissed. She wanted to be held. She wanted to know if an embrace was as wondrous as all the poets said it was. She wanted to know, most especially, what happened afterward.
Would kissing him ease this uncomfortable ache? Would it rid her of this craving to touch him, to stroke her hands over his broad shoulders and down his arms to measure the incredible breadth of him? She wanted to lay her cheek against his chest, marvel at the beating of his heart, thanking God all the while He had sent Macrath into her life.
“I turned to look every time someone entered a room,” she said.
“I stored away a dozen stories I heard, thinking you would want to know what was happening in that part of the world.”
“I wanted to talk to you about Gladstone’s speech.”
They smiled at each other.
“Will you be going back to Scotland soon?” she asked, her earlier fear returning.
“I think so, yes.”
She tried to remain calm but the pain bit through her composure.
He’d never come out and said the words, but he’d given her to think he loved her. How could he now speak of leaving her?
“You would like Scotland, I think.”
She only nodded, feeling numb.
“Will you come with me to Drumvagen, Virginia?” he asked, catching hold of her hand and drawing her back to him. “Will you be my wife and love me as I love you?”
Her heart was beating out of her chest. In a moment it would fly away like a suddenly released bird.
