Page 51 of Deception and Desire
Mrs. Douglas squinted at Fenella, who now looked up with a radiant smile on her face. The older woman beamed. “Weel, it’s about time!”
“Does that mean ye agree?” Why could women never just answer a question?
“Of course I do, ye blunderhead,” she admonished, smacking his arm. “I expect ye back on Sunday to say a proper goodbye to us all.”
As Lachlan rode away whistling, the dappled mare ponied behind Charlie, he made himself another promise. He would make surehisFenella became that confident, witty woman he was falling in love with—permanently.
Chapter Fourteen
Honeysuckle and Homecoming
Late June 1819
Fenella’s lips trembledas she forced a smile.Drat!She’d promised herself she wouldn’t cry. He would be back in a month. His thumb rubbed her chin, sending a ripple through her center as he tipped up her face.
“Ye ken I’ll be thinking of ye every night?” He kissed her nose. “There are some matters I must tend to at the castle, things I left unsettled.”
She nodded. He’d spoken vaguely of commitments and promises to the clan. Though she didn’t doubt he cared for her, words of love had never been spoken between them. It was silly, of course. They’d barely known each other two months. Her brain told her to let fate take its course, the words would come. Yet, she longed to tell him what was in her heart. Those three words she’d never heard her parents say to one another.
Another cruel voice whispered in the back of her mind.What if he doesn’t return?What if his family was against a betrothal to a Sassenach?He has made no declarations of marriage, she scolded herself.Just enjoy this last evening.
With a deep breath, she met his gaze. “I wish you a safe journey. Grandmama has promised to make shortbread for your return.”
“Weel, there’s one reason to return posthaste,” he murmured and gripped her waist, settling her against his length, her legs fitting neatly between his. “Any other reasons ye can think of?”
Fenella grinned. “There might be one or two, but I won’t tell you until August.” She loved never having to bend her knees or hunch her shoulders any more. He was a perfect height for her, a few inches taller, enough to make her feel feminine. Yesterday he had picked her up and swung her around, and she’d felt light as a bird. How would she get through an entire month?
His lips feathered her neck with kisses, then his teeth tugged on her earlobe. As she closed her eyes, his lips brushed and teased hers. She opened her mouth, shivering at the slickness of his tongue as it swept her mouth. Heat pooled low in her belly, and she wondered how it could be better than this. Could one die from pleasure?
“I’m coooming,” hollered Grandmama seconds before she stepped into the back garden.
Fenella pushed away, her face on fire. When she looked up, she found her wicked Scot grinning. “Have you no shame?” she hissed, but a smirk tipped her lips.
“No’ when it comes to ye, my sweet.” He bowed and kissed her hand.
“Dinner is ready, so come in for yer last meal with us. We’ve some fine halibut and fresh greens.” Aileen shut the door, and they were alone again.
“Shall we invite Ian in your stead?” she asked as he drew her hand into the crook of his arm. Her bottle-green dress matched the same stripe in his dress kilt as it brushed against her skirt, his sporran bobbing lightly while they walked. Her fingers gripped the hard muscle of his arm, and she longed to feel him beneath the linen.
“Ye might ask him once or twice, but he has business to attend to before he leaves again. He’s proposed a trip to England. He wants to look at new power looms in Manchester.” He kissed her temple. “Colin would appreciate the continued invitations. I think he’s grown quite fond of Rose.”
“She’s grown quite fond of him too.” She stopped as he bent and pulled the small dagger from his stocking. “Will you write? Should I?”
Her stomach dropped as he turned his back to her. He began cutting at a piece of honeysuckle vine as he spoke.
“I’m no’ much on scratching words on parchment, lass. Ye’re welcome to send me a letter, but the time it would take me to scrawl a few lines back to ye, I could be knocking at yer door.”
“Hmm… that’s a much more sensible idea.”
Lachlan handed her the thick vine covered with fragrant yellow flowers. “Woodbine is a favorite of my Ma’s. She says if ye wear it, ye’ll dream of yer true love.” He plucked a bloom and tucked it behind her ear. He bent and whispered, “Put it in a pocket or somewhere close to ye tonight when ye go to bed.”
She caught her breath, hope surging in heart. Whether it was his closeness or the fact he thought of her in bed, it did not matter.Thosewere the words of a lover.
*
Rose brushed outFenella’s hair in long even strokes. The lovely evening had passed too quickly. Her chest was tight with anxiety over what the next month would bring. To be exact, what Lachlan’s return would bring. His words made silent promises, but distance could be love’s enemy.
“What’s on your mind, dear? You certainly don’t seem like a woman in love.”
