Page 18 of Highlander's Sinless Nymph
Edward snorted and shook his head. “It’s nay wonder ye ended up lost in a wood, Charlotte,” he said––and Charlotte found herself enjoying the way that he pronounced her name. “Ye’re away with the fairies again,” he finished.
“I bet you could tell me what sort of fairies too,” she said, teasing him.
“Aye, maybe I will, if ye come and meet me tomorrow,” Edward replied.
Charlotte saw that there was something shining in the depths of those brown eyes. She thought that it might be excitement, though excitement at what she could not hazard a guess. She had listened to enough kitchen gossip growing up in Brodenstone Manor though, to have an inkling as to what the young man might have in mind.
I cannot do this.
She ran her eyes over the physique of the man standing in front of her, waiting for her answer as patiently as if he had been carved from stone.
Those arms…his face…his lips… Why shouldn’t I do this? Never have I done anything wild and foolish.
“I assure ye, Miss Bolton,” Edward said, “me intentions are strictly honorable. If ye really are as interested in the healin’ arts, herbal medicine and getting’ to ken the flora and fauna found in these lands as ye seem, then there is much I can teach ye––even in the space of a mornin’.”
Ah, a perfectly innocent and gentlemanly explanation.
To her surprise, she found that she felt a modicum of disappointment about this. Still, it helped her make her decision. If this Scottish hunter-gatherer was offering her his skills and expertise, then it would be churlish of her not to acquiesce to his suggestion.
She lay her hand on the cold stone of the boulder, which let her know she was only a minute or so from the entrance to the secret tunnel. Then, turning and looking the Highlander squarely in his daunting eye, she said, “I would be delighted to meet you on the morrow, but...”
“But what?” Edward pressed.
“My father, he barely lets me stray from his sight. He is worried that enemies will seek to abduct or harm me to get to him, you see.”
Edward glanced away and he nodded. “Aye,” he said, looking back at her, “I could see why that might be a concern.”
“And, who can say,” Charlotte said, with an attempt at a smile, “there might be men out there more vicious than he is.”
Edward nodded again, his face falling.
“But––but I shall try.”
The words surprised even Charlotte herself, even as they left her lips. They rung true, though, and she knew that she would try to get away for the morning if she could.
Edward smiled then. It was not as full a smile as she thought him capable––it was as if something held him back from expressing his true keenness––but it was a smile nonetheless.
“Grand,” he said.
Charlotte smiled warmly back at him. In doing so, she realized that she had not smiled genuinely at someone for quite some time.
“I must go,” she said. “If I am missed, my father…”
Edward nodded. “Aye, I understand.”
Charlotte thought she saw pity in the rugged man’s face.
“Well, if ye can get away, I shall be waitin’ fer ye from sun-up in the glade where ye were mauled.” He grinned roguishly. “Follow the river and ye shall nae miss it.”
Charlotte nodded and turned away. When she looked back, the Scot was already fading into the night.
“Wait,” she suddenly hissed, “what is your last name?”
From out of the night, Edward’s answer came like the whisper of wind through the heather.
“Perhaps I shall tell ye that,” he said, “if we ever see each other again.”
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