Page 44 of A Virgin for the Icy Highlander
“I will be,” he replied, picking up a lantern from the grass.
He’d spoken to the household about the unnecessary expense of having such lanterns and torches everywhere, lighting up places that no one ought to venture to at night. But, for tonight at least, he was grateful.
“This way,” he murmured, shining that amber light onto the faint white path of crushed shells that would guide them most of the way.
At his side, Grace took a shaky breath. “I trust you.”
What?
He fixed his gaze ahead, unable to look at her.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had said that to him, much less someone he had known for such a short time. His own clan questioned his judgment, though no one would never say so to his face. Yet, thereshewas, whispering of trust… andafter he had betrayed it in his study, too, by beginning something that could never be finished.
Something Thomas said came creeping back into his mind. It slithered like poison in his veins.
“Will ye permit her to have all the lovers she desires?”
Hunter had claimed it was no concern of his, at present, but after seeing Oscar buzz around her like a fly around honey, that ‘present’ felt uncomfortably close. He had wanted to knock Oscar’s head off when the man had kissed Grace’s hand, and helikedOscar a reasonable amount. HeknewOscar.
What would he be like with men he didn’t know who came to woo his bride and later his wife? What would he do if he knew she had another man in her bedchamber?
A shudder ran down his spine as icy daggers slid into his stomach.
“Nae much further,” he growled.
He opened a small iron gate, set in an archway of holly bushes already laden with their wintry red berries.
Grace shivered in the cold night, though she wore a heavy cloak of dark maroon wool. The damp of the trail had soaked throughto her feet, the shaft of lantern light giving her only a small measure of confidence that there was, in fact, a destination in Hunter’s mind.
If it isn’t fireflies, I hope it’s a pleasant lodge in the woods with a roaring fireplace.
She allowed herself a small smile, certain that Hunter couldn’t see much of her expression in the dark. A lodge in the woods actually sounded rather nice. It would be a secluded spot where anything might happen.
“Is it close by?” she asked, hoping he couldn’t hear the chatter of her teeth.
She didn’t want him to think she was too feeble for a nighttime stroll, regardless of the month or season.
“Nae far,” he said, though he’d said that what felt like an eternity ago.
I wonder if ‘not far’ means the same in Scottish as it does in English.
She stifled a chuckle at the thought. The languages were, for all intents and purposes, the same, yet shedidstruggle to understand him on occasion and had no doubt that he likely felt the same.
Perhaps ‘unacceptable’ in Scottish means ‘I want to kiss ye again, as soon as possible.’
She bit her lip, scolding herself inwardly for letting her mind wander to such improper places. But her mind wandered all the same. The darkness and closeness of him, plus the feel of his callused hand around hers, made it impossible to keep her thoughts tightly reined.
However, the terrain soon gave her something else to think about. The shadowed path, lit only by the lantern, began to steepen. Her grip on Hunter’s hand tightened until her knuckles were white, her heart racing in worry, fearing that her feet might slip out from under her and she wouldn’t be able to stop her rolling descent into the thick darkness ahead.
“Are we on some manner of cliff?” she gasped, clinging to him.
Instead of responding with words, Hunter pried his fingers out of her tight grip and slid his arm around her waist. With a rough tug, he pulled her into his side and tucked his thumb into the belt of her dress as a gesture of additional security. It seemed to say,If ye fall, I fall with ye.
“That’s better,” she muttered, breathing a little easier.
The terrain continued to play tricks on her as they walked perpetually onward, dipping and rising, twisting and turning. The ground was firm in places and uneven in others. It took every shred of dignity she possessed not to yelp and scream whenever anything brushed her ankle. Grace needed to convinceherself instead, in perfect silence, that it was just a plant or some grass and not a creature lurking in the shadows, trailing a vicious claw across her skin.
Fortunately, the years in her father’s house had taught her how to be staunchly silent, even when she wanted to explode.
