No, no, that’s not how he would have gone about it at all. Instead, his gaze would linger on her lips, his desire unmistakable, his need for her undeniable. She would lick her lips, tempting him to imagine what else she might do with her mouth. Then he would lick his lips…
“Enough with the lips,” Margery would cut in, rolling her eyes. “Just kiss the man already!”
“Are you all right, darling?” her mother said, interrupting her thoughts. “You seem a bit red in the face.”
“Do I?” She fanned her face with her hand, feigning innocence. “’Tis a rather warm afternoon.”
In truth, it was fairly cool.
Thankfully, her mother went along with it, however knowing her gaze.
“’Tis rather warm.” Mother eyed the location, her gaze sentimental. “You always did love this spot, daughter.”
She wondered if her mother recalled the numerous times she, Greer, Julianna, and their father had picnicked here.
“Yes, ’tis a nice spot,” she replied, not sure what else to say. How she truly felt.
Although she loved this area, something about her mother being here right now left a sour taste in her mouth. Her presence reminded Greer how she'd left and never returned. How they all did.
“I should get back,” she murmured, forcing the words out when she would rather flee without saying anything. Flee before she grew too upset and said things she might regret.
“Must you?” Mother’s pained gaze turned her way. “Why not stay and enjoy the view with me? We need not talk if you prefer the silence.”
“No.” She said goodbye to Teagan in passing. “I must get back.”
Fortunately, her mother didn’t stop her, and she made it to the kitchens without seeing anyone else, most especially Bartholomew. The children’s mother, Ada, was the only one she ran into just outside the door.
Greer gestured at the basket and smiled. “Some extra herbs for cooking if you need them.”
A small woman with bright red hair and fiery blue eyes, Ada was like bright sunlight dimmed by storm clouds. Repressed and unable to shine as she should. One could see how lovely she was, but like Greer, she was bound by those around her. Imprisoned in a life where she didn’t belong. That was probably why they got along so well. Or, for that matter, why Greer smiled at all.
“Ye know I dinnae need more herbs.” Ada eyed the basket, then glanced in the direction of the river with amusement. “But then I imagine ye needed a good reason to tromp off alone with our handsome new arrival.”
“I was not tromping,” she defended.
“Aye, more like floating on thin air.” Ada chuckled before she grew serious. “’Twas good seeing ye smile like that.”
She’d been smiling? “You make me smile.”
“Aye, but not nearly enough.” Ada’s eyes twinkled. “And not nearly like that.”
“I did not realize I was,” she murmured before something occurred to her, and she frowned. If Ada saw them so clearly, who else might have?”
“’Twas only me who saw ye, friend,” Ada said, guessing Greer’s unspoken concerns. But then she had a gift for that sort of thing. “I think yer bigger concern should be how much ye spoke with Margery on yer stroll.” She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “Though mayhap ’twould not be such a bad thing for the braw lad to meet her upfront.”
“I…she…” Greer cleared her throat, knowing better than to claim she talked to herself to Ada. “I spoke with her very little.”
“What does she think of Teagan?”
“You know his name?”
“Aye, I know everything that happens around here, mistress, and well ye know it.” Having obviously talked to her children, she winked. “Even about yer warrior-hero.”
God love them; they were chatty children.
“Margery likes him.” She gave Ada a look she couldn’t misinterpret. “And it just so happens he is a hero.”
“Och,” Ada murmured, understanding what Greer implied. For, Besse would have told her why Teagan was their “warrior-hero.” Hope flashed in her eyes before they dulled with resolve. “’Tis nice to think he might be our savior, friend.” She shook her head. “But unless he has an army at his disposal, ’tis impossible as far as I can see.”
“Whatever he has,” she lowered her voice, lest others overhear, “he seems determined. As if he wants to help no matter what it takes.”
“Then, we can only hope he has an army backing him.” Though emotion simmered in her eyes, Ada stayed strong. “I know yer uncle intends to get coin for my children. As to his plans for me, I think we both know where that will lead.”
She did, and didn’t like it one bit. The way he looked at Ada lately was telling.
“I will speak with Teagan again soon,” Greer assured, “and find out how he intends to go about things. If, perhaps, he has fighting men who might help.”
When Ada nodded and looked at her hesitantly, Greer frowned. “What is it?”
“I was thinking mayhap ye should come along, too, if he gets us out of here.”
“I could never,” she began before Ada cut her off and whispered in her ear exactly why she might want to reconsider never.
Chapter Seven
“She’s furious at me.” Cecille lowered to the bench after Greer left. Her shoulders slumped. “And she has every right to be.”
“Aye, mayhap,” Teagan conceded, joining her. “But only because she doesnae understand everything that happened. She doesnae know ye went to Scotland for treasure to start a new life and waited to come for her because ye had no choice.”
“Did I not, though?” She frowned and shook her head. “I could have found a way here sooner. I could have…”
She trailed off, knowing full well it went the only way it could have. They had needed Edmund's help, and he hadn't been available any sooner.
“Ye need to be upfront with Greer as soon as possible,” he counseled. “To give her hope, if nothing else.”
It had taken everything in him not to tell Greer what he knew. To make it clear, she would not, so long as he lived and breathed, remain behind if she took part in getting her friends out of here. He would not have her harmed by Bartholomew and Randolph.
While Randolph was no good, he suspected the man she was about to marry was even worse. Teagan might be damaged from the war, but he was still an excellent judge of character.
Men like Bartholomew found their self-worth from degrading those they felt beneath them, which would, undoubtedly, apply to his wife. More so her than anyone. Worse yet, he highly suspected, having come across monsters like him in the war, the bulk of her punishment would take place in the bedchamber.
“You want Greer gone from here, don’t you?” Cecille said softly, pulling him from his thoughts. “You like her?”
“I do.” Rather than satisfy her romantic notions, he remained practical. “I think we understand each other and would get along well.”
“Understand each other, is it?” Mirth flickered in Cecille’s eyes. “What precisely do you understand about her? That she’s in need of saving? Or perhaps that she’s as haunted as you? Because surely it’s not her beauty, gentle nature, or kind ways.”