Today, however, a memory had thrust itself up into her thoughts, scattering all contemplation about Hayden.
Evie saw an angry Jamie charging at her out of the river, eyes flashing fury. Before Evie could dodge from him, large, wet hands cupped her face in a strong grip. She’d gazed up into steely blue eyes framed by damp red-brown lashes.
Before Evie could apologize or admonish Jamie for touching her—or say anything at all—his mouth had come down on hers, crushing a firm kiss to her parted lips.
Evie had tasted rage in the kiss, but also excitement and a hungry need she’d never before experienced. To her consternation, the same hungry need had stirred in her.
Jamie had kissed her thoroughly, his hands holding her steady, his wet coat damp against her rowing costume. He’d kissed her while her mates on the team had watched avidly, while Evie’s knees had gone weak, and her breath had deserted her.
He’d kissed her until she’d gasped, then Jamie had released her, brushed a thumb across her now-wet lips, and turned and walked away from her. Even now, the image of his waterlogged kilt clinging to his backside, his bare thighs flashing as he strode from the river, came to her too vividly.
Her teammates, her closest friends in the world, had watched in shock and delight. The teasing Evie had endured since that day had been merciless.
She’d seen Jamie now and again in the next year until he left Cambridge, he talking or laughing with friends, wind blowing back his academic gown to reveal the kilt he insisted on wearing. He’d nodded at her when he’d seen her, sometimes flashing a bone-warming smile, sometimes feigning fear that she might have her oar with her, as he’d done today.
Today, when he’d gazed at the ship, wind tossing his hair, every line of him strong …
The train bumped over a crossing, jerking Evie back to the present. Marjorie was watching her, her youngest sister too perceptive. Evie quickly turned her head and peered out the window at the passing countryside.
Evie was engaged to the handsome and eligible Hayden Atherton. She had no business thinking about Jamie Mackenzie, speculating on what sort of man he’d become. She especially had no business daydreaming about the astonishing kiss he’d given her years ago.
Absolutely no business at all.
Chapter 2
The first class car in the same train swerved as the train took a bend. Fleur, Jamie’s seventeen-year-old cousin, twirled with the train’s swaying and plopped herself down next to Jamie.
Her father, Daniel Mackenzie, shook his head at her. “You’d think you’d have worked off all that energy on the crossing.”
“You’d think,” Fleur echoed. “Jamie, there was so much dancing.” She pressed both hands to her pink-clad chest. “A different handsome gentleman every night. It was like floating on air. Heaven.”
Dougal, her nine-year-old brother, snorted a laugh, Daniel’s expression became quietly aggrieved, and Fleur’s mother, Violet, smiled indulgently. “The dancing was exquisite, I agree,” Violet said.
From Violet’s calm reaction, Jamie deduced that Fleur had not been in any danger of falling heedlessly in love with any of these gentlemen. She’d been pleased with the dancing and no more.
Fleur let out a long, happy sigh, then she turned to Jamie and skewered him with a knowing stare. “I’d not pin your hopes on Miss Heiress, Jamie. She’s only looking for a title. Our ducal cousins would be good enough for her, perhaps, but not you.”
“Eh?” Jamie’s thoughts were full of a laughing young woman with very black hair every bit as wild as it had been that faraway day on the Cam. He blinked a few times before he realized who Fleur was talking about. “Oh, you mean the American lady.”
“Oh, you mean the American lady,” Fleur mocked. “Of course, I do. Every gentleman was vying for her, elbowing each other aside to reach her. It was disgusting.”
“Fleur exaggerates,” Violet said in her smooth tones. “But yes, Miss Carmichael was the center of much attention.”
“Including yours, love.” Daniel’s smile when he regarded his wife held deep affection. He winked at Jamie. “Violet read her future.”
Violet flushed. “I was curious to speak to her, I will admit. I wondered what the fuss was about.”
“You should have seen Mum, Jamie,” Fleur said. “She was quite the stage fortune teller, with a husky voice and mysterious promises. Miss Carmichael was most entranced.”
“It worked rather too well.” Violet wrinkled her nose. “The other ladies onboard then wanted their fortunes read. I had to plead fatigue—what I saw for Miss Carmichael had worn me out, I claimed. Also the ship’s entertainers, one of whom was a fortune-teller himself, were glaring daggers at me.”
“And what did you learn about this lady?” Jamie asked to distract himself from his wayward thoughts.
Violet’s expression filled with sympathy. “That she is pushed forward and backward by her father and brothers and rather a pawn in their long game, poor thing. She told me she was eager to marry, and wished for a loving man with a fine country home where she could putter in the garden and find some peace. She didn’t use those last words, but that’s what she meant.”
“You are kindness itself, love.” Daniel squeezed Violet’s hand. “Always searching for the best in others.”
Violet rested a gaze on Daniel that revealed her naked love for him, which nearly twenty years of marriage had not dimmed.
Their children, intent on Jamie, did not notice. “Mum isn’t telling you what others said about Miss Carmichael,” Fleur said. “Very highly strung. Like a racehorse. They meant brat.”
“Not her fault,” Violet chided gently. “The stewards and waiters fell all over themselves to bring her anything she wanted, while other passengers signaled to them in vain. Probably the crew were obeying orders. Miss Carmichael seemed more bewildered than demanding.”
“Dad is right,” Fleur said to her mother. “You are too kind.”
“Not necessarily,” Violet said briskly. “I have learned to read people, is all, more accurately than others do. And I do not believe in dissecting strangers when they are not here to defend themselves.”
Fleur took her reprimand with good grace. “Sorry, Mum. But Jamie seems so interested. Did you see how he was staring at her?”
Jamie shrugged. “I admire a pretty woman.”
He let them believe what they wanted. Why he didn’t mention Evie or protest that Miss Carmichael didn’t intrigue him at all, he wasn’t certain. Evie was a private memory, one he hadn’t shared with his family. His close-knit, everyone-in-everyone-else’s-business, teasing, overly large, nosy family.
Daniel shot Jamie an understanding look. “Let us allow Jamie to tell us what he’s been up to while we’ve been away.”
“Yes, let’s.” Dougal bounced on his seat. “What adventures did you have this time, Jamie? Will you take me with you on the next one?”
Jamie felt suddenly exhausted. “Don’t know, lad. Might be time I was settling down.”
All occupants of the compartment stared at him in disbelief.
“You?” Dougal demanded. “Never.”