Murray was a man of few words. He would be considered a dour Scot except for the smile he beamed out on everyone. He had more friends down the pub than any man in the Highlands, though he rarely spoke to anyone.
Jamie raced upstairs and washed hands and face in his old bedroom that welcomed him with its familiarity. He heard Evie’s step once he’d finished and went out to find her studying the portraits that lined the lower hall, many of them painted by Uncle Mac.
She gazed up at the family portrait Mac had done when Megan had been about three. Beth sat serenely on a chair, Megan with her red-brown curls, chubby on her mother’s lap. Belle, a few years older, leaned on the chair near Beth’s hand. She was a little more serious than sunny Megan, but her intelligence showed on her face. Mac had caught her well.
Ian Mackenzie stood behind this group, his large hand resting on Beth’s shoulder. He gazed straight out of the painting, his golden eyes holding strength and quietness. Mac had painted his younger brother with much affection.
Jamie was on the opposite side of the chair from Belle. Six years old, he stood on sturdy legs, arms folded, grinning out of the picture. He wore a Mackenzie great kilt that sagged about his knees, a black jacket, and a bonnet holding the crest of the Mackenzies.
“I considered myself very grown up,” Jamie informed Evie as he halted behind her. “Ready to take up a claymore and conquer the world.”
Evie didn’t pull away from his closeness. “I see a hardy young fellow very sure of himself.”
“I was robust. Sure of myself … not always.”
Evie turned to face him, her eyes soft. “Is that why you went around the world, seeking adventure?”
“Seeking something.” Jamie daringly rested his hands on her waist. “I had to come home to find it.”
Evie’s lips parted as though she wanted to ask him what. Jamie stilled the question by kissing her.
He’d made himself stay away from her for days, and it had nearly wrecked him. He’d had nothing but erotic dreams about Evie since the day he’d touched her by the river.
Now her mouth was once more beneath his, her tongue slipping between his parted lips.
Jamie’s self-control snapped. He hungrily took her mouth, hands supporting her head, her hair silken against his fingers. One day he’d strip out every hairpin and pull the glossy dark mass over his naked body.
Evie made that exciting noise in her throat, meaning her surrender was near. Jamie stepped against her, thighs to her hips, wanting to take her down to the stairs and drive himself into her.
She’d open to him, as wet and needy as she’d been when he’d pleasured her. He’d go slowly at first, carefully, so she wouldn’t be hurt.
Then he’d teach her. Every position, every technique he’d learned in his life around the world—he would show her. He’d watch her yield to passion, dissolving under his hands.
Evie’s lips were hot, her mouth seeking. She clung to the lapels of his coat, all anger in her gone. Sorrow had gone too. Frenzy and need remained.
Murray’s heavy tread was the only thing that brought Jamie back to the present. With him came the clicking steps of the dogs, less exuberant now, but panting and happy.
Jamie eased from Evie, lowering her hands from his coat just as both dogs careened around a corner and scrambled toward them.
Evie eagerly bent down to pat them again.
“Let’s venture outside,” he said. “It’s too rare a day to stay in here, and the dogs will have farther to roam.”
Evie gave him a nod and Jamie led her out, past Murray, whose smile had turned to a knowing grin. Cheeky sod.
The garden, Beth’s pride and joy, encircled three sides of the house. In the weeks of Scotland’s short summer, Beth would be here on her hands and knees, planting, weeding, tilling. The gardeners had learned to let her do as she pleased but were ready to lend help when she asked for it.
As a result, this patch of land was lush and thriving, with not only flowers but vegetables and greens that found their way to the supper table.
Evie loved it, he could see. Her face glowed with delight as she took it all in, the mountains a perfect backdrop. Jamie led her to the sunniest side of the house, where benches and tables had been set.
He handed her to a white-painted iron bench and sank down beside her. Neither spoke as the breeze played, bringing with it the scent of fresh flowers and newly turned earth.
Evie tilted her head back, letting the sun warm her face. Her mouth was relaxed, lips quirked in a little smile.
“What are you thinking?” Jamie asked quietly.
“Mmm?” Evie lifted her head and opened her eyes, the blue of them like mountain columbines. “I was thinking I was happy. That I haven’t been in so very long.”
“Ah.” Jamie forced his gaze from her, pretending to take in the woods that opened from the base of the lawn.
Evie’s tone changed to concern. “What is it? You sound sad.”
“Sad because I have to leave you.”
“Leave?” Evie asked, perplexed. “To go where?”
Dare he believe she was distressed? “I have many things to do. Things that will take me out of Scotland, maybe to the Continent. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“Oh.” There was no mistaking Evie’s alarmed hurt. She tried to remain collected, but her voice shook. “I see.”
“I will be back, though.” Jamie turned to her fully. “How could I stay away from you, love? But I think you ought to go home. I brought you here—to Scotland and Kilmorgan—so you could find peace.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Which you have.”
Evie pulled from him. “So, you’re sending me away?”
“Not sending you. You go where you please. But yes, I think it’s time. Go back to your family. Live your own life. Learn to be Evie.”
The hurt increased. “You think I’m hiding here.” A swallow moved her throat. “Perhaps I am. Here I can breathe, I can laugh. I’ve finally woken.” Her eyes were moist, but they narrowed. “I don’t have to obey you, Mackenzie.”
“No,” Jamie said impatiently. “You can do whatever you bloody well please.”
Evie rose to her feet. “Oh, certainly, if what I bloody well please is exactly what you want me to do. You believe I should go home, so off I must flit?”
Jamie rose, her fiery temper coupled with his anger making him randy. “All right then, go back to Kilmorgan and drift around its many halls. Do what the devil you like. I thought you’d like to see your mum and sisters again, and the dogs you said you missed. But I’ll dismiss the carriage I arranged, and send word to the maids at Kilmorgan to unpack your things.”
“You packed my things?” Evie’s words rang through the colorful garden.
“Not myself.” Damn it all, she was the most maddening woman. “I was trying to do something nice for you. Pardon the hell out of me.”
“Nice? You ordering me about, deciding what I will and won’t do? Humiliating me by letting me declare myself, and then patting me on the head and telling me what I feel and don’t feel?”
“You are still angry at me for refusing you?” Jamie demanded. “When you know you only asked me as a salve for your past? I was right, wasn’t I? He’ll do. Why not?”