Polite. Distant. Reserved.
Only, her deuced pulse and heart, not to mention every inch of skin, responded in such a foreign way when in his proximity, she was hard put not to stutter and fumble as if inebriated.
For several minutes, they walked in companionable silence. Undoubtedly, he also had much on his mind. For instance, explaining the presence of a strange woman with him when he arrived home days later than anticipated.
Spying a white-breasted, gray-green bird with a black collar perched atop a pine branch, she pointed. “What type of bird is that?”
Liam squinted, looking to where she indicated. “’Tis a crested tit, also called a crestie.”
“’Tis so pretty. Is that whose song I’ve been hearin’?” She put a hand to her brow to shade her eyes, and peered up at the small bird.
“Probably,” he agreed amiably. “They’re generally quite shy but abundant in this area.”
Closing her eyes, a fleeting smile curving her mouth, Emeline breathed deeply. “It smells wonderful here. Clean and invigoratin’. I thought the same while I was visitin’ Berget. I dinna miss the city’s stench and cloyin’ odors. Edinburgh is so verra crowded, and it smells most awful.”
“Och, that’s true enough.” He helped her over a fallen tree. “Life in the Highlands is no’ easy, but her people are hearty and unwillin’ to exchange this life for anythin’ else.”
His wife hadn’t been. But then again, she’d been a Sassenach. Maybe she’d never been able to adjust to her new home or the Highlander she’d wed. Some might consider Liam gruff and intimidating, but from the moment Emeline had met him, he’d been considerate, if not entirely affable.
A few minutes later, they reached the opening he’d spoken of at the edge of the woods. The tall expanse of trees parted onto a vast, sublime expanse. Purple and pink heather yet colored the lush emerald hillsides, but the storm’s damage was evident as well. As far as she could see, branches had snapped and many trees had toppled. Where the river had previously rambled sedately on its tumbling journey to the ocean, yesterday’s torrent had ravaged the banks, leaving mud and debris in its wake.
Her attention focused on the destruction, Emeline scrutinized the scene before her.
Liam had exaggerated the devastation, and it was obvious why they couldn’t leave yet. She pressed her palms to her belly to quiet the ponies prancing there. They might very well be stranded longer than three days. Smothering the wave of apprehension cresting in her stomach, she asked, “Where’s yer home from here?”
“There. Beyond that hill.” He turned slightly and extended his forefinger due west.
She glanced at him, uncertain and hesitant. “Liam?’
He slanted a brow questioningly.
She wet her lower lip again, and losing her nerve, stared out over the horizon once more. “Would ye…? What I mean is…I’ve been thinkin’ while ye were outside…” Good God. She couldn’t form a simple sentence.
Lips pursed, she blew out a frustrated breath. Squaring her shoulders, she met his gaze straight on. “I wanted to ask if ye’d consider accompanyin’ me to Edinburgh.”
A hawkish, raven eyebrow rose another inch, his features turning as flinty and unyielding as his eyes. “Why?”
The clipped word held more than inquiry.
Suspicion and doubt? Distrust, for certain. And if she wasn’t mistaken—and she was fairly certain she wasn’t—accusation too.
He was a man who didn’t trust easily. But then, his wife had given him good reason not to. Still, wasn’t it obvious why? He’d make her spell the reason out in spades?
She planted her hands on her hip, giving into her vexation. “Well, I canna verra well go by myself, now can I? It would be too dangerous to traipse about alone, and I ken nae other man I can ask.” Oddly chagrined, a rueful smile bent her mouth as she sliced him a side-eyed look. “I truly dinna have many friends and nae male acquaintances at all.”
A look of pity temporarily softened his countenance.
How she loathed those solicitous glances.
She knew what people thought. Had heard the whispers behind her back at the few functions she was invited to and permitted to attend.
By-blow. Born on the wrong side of the blanket. Child born without benefit of clergy. Illegitimate granddaughter to a count. Bastard.
“I’m also convinced that if there’s anythin’ that will reveal who the men were who tried to kill me or who might’ve hired them, I’ll find it amongst my aunt’s things in Edinburgh,” she offered, taking care to soften her tone while not sounding pleading.
“I’ll consider it, Emeline.”
Hope swelled.
“But no’ until after I’ve seen to my responsibilities at home,” he said.
And just as swiftly, that hope was dashed to shards upon the rocks of disappointment.
He dipped her, a swift, indiscernible look before he, too, stared out over the valley. His profile chiseled angels and planes, his granite-like jaw flexed periodically. As if he fought an internal battle. “It may be a few weeks. Which, actually, could work to yer benefit if whomever hired those curs believes the assassins were successful.”
She didn’t see how that was the case and wanted to argue that the sooner she returned to Edinburgh and searched the apartments and shop, the sooner she might find a clue.
Did he have any idea how unnerving it was to know someone wanted her dead? Unnerving? No, downright terrifying.
Nonetheless, the unflinching resolution in his stance and the knowledge that she’d already incommoded him significantly had her pasting a false, acquiescent smile on her face.
“I understand, Liam. If it werena for me, ye’d be home already. I do wonder, however, how ye will explain my presence to yer family?”
“How indeed?” His gravity dissolving, he chuckled and shook his head. “A wee waif with nae luggage or a chaperone.”
Irritation welled behind her breastbone, and she bristled.
This wasn’t funny. Nothing about this situation was humorous.
“I’m hardly wee, nor am I waif. Waifs, by their very definition, are strays, without a home or friends.” Damn, he was right. She felt even worse.
He must’ve sensed her vexation, for he took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. His large palm completely engulfed hers. “I think the truth is best. Yer coach was swept away durin’ a flash flood, and I saved ye. Ye’re the only survivor.”
“What happens if they question where we’ve been since the flood?” There was no easy way around that obstacle. A single day might’ve been explained away, but several days? No, that proved much more complicated.
“Nae one needs to ken when the flood occurred. Nor does anyone need to ken how long we’ve been alone together.” Raven eyebrows crashing together, and his mouth sliding into a grim ribbon, his countenance grew fierce as he rasped, “Ye should ken, it willna make any difference if anyone does find out. I willna be playin’ the gallant and proposin’, Em.”
Em?
Proposin’?
Why, the arrogant, conceited, puffed-up boor.
His voice as unyielding and cold as steel, he forged onward. “Dinna mistake my aid as somethin’ more than it is or expect anythin’ else from me. Ye’re bonnie as a rose in the mornin’ sun, and yer luscious shape would make the goddess of love jealous. But by God, I never mean to be duped into marriage again. Do ye understand?”