He bent to retrieve the pouch and then surprised her by also lifting her in his arms. “What are you doing? I can walk. You’re the one who needs carrying.”
He laughed softly, a deep, glorious rumble. “Och, lass. I’d topple on ye and squash ye like a bug if ye ever tried to lift me.”
“But Robbie, you fell, and now your arm is bleeding.”
“I’ve suffered worse. Ye’re the one my pawky friends hurt. Is yer head still spinning?”
She nodded. “How did you know?”
“I can see it in yer eyes.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck because she was indeed feeling a little woozy. Or was it giddy? She could lie to herself and blame it on the pouch hitting her face. Or she could admit the truth she’d always dreaded. There was something about this big Scot that always made her head spin.
And now he was back after being away for months.
She squeezed her arms tightly around him...she hoped he would not mistake it for a hug. Perhaps it was a hug.
She was glad to have him back.
She’d missed him.
“My little pixie,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I missed ye, too.”
She wanted to cry.
Why did he have to come back today of all days? She was about to make her first formal appearance beside her betrothed. She and the Marquess of Tilbury would soon be married, and she would be a marchioness.
This was her dream.
This had always been her heart’s desire. Ever since she was a little girl, she had always said she would grow up and marry a nobleman, be a fine lady, and live in a fine house.
But Robbie had returned, bringing with him The Book of Love.
Was he about to shatter her childhood dreams?