Chapter Six #3
“I imagine you are also quite good at the work you do,” she said, returning to the earlier topic. “You’ve always been a man of details and determination.” She sent a quick glance in his direction. “I think your father would be very proud of the man you’ve become, David. I hope you know that.”
Not many people knew of the complicated relationship David had with his father.
Barney Macarthur had been fiercely proud of his heritage and determined to bring out the Scot in his son through physical labor and continual criticism for the ways in which David fell short.
David had expressed during their time in London how he missed the connection to his Scottish history now that his father was not there to demand it have a place in his life.
Dina’s response back then was to share with him the stories she’d been raised on in her grandfather’s household, speak Gaelic as often as possible, and serve as a reminder that he was still a Scot, even if he was also an Englishman.
She wondered now if that might have been another part of Mrs. Macarthur’s objection to Dina.
She not only distracted David from the English girls who would shore up his position in that country, but she also pulled him toward the Scottish tones that his mother had never been comfortable with.
Mrs. Macarthur herself had married to a Scot and had not been particularly happy in that union.
“Thank you, Dina. I hope that he would be.”
“It seems you are still very close to your mother.”
“I am her only son,” he said, a bit of a sigh in his voice, then turned to give Dina a playful look.
“A fact she makes sure everyone is aware of, most of all me.” He shrugged and ran his hand through his hair again.
“I cannot imagine the man I’d have become without her, though.
She’s kept me focused and helped me connect with people who have been essential in my development. I owe her a great deal.”
“Certainly,” Dina said, despite the stinging reminder that she had been a stumbling block in his development rather than an essential element.
They came to a stop as they stepped into the glen situated with a rather disappointing circle of stones.
The tallest of those still standing was only four feet high, and those on the ground were half buried.
They began a slow walk around the formation.
“Well, I must admit myself rather put out with Mr. Jennings’s enthusiasm for this, what did he call it .
. . historical treasure?” David waved dismissively at the sorry stones at their feet.
“I had expected something more like Brodger or even Machrie Moor. This was hardly worth the exertion of coming over that hill.”
Dina kept her expression flat. “You have my full support of whatever retribution you deem reasonable on those who have proclaimed this a landmark worthy of exploration.”
“I am thinking . . .” He looked at the sky and skewed his expression as though deep in thought. “Boiling oil. That is a good Scottish punishment, ya ken?”
Dina laughed as full and free as she had in the carriage with Mr. Dewberry. “Where would we find the oil in these parts?” She waved a hand to indicate the trees around them.
“Burn down his village, then,” David said with a shrug.
“I live in that village,” Dina reminded him.
“Right, we shall preserve the house of Loch-Lauren, fairy princess of Brierly Glen, and settle for stealing all his cattle.” He waved a flourishing hand in a circle above his head.
They continued to discuss punishments, each a bit more brutal than the next, as they wandered around the circle of stones.
Once. Twice. Six times. Dina had been placing one foot in front of another but placed her foot wrong and pitched to the side.
David immediately put a hand beneath her elbow and another on her shoulder to steady her.
They both froze. She raised her eyes to meet his, only inches from her own, and felt that pull she’d kept just outside the door of her consideration burst in.
David swallowed, looked at her lips, and then stepped away.
The disappointment of his removal was equal to the thrill of knowing that he felt what she felt, at least to a degree.
She imagined planting her feet before him, bold and determined, and asking him if he did not feel it too.
Ask him if he did not want to feel more.
The wave of longing that accompanied the fantasy nearly caused Dina to lose her balance again.
“I fear Fiona must have lost her way,” David said nervously, looking the way they had come. “We should head back.”
Dina forced herself to remember all that stood between them. Miss Johansson. His mother. His place in England. Her place nowhere.
The excitement and energy drained away, as was right. “That would be a good idea, I think.”
He did not offer his arm as they made their way down the hill, and even though she had to pick her steps carefully, she did not ask for him to steady her.
“Aye, there they are,” David said with relief when they reached the bottom of the hill.
They made their way to the group, but just before they reached them, Dina realized that Miss Johansson was not there. Neither was Mr. Littlefield.