Chapter Two
By November, Cora Maynard could no longer ignore the persistent presence of the handsome stranger. Try as she might to avoid him, she had to work at the tavern—and unfortunately, that placed her directly in his path again and again.
He returned each month, staying only a few days and then disappearing without a word.
Rumors had begun to spread through the village when work had begun on the Duke of Tolland’s holding just outside the village.
Many claimed the gent was on business for the new duke to restore the luster of the hunting lodge.
But the stranger offered no details regardless of his affiliation, and Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie remained quite silent about the matter.
Cora studied him from across the room as she wiped the glasses and placed them on the shelf. He partook of the hearty hunter’s stew and a dram of whisky followed by an ale.
He lifted his tankard in salute when he caught her staring.
Heat flooded her face, and she shook her head as she turned away. This obvious infatuation needed to end.
With a sigh, Cora poured a dram of whisky and drank it, allowing the heat of the liquor to burn into her, igniting her courage into action.
Since she had been a wee lass, there had always been men who desired her. Even her late husband, God rest his soul, had worshiped her for her beauty. But none could ever see beyond it. None ever saw her heart. She had been young and foolish thinking that would change, but it never had.
When Seamus had died, Cora had vowed to never remarry.
She’d remained in the small cottage by the loch where they had shared ten years.
Now she spent her time gathering herbs and practicing her healing amid evenings spent working at the tavern.
Everything she required, she possessed. And that suited her right down to the moss-covered ground.
Straightening her bodice, Cora took a deep breath of fortitude and strode across the room.
“Have you changed your mind?” the stranger asked, his brow arched in surprise.
Saints, but the lad was handsome. Strong profile. Even, white teeth. Dark hair swept back from his face. Deep-green eyes focused on her as he lifted his tankard, but they held the vivacity of youth. He could be no more than thirty, and that thought alone gave her pause.
At three and forty, Cora could not give serious consideration to his flirtation. She was old enough to be his mother!
“Sir,” she paused, pursing her lips as she searched for the right words and decided upon the direct approach. “If you continue to persist in such a manner, I will be forced to insist upon your removal from the establishment permanently.”
He set aside the glass and allowed his tongue to glide over his lower lip. Cora forgot to breathe.
“Please, enlighten me. What have I done to warrant such a strong corrective measure?”
“You cannot play innocent, sir. It does not suit you.” She straightened.
“Forgive me, but I fail to see what I have done that causes you such distress.” He inclined his head, his gaze sending a wave of heat through her.
Cora pushed it aside. “I may be a woman, sir, but I am not a fool. You return month after month and frequent this establishment, and all the while your gaze remains fixed on me as I work.”
“Is it wrong to admire your dedication?” He smiled, and even though it rang with sincerity, she caught the teasing in his tone.
“You admire far more than my dedication, sir,” Cora responded, crossing her arms.
“Beautiful, dedicated, and observant.” He clicked his tongue. “A surprising combination.”
“I am neither interested in nor in need of your flattery.” Cora persisted. “You are not the first gentleman to attempt to woo me in such a manner, and I fear you will not be the last.”
“My apologies, Miss—”
“Mrs.,” Cora clarified.
“Married.” His brow furrowed.
“Widowed,” she added, cringing when his smile returned. Cora had not meant it to sound like encouragement. She cursed beneath her breath. “Widowed with no intention of taking another man into my life or my bed.”
His lips parted, eyes wide. Had she truly just said that? Saints, what was it about this man that tied her up into knots and stole her wits?
“Perhaps you have not met the right man.” He ran his thumb across his lower lip.
“Perhaps,” Cora said with a shrug, struggling to ignore the way her body tightened at the sensual but innocuous action. “Now that I clarified my wishes, I expect you to follow them. Is that understood?”
“Your wish is my command.” He inclined his head respectfully.
“Excellent.” Cora returned to her duties. Even though she bore a calm facade, inside, her body rioted and her mind became tangled in conflicting desires. Damn him for igniting this insatiable curiosity. She had no use for him or for these unruly needs suddenly waking from a dormant slumber.
Later that night beside the warm fire in her small cottage, Cora sipped her tea and stared into the flames.
Try as she might, she could not ignore the ache inside her.
Loneliness had never been an issue. She enjoyed the solitude, but somewhere deep in her soul, she longed for that connection.
That bond between lovers that she had heard about in stories of old.
A bond she’d never experienced herself, but one she craved deep in her heart of hearts.
Her thoughts returned to the stranger. She dared not ask his name. If she did, it would open a door she could never close. One that would lead her directly into temptation.
Perhaps you haven’t met the right man. The stranger’s words lingered in her mind.
But what if he is? Cora closed her eyes and sighed. “This is madness,” she whispered to the empty room.