Chapter 4
Robert Douglas watched the mysterious woman ride off. He knew the hot and swift rush of blood through his veins was the cause of the furious pounding of his heart against his temples. What he did not know was why this woman had caused it.
She was English, was she not?
For several minutes after she left, he stood stock-still, looking toward the last place he had seen her. Filled with a brooding silence, he tried to recall the enchantment of her face…her English face. Hout! Something mysterious and extraordinary was going on here. He was feeling things—strange things, things he did not want to experience; things he had no explanation for.
The moment she was gone, he felt more than a twinge of disappointment, knowing he would never see her again, that he would never know more about her than he did now…never again to see the blessing of that face.
Why had he let her go?
What was it about her that nagged at him? Why her and not a hundred other beautiful lassies he had seen? Something about this one—but what, he did not know. He only knew it went deeper than beauty. His fierce attraction to her burned through him. He did not understand why his brief few minutes with her haunted him so. And he did not understand why he had an inexplicable feeling that he would see her again.
Of course, he would see her…if it was his destiny.
Destiny…The word stole into his mind with such delicate ease, he was not, at first, aware of it. Destiny…The word went down as smooth as a glass of Drambuie. How could it not? He was a Scot. It was natural that he would believe in the mysterious. He was also a good Presbyterian who believed in predestination. He closed his eyes and saw vivid red hair.
He kicked a clod of dirt, angry with himself for letting her go. He had come here to find a lass to marry. A perfect choice almost ran him down and what did he do? Let her go, fool that he was. He kicked another clod.
“Don’t take it out on Mother Nature. Kicking dirt won’t bring your lassie back.”
Robert stopped and turned to watch his younger brother, Hugh, approach. “You saw what happened.”
Hugh laughed. “Aye, I saw a wee lassie send you tumbling in the dirt to land on yer arse. She was a pretty little thing, red hair, and more than likely, green eyes. Quite a lass to send a man such as you rolling in the dirt.”
Robert forced a laugh and rubbed his backside. “I feel fortunate that’s all she did. I could have broken my fool neck.”
Hugh was looking at him strangely. “It’s not like you to stand there like a petrified forest and let a horse run over you. What happened? Didn’t you see her coming?”
“Aye,” Robert said, still feeling dazed. “I saw her.”
“Then why the devil didn’t you move?”
“I didn’t think she would run over me until it was too late.”
“From where I stood, she looked determined to ride right through you.”
He dusted himself off. “Well, what is life, without conflict?”
Amazed, Hugh shook his head. “I can’t get over it. I never thought you were the kind to let anyone run over you, especially a lass.”
“I don’t know why that would surprise you,” he said. “She is an English lass. It has long been their favorite pastime to ride over all Scots, or have you forgotten?”
“How was I supposed to know she was English?”
“We are in England, are we not?”
“Aye, but we are not English.”
“No, and come to think of it, she had no way of knowing I was a Scot.”
Hugh laughed. “Maybe her horse did.”
“It was probably the accent.” Robert gave Hugh a stern look. “It must be nice to be the youngest and so free from responsibility that you can jest at a time like this.”
“A time like this? What do you mean? You make it sound like we’re at war or something.”
“I came here to find a wife, remember?”
“Aye, and you might succeed if you didn’t do your best to scare them off as fast as you meet them. Take my advice. You would have a better time of it if you would use a little humor yourself. Not many lassies want to spend the rest of their life with a man whose features look as if they’re carved from Grampian stone.”
“Thank you. I will try to remember that.”
“Seriously, why did you let her go? We came here to find you a wife, did we not?”
“We came here to find a dowered lady.”
“She could have been nothing but. Did you see her clothes? Her horse was of a superior bloodline. She was no ordinary homespun lass, some miller’s daughter out for a dalliance. She had all the bearing of a woman of rank. I thought she was an opportunity from heaven, falling into your hands like manna. I do not think you will be able to do better. You must admit she was more than passing fair. If you had detained her long enough to show her your charming, captivating side, we could be on our way to Scotland by now, with your lass in tow.”
“I don’t have a charming, captivating side. I never had time for that. You are the younger, charming son. You’re the one who had all the time to dally with the lassies.”
“True, but you have a dark and mysterious side that women find both appealing and captivating. You just don’t know it.”
“I’m not interested in being appealing or captivating. I need a wife—one with a large dowry. It’s as simple as that.”
“And you are a Scot with nothing to offer but debt and a title. You had better start being interested in making yourself attractive to the lassies. You have little else to offer. You could have had her melting in your arms before the day was out. I saw the way she looked at you. You may come to regret letting her slip away so easily. She was unusually fair.”
“Aye, she was fair…as for letting her go, I regret it already.”
“Well, the milk is spilt. We will do better next time.” Hugh chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen a lassie stand up to you like that one did. She sure got the best of you, didn’t she?”
“She took me by surprise, that’s all.”
“Aye, she did at that. Not the ordinary English lass with a backbone of Yorkshire pudding.”
“No, she was not,” agreed Robert. “I think there must be some Celtic blood in there somewhere.”
“Perhaps so. With that hair, she could be Irish.”
“Aye, she could be.”
Hugh studied his brother for a moment. “Want to go after her?”
Robert looked off in the direction she had taken and contemplated doing just that. “We’d have the devil’s own time trying to track her over such a well-used trail, and our horses are tired.”
“I suppose you’re right…still, it’s a shame. A lassie with so much spirit might survive the ordeal of being married to a Scot such as yourself.”
“She might at that, but she is gone and I canna waste my time thinking about the one who got away. There are other lassies.”
Hugh laughed and slapped his brother on the back. “Aye, there are other lassies. All we have to do is find one. Who knows? The perfect lass might ride into your arms when you least expect it.”
“The probability of that happening a second time is remote.”
“Well, a man can dream, can’t he?”
Robert did not say anything more.
They reached their horses and mounted. The two of them rode on, Hugh talking as if he had an audience, Robert not listening to anything he said.
They rode for half an hour before they encountered a hunting party of well-mounted gentlemen and ladies. The party was large, with dogs, hawks and led-horses, and the air was filled with the barking, shouts and cheers from the hunters, and the occasional trumpeting of the horn. Robert and Hugh pulled up to watch the party pass across the heath.
“’Tis a pity they did not stop,” Hugh said. “Lots of lassies in the hunt, but traveling too fast to see if any of them were fair of face.”
“Fairness is not a primary concern. Her purse is.”
“Be optimistic, brother. Why not try for both?”
“A lass will have either a large dowry or great beauty. One who possesses both is rarer than birds’ milk.” Signaling the end to their conversation, Robert turned his horse and rode on, not looking back to see if Hugh followed.