Chapter 10 #2
“I can’t,” she said reflexively. “Not while the feast—”
He cut her off with a frown. “The guests will not begrudge their hostess a few moments. We will return before anyone notices we are gone.”
“But …”
Someone would notice that they were gone. Her gaze instinctively searched for Patrick, though why she didn’t know. He’d been avoiding her all week. With the arrival of Colin and Robert, the pattern of her day had changed; she missed their opportunities for private conversation.
She missed him.
She knew that something was wrong. All week he’d been as bristly as a bear, but today was far worse.
She’d danced with all of his men, but not with him.
Yet while avoiding her, he watched her with an enigmatic look on his face that made her uneasy.
She could sense his brooding agitation and simmering anger.
As the celebration progressed, the amount of wine he consumed increased, and his expression grew darker and darker.
Robert noticed the direction of her gaze. “It’s only the garden,” he said wryly. “No need for your watchdog. I’ve something I’d like to talk to you about—in private.”
“Very well, a stroll in the garden would be lovely.” With one last glance across the room, she put her hand in the fold of Robert’s arm and followed him out the door, feeling Patrick’s eyes boring into her back the entire way.
Once outside, the cool air was like a pleasant shock upon her flushed skin.
She sighed deeply, inhaling a cleansing breath.
It was later than she’d realized, the magical time between day and night when darkness closed in around the fading sun.
The last orange embers of the day shone faintly on the horizon, creating a delicious swirling confection of pink and gray in the evening sky.
“It’s beautiful,” she said as they walked along the path.
“Aye,” Robert agreed. “Beautiful.”
Lizzie felt heat warm her cheeks, discerning from the huskiness in his voice that he hadn’t been talking about the sunset. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea. She was enjoying herself and didn’t want to think about anything beyond tonight.
They walked in companionable silence until they reached the iron gate for the terraced garden.
A short stone wall encircled the gardens, decorative and not defensive.
He opened the gate for her, and she passed through.
He followed, motioning her to a stone bench along a hedgerow with a spectacular view of the Ochil hills and the village of Dollar below.
He took a seat beside her and after a moment gathered her hand in his. “I’ve enjoyed myself this week,” he said.
“As have I.”
He smiled, soft lines crinkling around his eyes. Smiling was something he was used to. “I’m glad to hear that.” He was contemplative for a moment, as if searching for words. A bird sang softly in the distance. “Auchinbreck and I will be leaving soon.”
“Oh.” Her disappointment was genuine. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“As am I, but the outlaws must be apprehended. The king will not be mollified this time.” He cleared his throat. “But that is not what I want to speak with you about. You are aware, no doubt, of the discussions between my father and Argyll.”
She bit her lip and nodded, embarrassed. This was the first time the subject had been broached directly since they’d arrived.
“To be honest, an arranged marriage was not to my liking. I didn’t know what to think at first, but after these past few days I’ve no doubt. I think we would suit in every way.” She looked up at him, staring into deep pools of blue. “I would be honored if you would agree to be my wife.”
She’d known it was coming, but the words were still a shock.
“I …” She didn’t know what to say. She knew what she should say, but the words seemed to tangle in her mouth. Not in a stammer, but in uncertainty.
It was ridiculous. Here she was, sitting beside a handsome man in the moonlight, and all she could think of was someone else.
He must have read her hesitation. “I don’t expect you to answer right now. Take some time. Think about it.”
What was wrong with her? There was nothing to think about. Her duty was clear.
He watched her face, a faint smile lifting his lips, and she wondered if her thoughts were so transparent.
Robert stood up and pulled her into his arms. Tilting her chin back, he forced her gaze to his. “I will do my best to make you happy, Elizabeth.”
She believed him. He would make her happy. She would have a beautiful home, a wonderful husband, her own children, and the satisfaction of her family’s approval. Everything she’d always wanted. It should be enough.
Then why, why couldn’t she take it? Why did her heart cry out for more? For desire so strong, it swept away everything else in its powerful wake. For passion that consumed her soul. For everything she thought would not happen to her.
For love.
He dipped his head and his lips swept over hers in a soft kiss. It was sweet and tender, and she felt … nothing.
She wanted to cry out with frustration.
Lizzie willed herself to want him, this gallant man who looked at her with warmth and kindness in his eyes. She tried, tried with everything she had, but her body wouldn’t heed the demands of her mind.
His hand fell from her chin. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”
She nodded, not knowing what else to say. Thinking wouldn’t change anything.
“Good.” He stepped back and offered her his arm. “Shall we return?”
“You go ahead.” When it looked as if he were going to argue, she added, “I just need a moment.”
“Very well,” he agreed with an understanding smile. “But don’t be long or I’ll start to worry. It’s almost dark and you’ll catch a chill.”
His thoughtfulness only made her feel worse. What was wrong with her?
Robert Campbell stopped suddenly as he was about to enter the keep. Standing stone still, he peered into the deep shadows created by the wooden structures erected along the barmkin wall. It was almost as if he sensed the danger.
He was right to fear.
Patrick stood in the shadows, possessed by a rage so intense that it took every ounce of his control not to kill the bastard.
He’d kissed his woman. Touched her. Held her in his arms.
Patrick’s fists clenched at his sides. Rage seethed inside him, filling his veins. Building and building until his muscles flexed and burned with the pressure to contain it.
He wanted to be discovered. Wanted the excuse to vent his rage. Damn the consequences. After what he’d just witnessed, he’d probably lost what chance he had with her anyway.
But with one last glance in his direction, Robert Campbell strode back into the keep, not realizing how close he’d come to death.
Patrick’s gaze turned back to the solitary figure shadowed in the moonlight, seated on the bench in the garden. He was filled with a yearning so intense it threatened to consume him. He was beyond reason, beyond caution, beyond any claim of indifference.
This tiny, serious woman had penetrated his defenses, revealing emotions he’d thought himself incapable of. His black heart, it seemed, was not completely dead.
Seeing her in the arms of another man had unleashed something primitive in him. Something wild and uncontrollable. Something that could not be denied.
He looked around the perimeter of the barmkin wall, checking to make sure the castle guardsmen were in their usual positions. He’d studied their routine—their movements—knowing that he and his men might one day need to make a quick escape.
I could take her right now. She would be mine. No other man would ever touch her again.
The temptation to take what he wanted was overwhelming, warring with the tattered shreds of his honor.
Do it.
Hell, he was already an outlaw. He would only be fulfilling the destiny the Campbells had created for him. After everything they’d stolen from him, didn’t he deserve a little happiness?
He’d stolen before. Food, clothing, whatever it took to survive.
But this was different. This wasn’t about survival. He would possess her … but at what cost?
Not since his parents had died had someone looked at him as Lizzie did.
In her eyes, he felt like the man he might have been had circumstances been different.
If he took her, he would be no better than the lawless brigand they’d tried to turn him into.
She would look at him the way he deserved to be looked at: as a thief, an outlaw, a man without honor.
Could he bear to see the derision in her gaze and know that it was warranted?
Nay, not that. Never that.
As much as he wanted to claim that this was all about the land, he could not. He was not indifferent—if he ever had been. He wanted her to choose him.
He wouldn’t hand her over to Robert Campbell without a fight.
But not tonight. Tonight his anger was like lightning—wild and ready to strike at any moment in any direction.
Without another glance, he returned to the keep, intent on taming the beast writhing inside him with plenty of the Campbells’ best claret.
Lizzie had lingered as long as she could to no effect; the answer to her dilemma still eluded her.
Who would have thought a few months ago that she would be faced with the problem of having two men pursuing her?
Her nose wrinkled. Though exactly what Patrick Murray wanted from her she did not know.
He desired her, but he’d never made his intentions clear.
In truth, he said very little at all. She was hardly an expert at decoding masculine motives.
She’d thought John had wanted her, too. He had, but for the wrong reasons.
And with the way Patrick was looking at her tonight, she was no longer sure of anything.
Had she done something wrong?
Her chest squeezed. Or maybe he’d reconsidered. Was that it?
She had to know. She needed to see what was behind that enigmatic shell of his. Why was he so secretive? What dark secret hung over him like a thundercloud ready to unfurl its destruction in its stormy path?