Chapter 19
Riona walked toward the barn, intent on her errand. After dinner, Rory had given her a message. James wished to see her.
Why? Especially since they’d said little to each other at dinner. He’d seemed preoccupied, and she had attempted to forget his words of the morning.
A kiss in payment. But he’d forgotten, intent on his day, and she’d been left to sigh in secret disappointment.
Night was draping itself over Tyemorn. The cows were being led from the milking shed, the chickens were settling down. One of the stable boys, lantern in hand, began to close one of the broad barn doors, his actions stayed by a shadowy figure just out of sight.
Suddenly, he moved into the light, the glimpse of him making her heart beat too quickly. James.
The inside of the barn was dimly lit, the smell of thatch as pungent as the scent of the hay piled to one side.
Two pens had been erected in the main area of the barn, each containing young or sickly animals.
Along the left side of the structure were five bays for the horses, mostly work animals used for plowing or pulling the heavy market wagons.
Riona walked to where James was working, standing outside the stall. He cared for his own mount rather than foist the chore on someone else.
“You wished to see me?” she said softly.
“I did,” he answered.
After a few moments, James finished his task, moving past her to place the curry brush on a shelf.
As he did so, she reached out her hand, almost touching him, wanting to smooth her fingers over his shirt, not to feel the texture or the fine weave of the material as much as to measure the rise and fall of his chest. She wanted to stroke the edge of his jaw, the curve of his lips.
Perhaps even pretend that he was hers and no one else’s.
Dearest James.
A friend. Certainly that. A companion. Yes, that, too. A lover? Never. But she could wish it, could she not? Mrs. Parker had thought her behavior shocking in Edinburgh. What would the woman think if she heard that confession?
How strange that Riona didn’t care.
What was in her mind before he came? What had she wished for before he arrived at Tyemorn Manor?
Now she couldn’t imagine a day without talking to him.
Who would answer her questions, or listen to her thoughts with such acceptance?
Or understand how she felt about Tyemorn?
Who would smile at her in such a way that her heartbeat escalated and her palms became damp?
No one.
They would, no doubt, meet each other in the future, and talk like friends, constrained, however, by her bonds of marriage. There would never again be the freedom she had felt to say anything she thought.
He glanced at her. He should not have such lovely eyes, she thought.
How odd that he seemed so much more imposing to her now.
Taller, stronger. Even his voice had altered, so that a mere whisper of it sounded resonant and deep.
His accent had grown familiar to her ears, but now she noticed it.
Perhaps nature or God was demonstrating their differences in a futile attempt to winnow him from her.
Abruptly, James reached out and placed one fingertip on her cheek, a subtle connection, a disconcerting touch. She held herself still, kept by dint of will alone from placing her hand on his.
“I want my payment.”
“Payment?” she asked faintly. So he had not forgotten.
“For fetching the eggs. We were interrupted by Cook this morning.”
She licked her lips, then lowered her head, studying the floor with great intensity. “You really shouldn’t say things like that, James.”
He bent until he could meet her gaze, smiling into her face. “I want my kiss, Riona.”
She shook her head.
“You are determined to make me a conquest, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps I’m the one who’s already been conquered,” he answered, “and a kiss is my forfeit.”
She smiled at that thought, doubting it.
“It’s vastly improper.”
He remained silent.
“My mind wanders when you kiss me. I can’t keep a thought in my head. It’s as if I’m getting dizzy.”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to feel.”
“Is it?” She doubted that. “I’ve never heard anyone say so. Not even in Edinburgh.”
“Perhaps they don’t know how to kiss in Edinburgh,” he teased.
She began to smile. “Oh, it’s a skill only the MacRaes of Gilmuir have, is it?”
“It might be, if I ever have the opportunity to test it,” he teased.
She took one step closer to him, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes. Slowly, she pursed her lips and waited.
Rory grinned to himself. He wasn’t the only one being made daft by a woman. James was evidently having some problems of his own. He’d delivered the message to Riona and watched as she entered the barn.
He couldn’t help but wonder if the others knew what was going on between those two. It was as clear as the freckles on his nose, but then he’d been around the MacRae men, or at least Alisdair, when he had fallen in love. The emotion had rendered the man decidedly odd.
He was halfway to the cheese house on an errand for Susanna when he happened to glance to his right. Rory halted and frowned.
Although he knew most of the men at Tyemorn, he didn’t recall this one, not stooped over as he was and walking un-steadily. As he watched, the man gripped the long wooden bar in front of the barn doors and lowered it, locking James and Riona inside.
He shouted to get the man’s attention, but the stranger took the lantern from the hook in front of the structure and disappeared around the corner.
Easing around the edge of the building, Rory was shocked to see the other man extending the lantern upward in several places, catching the thatch on fire.
“Are you daft, man?” he yelled.
The stranger turned, a look of hatred contorting his pale face. “Another MacRae,” he said.
Advancing on Rory, he began to smile, the expression malevolent in the glare of the spreading flames.
Rory watched as the man rushed him, the motion slowed by his own shock. He saw the lantern come toward him, then felt the flaming oil. The blow on the side of his head was unexpected. An instant later Rory realized that he’d fulfilled Daniel’s superstition after all.
Perhaps he should have been prepared, what with all the warnings he’d taken to Gilmuir about Drummond. But it hadn’t occurred to him that he might be in danger. Nor had he thought, on this warm and fragrant summer evening, that death might be lying in wait for him.
The other man leaned into him as his knees buckled.
“Die, MacRae,” he rasped, his breath heated on Rory’s cheek.
The last words he was to hear. Not Abigail’s teasing or James’s praise, but Drummond’s curse.
His final thought, in the moment before the world went gray, was that he hoped the MacRaes did not think his death a minor sorrow after all.
Instead of taking advantage of the invitation, James abruptly lifted Riona up, sitting her on the edge of a nearby table. Her eyes flew open and she stared at him.
“Not that way,” he said, taking her hands and putting them on his shoulders.
“You must kiss me as if you mean it. As if there’s nothing else in the world you’d rather do.
As if someone might be calling your name and you can’t go to him, or a flood is threatening but you can’t leave.
” He placed his finger in the center of her bottom lip. “Until you have that kiss.”
He bent, but an inch from her mouth he hesitated. “Relax your mouth, Riona. Just enough for your lips to part.”
Her lips fell open, and he brushed his tongue against them, first the top, then the bottom. Slowly, so that she could experience the sensation. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, and he moved closer, standing to the side of her and placing his hands beneath her arms and behind her back.
Her breath was faster than before, her eyes still closed, and there was a look of such rapt concentration on her face that he almost smiled.
His lips touched hers, softly at first, then with more firmness.
Her hand wound around his neck as he pulled her even closer.
He wanted her breath, her soft gasps. What he received was an interlude of magic.
Deep in her throat she moaned, and he felt himself harden at the sound.
His hands moved from her back to frame her face, fingers thrusting into her hair as he’d imagined only hours earlier.
Dear God, he wanted her.
Finally, he pulled back, his heart beating rapidly, his erection almost painful. He lay his forehead against hers, heard her breathing, and thought that she was as affected as he was by their kiss.
He should have left upon first meeting her, before she imprinted herself on his mind and his heart.
But she would remain there now, a woman with cool gray eyes and a smile that forever hovered over full lips.
A woman who yanked at her hair and muttered imprecations when a braid came loose.
One who smelled delightfully of cheese and warm milk.
Prudently, he stepped away. She reached out for him, then let her hands drop to her sides. What a sight to see, Riona well kissed, her blush intensifying with his scrutiny. But he couldn’t look away. If he did, he might miss a second of her. Gray eyes sparkling and lips curving in a winsome smile.
An expression of horror suddenly transformed her face. “James, look!” she said, raising her arm and pointing. He spun on his heel.
There, in the corner, was a tendril of smoke. Horses whinnied in alarm as James instantly recognized the danger. Fire was a constant threat in thatched buildings, and the barn was no exception.
He went to the closed door and pushed on it. But instead of it opening, he felt resistance.
“It’s been barred from the outside,” he said as Riona joined him.
The blaze that had begun in the corner was spreading rapidly up the wall. Although the stones didn’t burn, the vegetation between them did, resulting in smoke that permeated the interior of the barn. Even worse, he caught a glimpse of a flame closer to the ceiling.