‘Because?’
‘Because he was the sort of kid who pulled wings off flies. I won’t sugar coat it. My father was older than his, so my father stood to inherit the title, with me coming after him. Alan’s father resented mine and the resentment was passed on down the line. I don’t know what sort of poison was instilled in Alan when he was small but he was taught to hate me and he knew how to hurt.’
Whoa. He hadn’t talked of this before. She knew it instinctively and who knew how she knew it, but she did. What he was saying was being said to her alone—and it hurt to say it.
His eyes went to a point further along the coast, where the burn met the sea. ‘It came to a head down here,’ he told her, absently, almost as if speaking to the land rather than her. Apologising for not being back for so long? ‘I loved the otters, and I used to come down here often. One day Alan followed me. I was lying on my stomach watching the otters through field glasses. He was up on the ridge, and he’d taken my grandfather’s shotgun. He killed three otters before I reached him. He was eighteen months older than me, and much bigger, and I went for him and he hit me with the gun. I still carry the scar under my hairline. I was dazed and bleeding, and he laughed and walked back to the castle.’
‘No...’
His mouth set in a grim line. ‘Thinking back...that blow to my head... He nearly killed me. But I was twelve and he was fourteen, and I was afraid of him. I told Grandmother I’d fallen on the cliffs. Soon after that his parents decided he was old enough to join them in the resorts they stayed at, so I didn’t have to put up with him any more. I never told Eileen what happened. In retrospect, maybe I should have.’ And then he paused and looked at her. ‘But you... You loved him?’
‘No.’
‘It doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business, but these last years... Just knowing you were here in the castle was enough to keep me away.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You shouldn’t have to apologise for your husband’s faults.’
‘But as you said, I married him.’
‘I can’t see you killing otters.’
‘Is that why you took me to look at the puffins first?’ she asked. ‘To see how I reacted?’
‘I was hardly expecting a gun.’
‘I’d guess you weren’t expecting a gun from Alan, either.’ She sighed and took a deep breath—and it wasn’t only because she needed a few deep breaths before tackling the rise in front of her. ‘Okay, I understand. Alasdair, we don’t need to go there any more. I’ll stop judging you for not spending more time with your grandmother if you stop judging me for being married to Alan. I know I’m still...tainted...but we can work around that. Deal?’
He looked at her for a long moment, seeming to take in every inch of her. And then, slowly, his face creased into a smile.
It was an awesome smile, Jeanie thought. It was dark turning to light. It lit his whole face, made his dark eyes glint with laughter, made him seem softer, more vulnerable...
A warrior exposed?
That shouldn’t be how she saw him, but suddenly it was. He was the Earl of Duncairn, and he wore armour, just as surely as his ancestors wore chain mail. His armour might be invisible but it was still there.
Telling her about the otters, telling her about Alan, had made a chink in that armour, she thought, and even though he was smiling she could see the hint of uncertainty. As if telling her had left him vulnerable and he didn’t like it.
She had a sudden vision of him as a child, here in this castle. It was wild now; it would have been wilder then. Eileen had told her she’d brought both boys here during their school holidays. Jeanie had envisaged two boys with a whole estate to explore and love.
But later Eileen had said she’d often had to leave the boys with the housekeeper when she’d had to go back to Edinburgh, and Jeanie saw that clearly now, too. A twelve-year-old boy would have been subjected to the whims and cruelty of his older cousin. It wouldn’t just have been the otters, she thought grimly. She knew Alan. There would have been countless cruelties during the years.
‘This next bit’s rough,’ Alasdair was saying and he held his hand out. ‘Let me help you.’
She looked down at his hand.
He was a McBride. He was yet another man who’d caught her at a weak moment and married her.
But the day was magic, the hill in front was tough and Alasdair was right beside her, smiling, holding out his hand.
‘If I had one more brain cell, it’d be lonely,’ she muttered out loud, to no one in particular, but Alasdair just raised his brows and kept on smiling and the sun was warm on her face and the otters were waiting, and a woman was only human after all.
She put her hand in his and she started forward again.
With Alasdair.
* * *
What followed was another magic day. Duncairn’s weather was unpredictable to say the least, but today the gods had decided to be kind—more, they’d decided to put on Scotland at her most splendid. There was just enough wind to keep the midges at bay. The sky was dotted by clouds that might or might not turn to rain, but for now the sun shone, and the water in the burn was crystal clear.
Without hesitation Alasdair led them to a ledge near the cottage, a rocky outcrop covered with a thick layer of moss. It stretched out over the burn, but a mere ten feet above, so they could lie on their stomachs and peer over the edge to see what was happening in the water below.
And for a while nothing happened. Maybe it wouldn’t, Alasdair conceded. Otters were notoriously shy. They could well have sensed their movement and darted back under cover, but for now they were content to wait.
Alasdair was more than content.
It was a strange feeling, lying on the moss-covered rock with Jeanie stretched out by his side.
His life was city-based now, mostly spent in Edinburgh but sometimes London, New York, Copenhagen, wherever the demands of his company took him. Under the terms of Eileen’s will he’d need to delegate much of that travel for the next year. He’d thought he’d miss it, but lying next to Jeanie, waiting for otters to grace them with their presence, he thought suddenly, Maybe I won’t.
What other woman had he ever met who’d lie on her stomach on a rock and not move, not say a word, and somehow exude a quality of complete restfulness? After half an hour the otters still hadn’t shown themselves. He knew from past experience that half an hour wasn’t long for these shy creatures to stay hidden, but did Jeanie know that? If she did, she didn’t mind. She lay with her chin resting on her hands, watching the water below, but her eyes were half-closed, almost contemplative.
Her hair was tumbling down around her face. A curl was blocking his view. He wanted to lift it away.
She’d been Alan’s wife.
Surely it didn’t matter. He wanted to touch...
But
