Mary Robb - Down the Rabbit Hole

He stopped then, and though his frown remained, he allowed himself to look around, as though seeing it through her eyes.

His own eyes softened. “Aye. ’Tis a bonny place. We stand on hallowed ground.” He pointed to a small chapel across the garden and started toward it, with Beth trailing behind.

When they came to a fenced area, dotted with stone markers and sculpted angels, he paused. “My ancestors lie here. Those who died in battle, and those who mourned them. One day I’ll join them as well. Until then, I see it as my duty to nurture the land and the life they left in my care.”

Without thinking, Beth touched a hand to his. “I can’t think of a more peaceful place to spend eternity.”

He glanced at her small hand, and then up into her eyes with a fierce look that had her heart racing.

Before she could pull away, he closed both hands over hers. “Are you telling me a Campbell can understand what this place means to me?”

She swallowed. “Please don’t judge me by my name.”

“How else am I to judge you?”

“Judge me by my character. By my behavior. By the choices I make.” She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips. “I’m more than a name.”

“As am I.”

She nodded and managed a small smile. “Maybe . . .” She sighed. “Maybe we could start over. I know I made a bad impression when I . . .”

He touched a finger to her mouth to stop her. Just the merest touch, but she felt the fire all the way to her toes.

“My lady Campbell . . .”

“Beth,” she corrected.

“Beth is not a name. I shall call you by your full name. Bethany.”

She was caught by surprise. “How did you guess? Most people think it’s Elizabeth.”

“Nay. It could only be Bethany.” He spoke the word in a harsh whisper. “For ’tis truly a bonny name.”

And then there were no words as he lowered his face to hers and kissed her full on the mouth.

An earthquake would have been less devastating than the kiss, which seemed to spin on and on, catching them both by complete surprise.

His arms came around her, drawing her against him, while his warm, firm lips moved over hers with a thoroughness that had her trembling.

She was so caught up in the moment, she found her arms around his neck, though she didn’t recall how they got there. And when his hair brushed the backs of her fingers, she absorbed a tingling sensation that raced through her veins.

When at last he lifted his head, he stared down into her eyes with a look that was devouring her. “Are you a witch then, Bethany Campbell? For I know of no other reason I should behave so boldly with a woman I’ve only just met.”

Though she knew her cheeks were flushed and her eyes wide with surprise, she couldn’t look away. “I’m no witch, my lord.”

He reached out a big, rough palm to cup her cheek. His voice was husky with emotion. “Perhaps not, but I’m bewitched all the same.”

“I’m the one bewitched.” Her tone was low. Breathless. Troubled. “Ever since arriving here my world has turned upside down. Nothing is as it should be.”

“’Tis true for me, as well. You’ve brought a candle to my darkness.” He bent to brush a soft, butterfly kiss over her lips. “Now, my sweet, fair Bethany, you must leave me. This very moment. Before I do something that would shame us both.”

She stared mutely as the meaning of his harshly whispered words sank in. She caught up the hem of her gown and turned away.

She knew she was taking the coward’s way when she ran as fast as she could from the garden.

And all the while she could feel the heat of his gaze fixed on her as she made her escape.

Beth paced the length of her room and back before pausing at the balcony to see Colin pacing the garden like a caged animal. Even from so great a distance it was clear that he was as tormented as she.

What in the world had she been thinking? How could she expect to conduct business, for heaven’s sake, to negotiate terms of a sale with a man after allowing him to kiss her like that?

Allow? That was too mild a word. She’d been a full participant in that kiss. And it shamed her to realize that if he hadn’t been the one to call a halt to it, she would still be in his arms, taking pleasure in the amazing feelings his touch aroused in her.

Though it was completely out of character for her, she’d welcomed the unexpected rush of passion. Had embraced it. And even now, just thinking about his kiss had her trembling like one of the silly, lovesick heroines in the novels she’d kept hidden from her aunt in her teens.

She turned away from the balcony when the door to her room was opened and old Maura stepped in, her arms filled with fresh clothing.

“If yer to ride to the hunt, m’lady, ye’ll need proper clothes.” She set her burden down in the middle of the bed and began to sort through them. “We keep a store of the lady Catherine’s clothes.”

“Lady Catherine?”

“The laird’s mother. Though she’s been gone these many years, the old Laird Collier kept her gowns in a small room abovestairs. Since she was near your size, I thought they would do, though I’m sure Edwina will sulk.”

“How kind of you, Maura. Who is Edwina?”

“Why, the laird’s stepsister. She and Ian are the product of the old laird’s second wife and her first husband. Laird Collier Gordon wed her after Lady Catherine died.” Under her breath she muttered, “May God rest her dear soul.”

“You cared for her.”

“The lady Catherine? Aye. She was loved by all who knew her, my lady.”

“And Laird Collier and his second wife?”

“Both gone to the grave now. Our affection for the old laird never wavered, though we all questioned his wisdom. He lies buried beside the chapel, next to Lady Catherine.” Her smile turned to a frown. Her voice lowered with a trace of scorn. “His second wife was taken by her children to be laid to rest with those of her clan.”

“Do Ian and Edwina live here?”

The old woman shook her head. “They live among their mother’s people. She first wed a wealthy laird from the clan Campbell . . .” She stopped, her eyes wide as she realized what she’d revealed. “Begging your pardon, my lady. Ye probably know of yer kinswoman? The lady Darda Campbell.”

“Darda . . . ?” Beth turned away to hide her shock. Her aunt’s name was uncommon enough that she’d never before heard it. And now, to hear it in this place seemed unimaginable.

“Was she as beloved as the Lady Catherine?”

The old woman’s voice was icy. “She was undeserving. All she loved, all she coveted, was the old laird’s gold and lands. There now, my lady. I’ve spoken ill of your kinswoman, and may my Maker smote me for it.”

Beth managed a smile. “You’re free to say whatever you wish. My clan is far from here, Maura. In a land across the sea.”

“Across the sea? ’Tis more than the mind can imagine.” The old woman shivered at the thought of it and shook her head in amazement before holding up a gorgeous long skirt and fitted jacket in lush green velvet. “This will keep ye warm as ye join the hunt.” She began helping Beth out of her wool gown and into the riding clothes.

When Beth was dressed, Maura held up a jaunty green hat adorned with a veil and a jewel-toned peacock feather. Placing it just so on Beth’s head, the old woman stood back to admire her handiwork. “There now, m’lady. Take these.” She offered a pair of softest kid gloves. “The laird instructed me to tell ye yer groom will be waiting at the stables with your mount. Mistress MacKay is preparing a picnic luncheon to be served in the meadow.”

“Will the other women be joining the hunt?”