“You said you hadn’t thought of it. That you didn’t have any theories.”
“That’s not what I said. I said I know not. And I don’t.”
She shook her head, still smiling. Then her eyes brightened, and she leaned forward. “Can you see your own color?”
“No.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. She reached toward him, passing her hand over his. He could almost feel it, the heat of her, and his body tightened in response, the lightness of his mood falling away.
She smiled wistfully. “It’s blue. Like your eyes. It’s different from any I’ve seen before…more vibrant.”
Arrested by the softness in her eyes, William didn’t respond immediately. When he could speak, his voice was gruff. “I see the same in you.”
“Really?” Her smile was like the sun on his face. “What color am I? Is it as I imagine? Dark blue?”
He nodded. “You’re beautiful—a dark, vivid blue, indigo lightning.”
She chewed her lip thoughtfully, pleased with the description. William stared at her profile, memorizing every line of her face, the sweep of her lashes, the bemused curve of her lips that he wanted to taste…. Her forehead creased into a frown. He followed her gaze.
MacPherson rowed across the loch, his face thunderous as he stared at William and Rose. William looked up at the sky and realized they’d been sitting there for hours. Afternoon had turned to evening. His bread was stale. He sighed and sat up, tossing his hard bread in the basket then stood. Rose stood too, nervously brushing the crumbs from her kirtle.
“Jamie,” she said when he jumped into the shallows of the loch. “What are you doing?”
“I heardhewas here.” Jamie splashed through the water, never taking his eyes off William. Once out of the loch, he charged. William tensed but didn’t retreat. MacPherson stopped in front of him, blowing like a bull. “Stay away from her, or I swear on my father’s grave I will slice you open.”
Rose took hold of MacPherson’s arm, trying to pull him away. “You promised!”
“You can certainly try,” William said, hating the man with a sudden, black intensity. MacPherson had every reason to hate William—but he had the one thing William wanted and couldn’t have.Rose. And William loathed him for it.
At Rose’s prodding MacPherson backed away, still glaring murder at William. The reckoning would come, William knew, regardless of the promises the lad had apparently made to Rose. William was ready for it.
She shepherded MacPherson back into the boat, her skirts sopping. William stood on the bank, watching as MacPherson rowed her across, his heart cankered with jealousy. In the middle of the loch, MacPherson stopped rowing and pulled the oars in. The skiff drifted. MacPherson gestured passionately as he spoke to Rose, while her gestures were placating. She touched him freely, her hands on his forearm, his shoulder. MacPherson’s gaze sliced to William, who still stood on the bank, witnessing it all. MacPherson grabbed Rose’s shoulders and kissed her. She let him.
William picked up the basket and box she’d left behind, and turned away.
Rose was relieved that her betrothed had finally calmed. She’d left her things on the bank, and when she twisted around, she saw they were gone. William was gone, too.
“What are you looking for?” Jamie asked, suspicious, scanning the bank himself.
“My box. I left it in the village.” She smiled at him. “I’m going back tomorrow. I’ll get it then.”
“I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid you’ll find it terribly boring.”
“Nonsense.” He smiled at her. He’d been so furious with her, had felt so betrayed when he’d seen her sitting on the bank talking to William. She’d tried to explain herself, but he’d been implacable. She was hisbetrothed. Strathwick was hisenemy. And never the two shall meet. Then he’d kissed her and she’d let him, and suddenly his anger had disappeared. Rose had been bewildered at first, until she’d noticed the way he stared at her—or more aptly leered at her. His gaze moved up and down her body, lingering on her breasts and mouth.
She worried now, wondering what to do about this. What to do? He was her betrothed! She’d let William kiss and touch her—surely she should let the man she meant to marry do the same and more. Trouble was, she didn’t want Jamie to kiss her or touch her again. This did not speak well for their impending wedding night. What a tangle.
At the quay, Jamie assisted her from the boat, pulling her against his body and running his hands down her backside. Her heart beat furiously. She prepared to slap him if he tried anything else, but he did not. He took her hand and led her up the steps. All the while he stole lecherous looks at her, filled with promise and expectation. Oh, it was coming. It was just a matter of when.
The attack came outside her chambers. He kissed her again—abruptly, so she had no time to react. His mouth was over hers, tongue thrusting, his arms crushing her against him. She struggled, twisting her face away.
“Jamie! Hold, please! Wait! I can’t breathe!”
His mouth was wet on her neck. Then he bit her, and she yelped. Reflexively, she rammed her knee into his groin.
The effect was instantaneous. He released her and bent over, groaning.
