****
The morning dawned frigidly cold. Sometime during the night the fire had died out, leaving actual icicles hanging from the frame of the doorway, which didn’t seal properly. Even now, gusts of cold air swept through the room. As much as she would have loved to have another romp before they left, common sense dictated that putting on clothes—not leaving them off—was the priority. She was shivering so badly that she was shaking, in spite of Niall’s warmth.
“’Tis nae wise to build a fire since we’ll be leaving soon,” Niall said. “I doona want ye catching the ague either.”
“Then I suppose we need to get going,” she replied, hating to release him.
Niall gave her a look she couldn’t interpret, then leaned forward to brush a kiss across her lips before he sat up and reached for his breeches. “Aye, lass. The sooner we start for home, the better for both of us.”
By twenty-first-century standards, there really wasn’t any hurry, but here, in the 1700s, being found together after spending the night in an empty cottage would have dire consequences. He’d be honorable enough to propose marriage. The notion wasn’t unwelcome, but the last thing she wanted to do was force him into a commitment that wasn’t of his own making. Even if such situations worked in romance novels, reality was quite a different thing.
What she really wanted to do was discuss last night—how incredible it had been and were they going to continue—although men did seem to balk when a woman said she wanted to “talk.” It would be wise to wait until they could be warm and comfortable and relaxed.
By the time she finished dressing, Niall had brought the horse around. “We’ll have to send someone back for the wagon, since the wheel is broken, but at least we won’t have to walk.”
After only a half mile, Charlotte wasn’t sure that walking might not have been a better idea. The gelding wasn’t happy to be carrying two people, since he was essentially a carriage animal, and pranced sideways. Having no saddle—and not being a natural horsewoman—Charlotte kept slipping sideways in the opposite direction, even though she wrapped her arms tightly around Niall’s waist. She pressed her face against his back for warmth, which limited her ability to talk. That was probably just as well, since he was concentrating on persuading the horse to follow his commands.
By the time they reached Inverness at midmorning, Charlotte was glad to slide off the horse. She ached, already feeling stiff, and was practically starving. After a quick breakfast of steaming porridge at a staging inn—which felt like a five-star hotel and restaurant at the moment—Niall rented a buggy to hitch the horse to and Charlotte gratefully, if not gracefully, climbed up on the bench and winced as she gingerly sat down.
Niall glanced at her. “Are ye sore?”
She assumed he meant from this morning and not last night. “I am not used to riding.” Then she felt herself blush. On their second round of lovemaking, she had ridden him. Rather recklessly, at that. She glanced up at him, hoping he hadn’t caught the double entendre. From his amused look, though, she was pretty sure he had. She felt her face heat again in spite of the cold. Perhaps they could “talk” this evening.
It didn’t take long to reach Beauly after that. As they rode through the gate of the castle, Simon led his mount out, accompanied by several men.
“We were going to start searching for ye.” He glanced at Charlotte, then back to Niall. “What happened?”
. Niall briefly explained what happened with the wagon, omitting the details of their overnight residence. Then he turned and helped Charlotte down. “I suspect ye will feel better after a hot bath,” he said as she limped up the stairs to the entrance. “And then, later, we will talk, nae?”
She was glad he’d been the one to suggest it. She smiled. “I’m looking forward to doing both.”
He opened the door and followed her inside. They had hardly gotten past the foyer when Fiona stepped out from the Great Hall.
“I was so worried about you,” she gushed to Niall. “Your da was concerned too, especially as the night wore on.”
“Were ye visiting last night and got caught in the storm?” Niall looked around, then back to her. “Is Keir here?”
“Aye, he’s here.” Fiona frowned. “We came over last night to drop off some paperwork for your da, and Keir slipped and fell on the ice as we were leaving, which spooked his horse and it stepped on him. The physician came out this morning and said he’s got some fractured ribs. He’ll need at least a week’s rest before he can leave.”
Something akin to a lead ball was settling in Charlotte’s stomach. Mr. Gordon was in Edinburgh. Keir was out of commission. Where was Fiona planning to stay? The thought had barely formed when the answer came.
“Your da offered me a room to stay, so I’ll be your guest.” Fiona laid her hand on Niall’s arm and smiled, not sparing Charlotte a glance. “Will it nae be wonderful to spend time together? We have so much to talk about.”
Charlotte strove to keep her expression impassive. She and Niall had a lot to talk about too, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen now.
Chapter Nineteen
It was going to be a long week. Niall managed to step back from Fiona on the pretense of removing his cloak. He cast a covert glance in Chalotte’s direction, but she wasn’t looking at him. Actually, she might have been a statue in the foyer for as still and rigid as she was standing.
“Your cloak?” he asked. “I’ll hang it with mine while you go and enjoy your bath.”
She turned then and studied him for what seemed like long, drawn-out minutes but was probably only a few seconds. Her expression was unreadable, but he had a feeling he was missing something. He just didn’t know what it was.
“I see ye’ve finally arrived home.” His father walked out of the Great Hall. “I was expecting ye back last night since we had guests for dinner. Did ye forget?”
He frowned. Forget? He didn’t remember Keir saying anything about them coming over. Then again, maybe he had. He’d been thinking about spending a whole day alone with Charlotte.
Charlotte’s chin lifted. “Excuse me. I need to get out of these damp clothes.”
