Alan was half on his feet—depositing Annista onto the bench as he rose—before recognizing them.
Archie and Jock, two of their footmen.
“Och, sorry, Master Alan.” They stared.
Had Annista closed the front of her gown in time? A glance told him she now sat clutching it.
“We were looking for ye,” Archie said. “Ye are needed back at the manor—at once.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Wha’ has happened?” Annista repeated the question several times, though no one answered. “Is it Bonnie?”
That made young Jock shake his head. He would not look directly at her—too embarrassed, perhaps. He stared instead at the floor.
“The Master requires ye, Master Alan.”
“Verra well.” Alan shot a look at the men. “Wait outside.”
Even as they obediently filed out into the rain, he turned to Annista and seized her by the wrists.
“Get yersel’ dressed,” he said. “Here.” He snatched up her cloak, which had fallen away when he—Och, but she could not think of that. Why had she allowed it? Just as she’d always been a victim to her anger and indignation, had she fallen prey to her passion?
Her hands shook as she refastened her gown and her cloak. What had the men seen? Whom would they tell?
Shocking for her and Alan to be found in this remote, ruined place at such a pursuit. And yet—he was right—they were husband and wife. All right and legal.
They could presumably have each other any time they chose.
She thought about that as they left the building and fetched Chieftain from out back. Poor Jock and Archie would have to return on foot. Alan directed the horse off ahead of them.
Annista clung to his back, thinking ferociously. Why did his father require him? Was this good news or ill?
Ill, she could not help but imagine. Nought of good had happened recently.
To be sure, she and Alan had, by an odd accord, broken the promise they’d initially made, not to touch one another save by necessity. With her cheek pressed against his broad back and her arms wrapped tight around him, she weighed the fact that, in an odd way, touching him now did feel like a necessity, though not in any way she’d ever anticipated. Her fingers tingled from the texture of his skin, and the need to feel his lips against hers rivaled that for breathing.
As for what it had felt like having his mouth at her breast—well, there were no words. None. Could she henceforth live without that?
All this she contemplated as they raced back to the manor. Old Billy met them in the paved circle at the front of the house, to lead Chieftain away, and Lady MacKallan greeted them at the door.
“At last! Alan, hurry. Ye are required in the hall.”
“Why?” Alan asked, his face guarded. “Wha’ has happened?”
She shook her head. “The earls ha’ requested to see ye.”
“Me?” Alan stood, clearly flummoxed.
“Aye.”
“Well, then, let me go along and change my clothing.”
“Nay time for that. Go ye straight in.”
Lady MacKallan seized Annista’s hand. “Ye, come wi’ me.”
She towed Annista up the stairs to the solar. Though Annista strained to look back at Alan, he did not so much as glance at her before entering the hall.
