Dylan remembered no such thing, but he smiled back, charmed. “I’m sure it will be wonderful.” Glancing back at Natalia, he held out his arm. “I missed you,” he murmured, as he led her to her chair.
She blushed a bit but made no comment. After she was seated, he took his own place. When the Macphersons turned to leave the room, he protested, “Have dinner with us. There’s plenty of room.”
Patrick looked as if he’d like to agree, but Mrs. Macpherson pulled him toward the door that led to the kitchen. “Nonsense, young man. We wouldn’t dream of it. Have dinner with your lovely wife.”
And so, at long last, Dylan was alone with Natalia.
“How was your day? Did Mrs. Macpherson show you around?” As he spoke, Dylan began offering her the covered dishes spread in front of them.
Natalia served herself, skipping the haggis. “Mrs. Macpherson was very helpful. This house is wonderful, Dylan. Truly. I like it very much.” She gave him a shy smile that warmed his heart.
“Anything you’d like to change?” He hoped not, but he was more than willing to give her the opportunity. He hadn’t forgotten Basingstoke’s advice.
She shook her head. “Everything is perfect, just the way it is. However, the solar is empty.”
“Any thoughts on what you’d like to do with it?” Dylan smiled, amazed at how right it felt to have this boring little domestic discussion.
“What was it used for when you were a child?”
He thought for a moment, and an image came to him. He remembered racing around the great empty space, while his mother stood in a pool of light, her face and clothes covered in paint.
“My mother was an artist. She used the solar as a studio.” How could he have forgotten such a thing? It unsettled him to realize how much of his childhood he’d locked away in the far corners of his mind. “I wonder if there are any of her paintings still in the house.”
“We’ll look first thing tomorrow,” Natalia promised him. “It would be a way to get to know her better, wouldn’t it?”
Once again, she surprised him. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand in an attempt to let her know how much her offer meant to him.
“How old were you when you lost her?”
Her question chased away the happy memories and brought forth the ones he tried so hard to forget. “I was seven.” He released her hand and returned his attention to his plate. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember much about her.”
“I was four when my mother passed away.”
Natalia’s soft comment reminded him he wasn’t the only one who’d dealt with loss.
“She died in childbirth, trying yet again to give my father a male heir.” Her voice held a subtle prompt. She obviously wanted to know how Fiona Blake had died, but his mother’s suicide still hurt too much, so he changed the subject.
“Did you have our things taken to my grandfather’s bedchamber?”
Natalia looked away, and her cheeks flushed. “Your things are there. But I put my own in the green bedchamber.”
Dylan mentally counted to ten, determined not to let his anger and disappointment get the best of him. “Separate rooms? I thought we’d reached an understanding in Edinburgh.”
“We did.” Natalia turned even redder, if such a thing were possible. “I won’t turn you away tonight, should you still wish to come to me. But I’d like you to leave afterward.” Her voice turned accusatory. “Or am I too have no privacy at all?”
She won’t turn me away.For a moment, nothing else registered. His immense relief briefly blocked the rest of what she’d said. But then the words sank in, and he glared down at his food in an attempt to keep from turning his anger and disappointment on her. So, she wanted privacy, did she?
More likely, she just wanted to maintain the distance she’d tried to impose between them. She knew it would be impossible once he held her in his arms all night.
Hopefully, she would change her mind after they’d made love.
In any event, he decided not to argue the point. She’d been remarkably accommodating so far, but the stubborn set of her jaw convinced him she wouldn’t bend on this point.
“I will come to you tonight. But I’ll leave afterward, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”
He no longer had the slightest interest in his meal. He was starving for something, but it wasn’t food.
Natalia made one last desperate attempt. “You won’t change your mind and give me a little more time?”
