“Ye are right. I have to admit, the landscape here is,” she paused, searching for the right word. One that would encapsulate the full description of what she was thinking. “’Tis breathtaking,” she said finally.
A huge smile broke out on his face, making his eyes twinkle in the firelight. He acted as if she had just given him the greatest of compliments. “Now ye are understanding. Breathtaking is the perfect word for these lands and why I love them so. What do ye miss aboot yer home?”
The question caught her off guard. It was unexpected and she didn’t think he was interested in her and the things she liked.
“The openness of the land. The sky that goes on and on with no end in sight. ’Tis calm, predictable. Which my life was until no’ that long ago. My betrothal? That was aught but predictable.”
He pushed off the wall and approached her. Reaching out a hand, he tenderly tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her jawline, causing her to shiver. “That must have come as a shock for ye.”
Worrying her lip betwixt her teeth, she broke their gaze and nodded. “’Twasnae aught that I could have predicted. I had ne’er thought my father would do such a thing. Or that my mother would agree to such a union. The day I found out, it stung as if I had been slapped.”
Rory frowned, his eyes darkening. “I dinnae think that parents should use their children as bargaining tools.”
Alana chewed the inside of her cheek afore answering. “Daughters are good for naught more than that.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “Dinnae say such things. Ye are worthy of much more than that.”
She shook her head. “To my family and my clan, I am no’,” she said sadly. She didn’t make the admission to garner his sympathy. She was only stating that she understood her position.
Taking her hands in his, he pulled her up to standing. The blanket slipped down as she stood, but Rory being the perfect gentleman didn’t let his eyes roam below her face. She was fully clothed, and all her most private parts were covered, but the smock she wore was thin and she was for certs that he would be able to see the outline of her body through the material.
“I would ne’er want my daughter to have such an outlook on life. She will ken her worth and ’twillnae be how I can use her as a bargaining chip.”
His words meant so much to her in that moment. Tears threatened. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his waist in a hug. For the briefest passage of time, Rory stiffened against her, but then relaxed and surrounded her with his warmth as he returned her embrace, resting his chin on her head. His huge arms engulfed her. In that moment she felt treasured. Protected. Safe.
They stood that way for a long time. Not moving. Just enjoying the moment of the strength of each other’s arms.
Later, as they settled into the one bed the croft offered, they laid closer than ever, but didn’t touch. Not yet.
What was she thinking?
Not yet.
Not ever.
She and Rory could never be together. Whilst she may not ken all that being laird entailed, and the decisions that, as laird, her father needed to make. However, she was for certs that defying this order would not only condemn her clan to poverty and leave them unprotected from attack, but it would also bring harm to the Hart clan. Or worse yet, war. She would not be the cause of any such ramifications.
As Alana drifted off to sleep feeling safe, warm, and content, she kenned that the feelings she was beginning to harbor for Rory would not be easy to forget.
And she didn’t ken how she was going to survive when he left her on the doorstep of her betrothed and walked out of her life forever.
Chapter Nine
Rory woke atdawn the next morn. Opening his eyes, he watched Alana as she slept. She was facing him, long eyelashes sweeping her cheeks, her full lips slightly apart, her chestnut hair splayed across the pillow. An unfamiliar pang hit him. One that made him want to wake up to this same scene every morn.
“Shite,” he mumbled under his breath.
He had no right longing for such things. But his heart wouldn’t listen. Instead it kept conjuring more images for him to see. Scenarios for him to wish for.
If their circumstances had been different, Rory could see a future with Alana. If they had met at a Highland gathering orceilidh,mayhap they would find themselves in a very different situation. He could see himself drawn to her from across the room. He could imagine the pull of her making his feet move to approach her and ask her to join him in a dance. He had never been much of a dancer, but for Alana he would make an exception. That alone told him he was letting himself be drawn in by her far deeper than he should.
Never afore had he had dreams of settling down with a woman.Dancingwith a woman. He wished he could seek guidance from Alpin. His brother would tell him whether he was daft to even consider such things or if he was scared of the commitment. The thought had entered his mind. Not that he jumped from bed to bed. He did not. Hepreferred his days spent in solace. Was he scared of sharing his peace?
He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands roughly over his face—to wake him up and to clear his mind from the errant thoughts that would serve him no purpose.
Mayhap Alana had bewitched him. It was the only explanation he could find plausible.
“Good morn,” Alana mumbled shyly, her lids still heavy with sleep, her voice low.
