Page 8 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

She shivered, her skin erupting into goosebumps even though Eiric was a solid warmth behind her, his chest radiating heat against her back as they rode, but she could hardly bring herself to let go of the saddle and wrap her arms around herself.

Riding was yet another thing that her mother had rarely allowed her to do, and she feared that she would fall right off if she let go.

“Are ye cold, lass?” Eiric asked her then, as he brought the horse to a stop. “Ach, this is a place as good as any to stop for the night.”

“I thought that you were in a hurry,” Marion reminded him.

“I just didna want to be in that house,” Eiric said, as he hopped off the horse and offered his hand to Marion. She took it gratefully, carefully climbing off the saddle, and only realizing that she had been holding her breath when her feet found solid ground once more. “It doesna do any good to travel when ye’re cold. We dinna want ye to fall ill noo, do we?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Marion assured him, though the way that she rubbed her arms, trying to get some warmth into them, said otherwise. “A fire would be quite nice though.”

“Here,” Eiric said, and proceeded to take off his plaid before he draped it over Marion’s shoulders. She took it gratefully, holding it in her hands and wrapping it tightly around herself, just as Eiric began to set up camp for the two of them.

Marion watched him as he walked around the small clearing by the road, tending to the horse and gathering small logs for the fire. Soon, the fire was burning brightly, bathing Eiric in its incandescence.

She couldn’t take her gaze off him. Under the soft light of the flames, Eiric looked like the subject of paintings that she had only seen in houses like Mary’s manor, the orange glow bringing out the red of his hair and contrasting the green of his eyes.

“Eiric, remind me . . . how are we related?” Marion asked.

“We’re third cousins. Yer maither is me maither’s second cousin,” Eiric said, and there it was, Mary thought. It wasn’t unheard of, far from it; it wasn’t even uncommon for first cousins to have relations in the noble families of England. Soon, though, they would be in Scotland, not England, and the truth was that Mary knew little about that place. Her mother had done her best to keep her away from her heritage while she was growing up.

Besides, what does it matter? I’m getting ahead of myself.

He must have had many women running after him, Marion thought. How was she to compete with any of them when she was so unfortunate with her looks? Surely, a man like Eiric wouldn’t have given her a second glance had they not known each other ever since they were children.

“Where have ye gone, lass?”

Eiric’s voice caught Marion by surprise, and she jumped a little, turning to look at Eiric who was suddenly sitting by her side. She wondered how long she had been sitting there, lost in her thoughts, and within moments, she felt her face burning as the blood rushed to her cheeks.

“Nowhere,” she said hastily, shaking her head. “I was only watching the fire.”

It seemed to be a good enough excuse for Eiric, or at least one that he didn’t question. The two of them sat in silence, Marion’s gaze glued onto the fire as it hissed and crackled, devouring the logs underneath.

She was far from home, further than she had ever been before. She couldn’t even remember the last time that she had spent the night in the woods; in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time that she had travelled. She had spent year after year in that house with her mother and father, alone, save for Jane from the kitchens, and Miss Alby, one of the older servants who had a soft spot for her and had always been kind to her. Jane had been her only friend, but Marion wasn’t allowed to spend any time with her either; her mother didn’t want her to be around the servants.

Marion never understood what she feared.

“Ye’re doin’ it again,” Eiric said, and Marion couldn’t help but laugh. It was true, her mind had a tendency to drift far away, since that was the only way she could entertain herself when she would spend hours alone in her chambers. “What are ye thinkin’ about?”

Marion gave him a small shrug. Even if she tried to explain it to him, she knew that Eiric would never understand.

In fact, she didn’t quite understand it herself.

“I was wondering why you came,” she lied, but it was a lie small enough to sound like the truth. “I haven’t been to many balls, but I haven’t seen you in any of them that I’ve attended. Why this one? Why come all the way from Scotland for a ball?”

“I came to honour me cousin,” Eiric said with a small shrug. “We may be family, but we’re nay close family, and we dinna see Mary and her parents often. Me faither sent me to reaffirm our bond, our alliance.”

Marion frowned. There was something about the way that Eiric spoke that told her he was lying, as though it was a piece that he had rehearsed over and over. She couldn’t think of a reason why he would be lying about such a simple thing, though.

Perhaps I’m being paranoid . . . silly. It’s perfectly natural for his father to send him on such missions.

“It must be a chore, coming all the way from Scotland here,” Marion said. “I dread the travels ahead of us. I wish we could simply . . . show up in Scotland!”

“Ye’ll get used to it soon enough,” Eiric assured her. “I dinna even mind anymore where I sleep. I could even sleep on me horse, I reckon!”

“Oh, I don’t know if I could do such a thing,” Marion said, a small smile on her lips. “I like to see new places . . . I simply don’t like being on the way.”

“But Marion . . .” Eiric said, his voice trailing off as he looked around them. Marion followed his gaze, looking at the trees and their leaves, illuminated by the fire, at the sky with its myriads of stars, burning even brighter than the flames. “The way is the most beautiful part.”