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She stared at him as if in shock. “And who do these belong to?” she blurted, when he handed them to her.
He shrugged, feeling rather perturbed by her strange attitude. Where had the attentive woman of the evening before disappeared to? “I imagine they belong to Nathaniel’s aunt. This is her house. She’s away on a tour of the Scottish Highlands. She’s a devout scholar of botany and went there to sketch.”
“So this is her home?”
“Yes. Her father’s, too, until he passed away.” He supposed she hadn’t seen a house as grand as this before, which might explain her curiosity. “He had it built.”
It was as if he’d told her she was the sole heir to a grand fortune, because her eyes lit up.
“When, when was it built?” She grabbed his arm, her expression fascinated. When he shrugged, she tugged at his arm most insistently. “The year...it’s important.”
“Well, let’s see.” He cast his mind back, with some effort. “I was a lad. Nathaniel and I used to meet here shortly afterwards, in the late 1790s, so I suppose it was 1769, maybe 1770.”
When she threw herself against him and squeezed him in a mighty grip, he was almost winded because he was so startled.
“Good, good,” he said, wondering if she was perhaps short of some essential thinking matter. Had Nathaniel sent him the local simpleton to take care of his needs? Whatever it was, her odd attitude only seemed to endear her to him even more, for he found he wanted to take her under his wing and protect her. Something to do with her voracious appetite for pleasures of the flesh, no doubt, he told himself with a wry smile.
“Now, come on,” he urged, snatching up his knapsack and his sword. “Let us be on our way, or the Gloriana may leave without me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
This was definitely the best dream Sunny had ever had.
As they stepped out of the front door of the cottage, the remaining mist whispered away from the surface of the dew-covered grass, slinking off into the green undergrowth. The air was fresh and high with earthy scents. The dawn sky was livid, the horizon a hazy blur of red-streaked clouds. In the distance, two gulls circled. Sunny took in the sight, her senses filling with the experience. She felt terrific, exhilarated, and more alive than she’d ever felt before. Even closer to nature, too. All that hot sex, she thought to herself.
Cullen grabbed her hand, and she was guided along by him, quickly covering the length of the path and out, into the meadow beyond.
Except, it wasn’t the path.
When she glanced over to where the main road should be, she realized it wasn’t actually there. Instead, there was only a narrow dirt track. Wild grass of the type found on the moors was heavy and thick beneath the thin material of her borrowed slippers. There was no sign of the road whatsoever, and Sunny blinked away the strange feeling of disorientation.
It’s a dream, she reminded herself, but something had begun to niggle at her consciousness. Perhaps it was the fresh air in her lungs. Perhaps it was the vital, undeniable presence of the daylight. Or perhaps it was Cullen’s very real, very fierce grip on her hand, and the look of his powerful shoulders as he guided her across the open land toward the coast. No, it was all of those things and the most basic: the grass, the feeling of the damp grass under her feet, springy, resistant. Real.
And if the grass was real...
She looked at the man who’d made passionate love to her all through the night. She eyed his hair, flowing free to his shoulders. She took in the concentrated, determined look in his eye when he glanced back to make sure she was with him.
If the grass was real, did that mean he was real, too?
“Wait.” She pulled her hand free of his and stopped dead in her tracks. They’d covered over half the distance. Within moments, the cliffs would be in sight.
“Sorry, too fast for you, girl?” He flashed a quick grin, but his brow was furrowed. He was obviously worried about making his appointment.
Everything he’d said to her during their night together crowded on her consciousness. “My God, this is real.”
Her words seemed to string out into the atmosphere and weave away from her. Disorientation swamped her. The sense of fun from the night before had gone, whisked away with the advent of morning. All that was left was confusion and doubt about her sanity.
Cullen moved closer. That helped, marginally.
“Real?” His expression showed confusion, but he smoothed back her hair where it was blowing across her vision, and he looked at her in the tenderest way.
Get a grip, she told herself. There had to be an explanation. “You said you were leaving England, yes? Tell me, what’s this about? Why are you a dishonored man?”
“Did Nathaniel not tell you?”
Uselessly, she shook her head, unable to do more than that to urge him on.
“Yes, well, I s’pose you’ve a right to know, before you spend any more time with me.”
