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Clara smiled, knowing what he had in mind.
Still, she had other ideas. “Here’s a distraction—James, would you conduct me on a tour of your home, please?”
He frowned at the unexpected request. “Yes. There’s one room in particular which will hold great interest for us.”
Clara stepped gently onto his shoe, pressing her slippered toes onto his to tease him. “I do believe I’ve spent time there already. Conduct a house tour,please?”
“Very well,” he said, amused. “Here you have the drawing room.” He waved about unnecessarily. “Never spent much time in it, but of late I’ve developed a fondness for it—due to a certain memory.”
“A good memory, then?”
She’d spoken lightly, but his tone was somber. “It’s here that a miracle took place.”
“A miracle?”
He nodded.
“An angel appeared in this room, perhaps? That sort of miracle.”
“We can call you that, aye,” he replied, still solemn.
“Angelic, am I?” She ran a fingertip along the stubble on his jawline. His breathing hitched. “It’s more than evident that you are no expert in matters of religion, Mr. Robertson.”
His mood shifted distinctly. His gaze dropped to the floor.
She squeezed his arm. He glanced up guardedly.
“What is it, James?”
He shook his head, dismissing her question, and bent to rub his lips on her neck.
“Please tell me.”
He straightened.
“Damn your attentiveness,” he whispered eventually, his look half-dismayed, half-adoring. “I’d have been able to ignore mere prying, but I see your concern for me.” He cleared his throat. “You jested that I’m no expert in religion. Indeed, I make no such claim, especially as to its practice. But I have more than a passing acquaintance with its theory. I studied divinity at university for a time.”
Clara blinked at the unexpected revelation.
“Wedohave universities in Scotland. Since 1400 or so.”
His tone was bland enough, but she saw that her words had hurt him.
“I beg your pardon, James, for causing offense. I’d have been more surprised hadnotattended university. As you’re not a man of the church, however, I didn’t knowwhatyou studied.”
He nodded stiffly, but his hands were gentle as they rubbed her arms.
“Where did you study?”
“University of Saint Andrews. I started at St. Mary’s College, to train as a minister for the Kirk. But within the first year, I traded my black gown for scarlet.”
“I don’t understand.”
James’s fingers hovered over the laces at the back of her dress, then grasped them. She held her breath, waiting for him to avoid the topic by opening her dress.
With a resigned look, his hand stroked down her back.
“At St. Andrews, divinity students wear black robes. Students at the other faculties wear red.”
