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His grey eyes perked and he studied her for a long moment. “What are yours?”
“Mine?” She chuckled and took a sip of her drink. “I don’t know that I should be confessing such well-held secrets within days of knowing you.”
“But ye will?”
Her head tilted to the side, the chuckle still on her lips. “I’m stubborn. I do not care for things out of my control. I like my days planned to a fault. I found out today I’m not very brave—quite useless when looking at my own blood. And…” She cut off her own words.
His right eyebrow arched. “And?”
Another swallow and she drew a deep breath. “And I do not have a heart for love.”
“Ah, so that is the worry I see in your eyes?” He raised his glass to her. “Only a brave woman would admit that. But ye ken, love does not always come in a blinding flash of light. Sometimes it comes about without ye ever knowing it snuck up upon ye.”
She lifted her glass in response with a half-smile. “To the romantic in you.”
“And surely some wee ones running about your legs would show ye otherwise—how ye may have the very thing ye think ye dinnae?”
Her smile widened, frozen on her face.
This was where the lies needed to start.
There would be no marriage. No wee ones running about. But she liked the old man. Best to bite her tongue.
“Perhaps.” She inclined her head to him and took a long sip of her whisky.
“Ah, lass, ye don’t think these old eyes can see, but they do. I saw it that first night Evan introduced ye to me. Ye care for him whether ye admit to it or not. A great deal.”
She choked on the whisky in her throat and her teeth clamped down hard, fighting the innate urge to cough and clear every drop from where it was stuck. The liquid burned in her throat, but she swallowed against it, praying the contrived smile on her lips wasn’t too strained.
She looked away from the earl, her gaze fixing on the low flames dancing along the logs in the fireplace.
She cared for Evan?
She was a better actress than she’d given herself credit for.
Or had she fallen into the trap of what she’d sworn long ago she’d never do again—lie to herself?
{ Chapter 16 }
Breathless laughter at her lips, Juliet watched Evan’s large brown steed crest the edge of the craggy ground that flattened atop the hill.
Evan had been right, this was the place to view the whole of the Whetland lands. She could see for miles in every direction.
And she’d been right—she knew she’d win the race up to this vantage point. After riding this mare, Bumble, several times during the last few days, she had complete faith in its nimble footing on the rocky landscape. Evan’s horse was solid, able to carry his weight. Hers was fast.
Her horse pawed at a rocky outcropping, not at all winded from the chase up the low mountain and anxious for more speed.
Juliet leaned forward, stroking the side of Bumble’s sleek white neck. Evan had told her the horse had been named for the bee that had stung her and sent her on her first tear through the countryside.
She looked up as Evan’s mount approached her, a mischievous smile on her face. “I was beginning to wonder how far behind you were.”
His eyes lifted to the sky and he shook his head. “I didn’t stand a chance. You and that horse are the wind. Did you know she was that fast? I didn’t and I’ve known her since she was a foal.”
“I suspected. She delivered.” Juliet sat upright in the saddle. “I think she likes me riding her just as much as I like riding her.”
“She hasn’t taken to many, so it is a joy to see her unleashed.” He stopped his horse and his grey eyes settled intently on her, his words clearly meaning so much more.
“She probably just needed someone lighter, not one of your burly cousins, riding her.”
