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‘But you love that book, Papa!’ Jamie’s brow furrowed with worry.
‘Of course I do, master explorer. Perhaps I don’t want you sailing away.’
‘I will come home, you know.’
‘Good. Where are you sailing now?’
‘Jo was going to show me Foula like she promised in London. I’ve looked everywhere from here to there.’ He jumped up along the western coast of Scotland. ‘I followed the letters just as we said. F-O-U-L-A. But I cannot find it.’
Benneit swung him into his arms. ‘Keep going.’
She watched their profiles. He was dressed in riding clothes, but his cravat was already halfway undone and his hair was ruffled from the wind...or perhaps a woman’s hand... She might have been mistaken about The House, but there was no saying he did not have a mistress somewhere nearby.
It is none of your business if he does, she reminded herself.
It wasn’t the first time these foolish thoughts and suspicions came to taunt her. But they were still less disturbing than the way her body leapt to attention every time he entered a room, like a wan flower suddenly bathed in a ray of sunlight breaking through thick curtains of clouds.
She berated herself for her foolishness, but still she did not look away, absorbing the sight of him just as that plant absorbed the light. With each passing day he was moving further and further away from her memory of the man who had married Bella. Or perhaps she had changed—she was no longer embarrassed by how handsome he was, but she found it harder and harder to look away from his powerful, austere face with the faint aquiline line of his nose and the shadows beneath the sharply defined cheekbones. The man she met six years ago had been charming and smiled more, and yet had been lesser. She did not quite understand this contradiction. But she, too, had been young and arrogant in her own way, defensive and prickly, as he had said. The change in the man before her highlighted everything that had changed in her.
‘There! There!’ Jamie all but lunged out of his father’s hands, reaching for the spot high above the Scottish shore, but Benneit held him easily, his face relaxing into a smile which just like the Scottish sun was rare, but when it came was breathtaking. Jo turned away again to inspect the desert beneath her fingers, soaking in the quiet discussion between them until Nurse Moody appeared in the door. Jamie baulked at going with her, but at his father’s promise he could dine downstairs that evening he clapped his hands and agreed to be led away. Jo moved towards the door as well, but Benneit’s voice stopped her in the doorway.
‘Mrs Langdale. Jo.’
She turned. It was dark outside now and without a fire in the room he was nothing more than a collection of shadows and harsh planes. For a moment he seemed part of the now murky painting on the wall, a figure stepping out of an image of the world that was both promising and terrifying. He moved towards her, out of the shadows, the light of the sconce lamps in the corridor touching the angles of his face with gold. He looked distant suddenly, once again removed from Benneit Lochmore who joined Jamie and her for their simple dinners. He looked like a threat.
‘Your Grace?’ Her voice shook a little, but not enough, she hoped, to be noticeable.
‘I wanted to thank you. I’ve just been with McCreary in the village and he was telling me, again, how helpful you are. It occurred to me we are perhaps beginning to presume too much upon your generosity. When you are not helping keep Jamie out of trouble you are to feel free to spend your time as you like and go where you wish.’
She raised her chin, a little piqued at this return to formality after the comfortable rapport that appeared to have developed since their visit to The House.
‘I am perfectly capable of making my own choices, Your Grace.’
He sighed, a harsh exhalation that was more weary than impatient, and her defences crumbled. She was prickling again.
‘I am not being taken advantage of, Benneit. I enjoy sitting with Mr McCreary—I find numbers relaxing. They are so very...undemanding.’
The harsh look on his faced melted into the smile that did so much damage and he moved forward. In the light coming from the doorway she could see how tired he looked. In another life, another body, she might have had the temerity to trace her fingers down his lean cheek, to comfort and soothe. But she was only Jo and she just clasped her hands and waited.
