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And it became harder, not easier, as the days passed.
* * *
On the day that marked a month since her arrival at Lochmore, she went with Angus and Jamie to The House to bid farewell to the engineers who were departing for Glasgow for a couple weeks to oversee purchases. Benneit was already at The House and when they came through the gardens Jamie ran ahead in search of his father. Angus turned to her as she paused and she smiled.
‘You go, Angus. I will linger in the garden a little. It is so peaceful.’
‘You need some of that, lass. I’ll send Jamie for you when nuncheon is served.’
Her eyes burned at the kindness in his voice, but she couldn’t answer. She was not surprised Angus saw through her. There was no judgement, only sorrow in his voice, and it threatened to unravel her flimsy defences. She sat on the wooden bench in the vine-covered bower where the laburnum was in glorious bloom, its clusters of yellow flowers as bright as the sun.
She knew immediately by the footsteps that it was Benneit coming up the path from The House. She stood, wishing she could sink into the vines and disappear. She was at her breaking point; she should not be with him alone. She tried to push her way between the vines to the small path that led around the house, but the branches caught at the ribbons of her bonnet.
With a muffled curse she tugged at them, but it was too late. Large, warm hands brushed hers away, turning her. His face was as masklike as ever, his eyes hooded as he began disengaging the ribbons from their green captors. He was standing so close that if she just bent her head it would rest against his chest. His arms brushed hers as he worked at the ribbon and she watched the shifting speckling of sun on his coat as the wind teased the bright yellow flowers in the vines above them. The garden was in summer bloom, a raw jumble of flowers and trees, the scent of pink jasmine entwined with richer honeysuckle. But she only smelt him—his warm musk scent with a cool earthiness beneath it.
She kept as still as a statue, breathing him in, her hands itching with the need to rise and feel him, drag up his shirt and scrape up his skin, mould over the hard planes of his stomach and chest, the silky straight dark hair that teased a line downwards. Then the ribbons fell free, but though he dropped his hands, he did not move back. She watched his chest rise and fall, faster and shallower than before, felt the shadow as his head lowered towards hers. There was an ache at the pit of her stomach—every part of her was clenching, gathering as if for a leap across a ravine. Her own breath was non-existent.
She had no idea what would have happened if Jamie had not come rushing out, his shoes crunching on the gravel. When she dared look at Benneit again as they joined the engineers for nuncheon in the sun parlour he was as calm as always—a polite, attentive, amusing host. There was no sign that moment had been anything other than him helping her with her bonnet. Still, he came to sit beside her at the modest table, his thigh so close to hers she felt her legs sucked towards its warmth, the heat like a contagion between her thighs, rising to her breasts like a devious tide no matter what she did to try to stop it.
As they rose from the table the side of his knee brushed hers and she could not help looking towards him and he did not mask his expression swiftly enough. It was there—the tension in his mouth and cheekbones and something very like fury in his quickly veiled eyes.
When he came out to put Jamie on his pony for the ride back and Angus helped her into the saddle she dared look at him again and before he turned from her she saw not anger or resentment, but confusion and such weariness on his face that whatever part of her heart remained shielded from him surrendered.
Would it be so terrible to give and take comfort? There was so little time left. Were scruples and honour and self-respect so important?
Jamie tucked his hand into Benneit’s where it rested on the saddle.
‘You promised you’d come with us to the north bay when the tide is out. There will be new treasures after the storm last night.’
Benneit smiled, closing his hand on Jamie’s.
‘Did I promise?’
‘You know you did, Papa! And Lochmores always keep their word, don’t they?’
Benneit nodded, his smile fading.
