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He brushed the rain from his face with his sleeve without even letting go her hands, as if she might flit away if he did. It streaked mud along his beautiful cheek. The fierceness in his eyes faltered at her silence and again she saw the look that she had seen but not understood before—pain, uncertainty, loneliness. Her voice was husky with her own pain and need when she answered.
‘Of course I care. How can you not know that?’
He let go of her hands and touched her cheeks, his fingers cold as they slid over her damp skin, tracing the warmth where her tears were mixing with the rain.
‘Jo. I need to hear it. In your voice.’
‘Oh, God, Benneit. I love you so much. I am tired of holding it inside me, but I’m terrified of letting it out. I am afraid to believe you. You think you care, but it is only magical mice and soon the solstice will be over and you will forget we were even friends. I have none of the makings of a Duchess...’
‘Yes, you do, you little fool, but more importantly, you have all the makings of my wife. You have my love, my heart and far too much of my mind. The only thing you lack is some sense. As your husband it will be my duty to help you rectify that lack, as challenging as that task may be.’
‘I’m too plain...’
‘Stop saying you are plain. What does that even mean? That you don’t look like a doll on a shelf? Well, you don’t. You look like Jo and I can’t stop looking at you. I have spent more time looking at you against my will, and searching for you against my better judgement, and lusting after you against my very sanity these past weeks. I see you. Just as you see me. I don’t know how it happened, but I cannot imagine passing a single day without you. I cannot imagine who I am without you any more. God forgive me for saying this, but not having you would be as bad as not having Jamie. He needs me, but I need you.’
* * *
Benneit held her as she sank against him, sobbing into his shoulder. He wanted to take her back home and strip her of her cold clothes and hard defences and sink her into a warm tub, preferably with him, and make love to her for a week until she admitted the truth—that she was right for him. She was a fool sometimes, but not so much of a fool she couldn’t admit to that truth if he made it absolutely clear to her by whatever means he possessed.
Just not in the mud, perhaps.
She finally calmed, wiping her eyes with his cloak and leaving streaks of mud like war paint from temple to chin.
‘I’m covered in mud, Benneit Lochmore.’
He smiled and carefully brushed a smear from under her eye and brushed his mouth across hers again.
‘Serves you right for bolting, little pixie. I don’t blame you for not having faith in my ability to rescue my sorry behind from my own stupidity, but I will become annoyed if you don’t have more faith in yourself. And in my love for you. Now up we go. Jamie is likely to be frantic that I have not managed to catch you and Mrs Merry and Beth will have my hide for keeping you out in the rain like this and destroying another dress. I shall count on you to redeem my character on all fronts.’
They squelched up to the carriage and Ewan opened the carriage door, his face split in a grin, but he said nothing as Benneit helped Jo inside. Benneit placed his boot on the step and stopped.
‘Ewan. I’m going to impose on you a little further. Ride Lochlear to the village and have a word with Father McManus. I want his politic opinion about how soon I can wed Mrs Langdale in light of my being jilted by the McCrieffs.’
‘Knowing McManus, he’ll say as soon as humanly possible. He’s no fan of the McCrieffs and the villagers themselves are still of two minds about the possibility of a Lochmore marrying a McCrieff. They’d likely rather than Englishwoman, especially this Englishwoman.’
‘I’m glad to know we are of a mind, Ewan. This week, then, if not tomorrow. Have him invoke some local custom or saint that will make this a boon.’
‘I’ll say you made the offer inside the Standing Stones. That will go down well and you know McManus will spread that word faster than he can down a dram of whisky.’
He swung on to the gelding as Benneit entered the carriage and pulled Jo on to his lap to wrap his cloak about her, wishing he could unwrap her and hold her to him, nothing but Jo. They were wet and muddy and cold and he was so happy he felt foreign to himself.
