Brennan faced her and then forgot what he’d been about to say, which was idiotic, because he’d been rehearsing for an hour. “Jane.”
“Did I leave something behind when Lady Glendarril and I called on you?”
Well, that was a better excuse than the one he’d made up. “Aye.” Trying to stifle a scowl, he dug into his pockets, finding only some coins and some folded notes. He pulled out one of the papers. “The notes ye took for the viscountess,” he decided, handing the page to her.
Jane looked down at it, her attractive mouth twitching. “Ah, yes. Thank you.”
While Pogan stood to one side looking increasingly curious, Brennan shifted. “Would ye care to come see the village with me? Unless ye’ve been down there already. Or ye have someaught to see to.”
Saint Andrew and the heavenly choir. He’d known how to be bold and flirtatious and romantic once; he’d found a wife, after all, and a lovely, lively one, at that. But he hadn’t felt this … tightness in his chest for seven years, and he hadn’t had to be charming for better than eleven. If he’d described himself today, “bold” wasn’t a word he would use, any longer. “Cautious” fit him better. Or “wary.” And perhaps a wee bit broken.
“It was just a thought,” he went on, reaching behind him for the front door. “I’ll be back here for dinner tomorrow, so ye dunnae—”
“Will you give me a moment to fetch a wrap?” she interrupted, already turning up the stairs.
“Aye. Of course.”
Well. She hadn’t laughed at him, anyway. Brennan took a quick breath. For God’s sake, he was a bloody Highlander. He saw something he wanted, and he took it. That would likely send her fleeing in terror, though, so mayhap patience and a light touch would serve him better. It suited him better, these days.
“Temperance said she liked yer drawings,” Coll drawled from down the hallway.
“Aye? Nae one perfect one, but I think with all three I may have found enough of what she wants to go forward.”
“When will ye have the final drawing?”
“I’ll have it to ye by Hogmanay. We cannae begin building until spring, so dunnae be in such a damned hurry, giant.” Aside from that, he hadn’t done a thing but half tear apart his own library and sketch Jane for the third time since she and the viscountess had left his house.
“If we’re nae in a damned hurry, what are ye doing here already?”
“I thought Miss Bansil would like a walk through the village without having to worry over having everyone buzzing about like bees at seeing the MacTaggert brides.”
His cousin nodded. “She’s a shy one, Jane is. But I dunnae expect ye’ll have any more luck than the lasses in convincing her to leave the house, so—”
“I’m ready,” Jane said, trotting down the stairs again.
She’d donned a heavy blue coat that looked too big for her, but at least it would keep her warm. These ladies from England didn’t seem to like the Scottish winter very much. Uncle Angus had said on at least a thousand occasions that Sassenach lasses were more delicate than hothouse flowers, but the ones the MacTaggert brothers had found seemed fairly capable.
“Do ye fancy a walk, or should I have Gavin bring the coach around?”
“I think a walk would be splendid,” she returned, pulling on her bonnet and tying the blue ribbon beneath her chin with swift, confident fingers.
Ignoring Coll’s skeptical look, Brennan pulled his own gloves back on and offered Jane his arm. When she gripped his coat sleeve, he was certain he could feel her warmth running all the way from his wrist and down his spine.
They set out from the house, descending the hill and keeping to one side of the hard, icy road. She’d worn her walking shoes, but he kept her arm pinned against his side in case she lost her footing. “Is there a particular place ye wish to see, or will ye let me give ye a tour?”
“Give me your tour, if you please,” she returned promptly. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“Actually,” he said, turning his head to view her with his good eye, “I was wondering if I needed to apologize to ye.”
The cold-touch pink of her cheeks deepened to red. “For kissing me, you mean? Heavens, no. I should apologize to you. I … You’re a handsome man, and I’m afraid I kept staring at you. I’m just … I’m not very polished, and so—”
“I’m nae so polished, myself,” he cut in, the meaning of her words just beginning to sink in. She liked him, and she thought she’d been what, too forward? “I should have asked yer permission before I kissed ye. If ye dunnae want me doing it again, tell me so and I’ll do my utmost, though I cannae guarantee that I’ll keep from staring right back at ye.”
She stumbled a little, and he gripped her tighter until she found her feet again. “I don’t understand,” she muttered.
“What dunnae ye understand, lass? Ye’ve a wit to ye, and the prettiest brown eyes, and I wanted to kiss ye. I should’ve asked ye first, but I didnae want Lady Glendarril thinking either of us was being improper, so I risked it.”
“You didn’t think I was acting like a hoyden?”
He’d seen nuns who acted less reserved than she did. “Nae. Jane, ye’re a fine, fair lass. When I saw ye in the library at Aldriss, ye caught my attention in a way nae other lass has caught it in … years. I’d like to know if that doesnae sit well with ye.”
They walked at least half a mile in silence. Coll had called her shy, and Brennan had certainly seen evidence of that, himself, but he hoped she could muster something to say. He couldn’t—and he wouldn’t—continue his pursuit if it was one-sided.
“Lady Glendarril has asked me to travel with her and Lord Glendarril to the Continent right after Hogmanay,” she said abruptly, her words fogging the air. “If I don’t wish to go, then she’s offered to find me employment elsewhere.”
For a moment he felt like he’d been punched in the chest. “Ye’re nae even to stay the winter, then?” For God’s sake, how could he figure this—her—out if she was to leave in less than a fortnight?
“I suppose not. It … I could remain in the countess’s employ, of course, but everyone, including me, knows she doesn’t need me here. I detest not being necessary.” She shook herself. “But that’s not why we’re here, is it? You’re showing me the village.”
“Aye.” If she left the MacTaggerts, he’d never see her again. He knew that for a certainty. And that didn’t sit well with him. At all. “Aye,” he repeated. “Most visitors, nae that we have that many,” he forced himself to continue, as they crossed a short bridge into the village proper, “come into Pethiloch this way, over the bridge. An old Laird Aldriss had it built because in the spring the water’s just deep enough to wet a lass’s skirts when she’s sitting in a wagon to drive across the stream and his lady didnae like walking about with wet hems.”
“Does the stream have a name?”
She didn’t want to speak about her employment, clearly, but neither had she responded to his declaration that he liked her. A fairly weak declaration it was, he supposed, but then he’d only known her for three days. “Aye. The Duilich Sruth. It means ‘annoying stream.’”
Her mouth quirked. “You’re bamming me.”
“I amnae. That’s what the lady called it, and the name stuck. But as I said, most visitors come this way, which is why the stable’s on one side of the street, and the Round Cow tavern is on the other. A place to put yer animal, and a place for a cheap mug and some warmth.”
“It’s pretty. Pithiloch is, I mean.”
“Aye. It’s been well kept-up, mostly thanks to Laird Aldriss and his generous funds.” When she lifted an eyebrow, he nodded. “And aye, everyone about kens where the money truly comes from, though the idea of being beholden to an Englishwoman doesnae sit well with most of ’em. We all pretend we dunnae know that Lady Aldriss funds everything.”
“Is that why she claims to be disliked here?”
“Partly. Mostly it’s because she left the Highlands.”
“She’s said she found it lonely.”
Brennan nodded, still somewhat surprised at how very easy it was to chat with Jane Bansil, even if she seldom spoke about what she might truly be thinking. “Uncle Angus’s idea of entertaining is to go down to the Round Cow and buy a round of drinks. He’s nae one for proper soirees or dinners.”
“And for Lady Aldriss, proper soirees and dinners are some of her favorite things in the world.”
She shuddered as she spoke. “Ye’re nae fond of such things, I take it?” he asked.
“I never know what to say, and standing about alone while everyone else is chatting is … humiliating.”
“Ye just need to find someone who’ll stand there with ye,” he returned. “This is the bakery. Mrs. Wass makes a fine Tain cheddar bread that’ll make yer peepers roll back in yer head, and Mr. Wass makes shortbread biscuits that ye’ll dream about after but one taste.”
Pushing open the door, he stepped aside to let her enter the bakery. She stopped in the middle of the entry, one hand on the door. “It sits well with me,” she said in a rush, and walked forward again.
Heat stirred deep in his chest. “What sits well with ye?” he asked slowly, moving around in front of her to keep her from retreating farther. “Ye tell me. I want to hear the words.”
Her bosom rose and fell with her quick succession of breaths, but he wasn’t going to relent. This was important. Damned important. He’d moved beyond the age of fooling about, but if this was simply her first taste of flirtation and she had no intention of allowing anything more than that, he needed to know.
“Oh dear,” she muttered almost soundlessly. “You liking me sits well with me. And I enjoyed the kisses. I don’t know what it all means, but I liked it. I like it.”
“I’m nae certain what it all means, either,” he returned in the same tone, “but I like it, as well.”
Perhaps that wasn’t entirely true, because while he did have an idea what he wanted, at the same time he’d become … not quite comfortable with his life, but accustomed to it. Before he risked that and risked himself, he wanted to know her better.
“What do we do, then?” she asked, her mind clearly traveling along the same road as his.
“First,” he said, pulling out a chair from one of the quartet of small tables at the front of the bakery and motioning her to sit, “we have a bit of Tain cheddar bread and a hot cider. And then we chat.”
Whether it was the comfortable, quiet setting or the dash of whisky Mr. Wass always added to the cider “for flavor,” over the next hour Brennan and Jane ate nearly an entire loaf of bread and he learned all about her life before she’d come to be in the employ of Lady Aldriss. For God’s sake, the lass had never had an easy moment. And while her cousin Amy had been kind enough to her, the new Mrs. Niall MacTaggert had also been too young for most of their acquaintance to do anything about improving Jane’s situation.
“Ye stood up to Niall and made him alter his plans,” he said aloud, taking another swallow of cider. “That’s nae an easy thing, Jane.”
“I don’t want to sound overly romantic or sentimental,” she returned, “but he and Amy were so perfect for each other that the way he kept trying to take such careful steps not to upset her began to annoy me, honestly. I mean, if you’re going to be in love, then be in love.”
Brennan sliced off another piece of bread and handed it to her. “Aye. There comes a time when everyone around ye can see what’s afoot, and if ye cannae, then it’s up to someone else to set ye straight. Or at least give ye a kick in the arse.”
Her quick grin flashed. “I knew as soon as I opened my mouth that my aunt would sack me, but even if Lady Aldriss hadn’t offered me a roof and a bed beneath it, telling Amy to make a blasted decision still would have been worth it.”
Deliberately he brushed her fingers as she reached for the butter. “Have ye nae been in love yerself, then, Jane?”
Color tinged her cheeks again. “No. I mean I’ve seen a man or two I thought handsome, but by now I’m practically an antique.”
“I dunnae know about that. Yer mouth is soft and sweet enough.”
“Brennan, please.” She ducked her head as if trying to hide.
“Should I stop? Does that embarrass ye?”
“I’m not embarrassed,” she retorted, lifting her chin again. “I don’t like to be teased.”
He leaned closer across the table, pushing aside the remains of the bread. “I am nae teasing ye, Jane Bansil. Ye heat me up inside, in a way I’ve nae felt for some time. I also ken that I’m a novelty to ye. I cannae begin to guess how many of the Sassenach lads must be blind nae to have seen ye, but I’m here now, and I see ye.” Slowly he took her fingers in his. “I like what I see. I dunnae want ye going back to London to sit with some other wealthy lass.”
Keeping his gaze, she picked up her cider and drained it. “I’m sorry,” she rasped, “but that doesn’t make any sense. I’m … dull.”
How many people had told her that during her life? he wondered. Enough to make her believe it, clearly. “We cannae all be the sort who kidnaps a lass and sweeps her off to Gretna Green, I reckon. That’s a sweet fairy tale, but nae all gestures need to be so grand.” He took her hand again, ignoring the faint cluck of interest from Mrs. Wass at the back of the shop. “Ye’re nae dull. Ye’re cautious. As am I.”
“Can a person be so cautious she misses her chance to be in a fairy tale?” she asked after a moment, the sadness that made him want to wrap her in his arms touching her eyes again.
“Nae. I’ve nae ever heard of such a thing.” Brennan smiled. “I’ll tell ye what. Ye’ve seen the MacTaggert dinners. Every soul sits wherever they choose. I’ll plant myself somewhere in the middle tomorrow night. Ye come sit beside me, Jane. That’s precisely how bold ye need to be.”
Perhaps it was his own pride talking, but he wanted her to approach him. He wanted to know that he hadn’t simply found a woman who didn’t know about his past and therefore looked at him with more interest than pity, and that he was in the process of falling for her for no other damned reason than that. And he needed to know soon, because unlike his cousins, he couldn’t afford to hie down to London for weeks and weeks in order to woo a lass who was aiming for nothing but a quiet, uncomplicated life.
Now, though, she would likely fret for the next day and a half over whether she had enough courage to sit beside him or not. Brennan pushed back his chair. He didn’t mean to torture her, for God’s sake. “I’ve still a good half the village to show ye. Do ye feel fortified enough to venture out in the cold with me again?”
“Yes. I actually feel quite warm.” Standing, she took his proffered arm, and they stepped back outside into the cold Highlands winter.
Things like this simply didn’t happen to women like her. That sentence kept beating about in her skull, bashing against the secret thoughts that perhaps Brennan Andrews truly did like her enough to wish to … court her, and that “Jane Andrews” had a rather nice ring to it.
That was indulging in daydreams again, though, and she certainly knew better than to do that. Especially when she had a decision about her employment to make, and very soon. At the same time, there they were, the two of them, currently walking past a small dress shop with frost on the windows and snow plopped artistically atop the sign reading: MILLY’S FINERY FOR LASSES.
“Is this cold for the Highlands?” she asked, mainly because she felt like she’d been silent for hours.
“It’s a bit balmy today, actually,” Brennan returned. “In late January the true cold comes. Some of us even put aside our kilts for trousers then.”
“So, it gets too cold for even a Scotsman’s knees,” she quipped, waiting for him to grin and then unable to keep her own mouth from curving in response. He appreciated her humor, and that all by itself was rather intoxicating.
“That it does. I meant to ask ye, are ye going to join the rest of the family at church on Christmas Day?”
“I expect I will. It still seems odd, to not have the family opening gifts or singing carols.”
“Just wait another week. We make up for it then.” He pointed out yet another tavern, then continued up the road toward the small dock where a handful of fishing boats had been tied. “Well, that’s near the end of Pethiloch. What do ye think of our village?”
“It’s pretty. And everyone has seemed very friendly,” she offered, doubly grateful that it had been him showing her about alone rather than with one of the MacTaggert brides. They’d bypassed going into the jewelry store simply because of the crowd standing about there, all of them talking about how fine it was to see young Eloise back where she belonged, and how lovely Amy was and whether she’d give Niall a strong Highlands son.
“We have a lending library as well, or that’s what my house has become, anyway.”
“That’s good. I had you figured for the village scholar.”
Turning away, his profile folded into a brief grimace before he faced her again. Oh dear. She’d missed something important—or, worse, insulted him—and now he was probably wondering how in the world he could escape her company without offending her.
“I have a few books I’ve brought with me that I could give for your collection,” she added. “I’d be happy to share them with other readers.”
“That’s very generous of ye. Thank ye.”
They continued along the wooden dock, toward the open loch beyond. A handful of children scrambled about on the ice near the shore, their excited shrieking both at odds with and complementary to the picturesque scene around them.
“What I mean to say is, do ye like it here?” Brennan burst out. “Is it a place ye’d nae mind seeing fairly often, or will these few weeks be enough to give ye yer fill of the Highlands? Could ye leave and nae look back and be satisfied?”
Good heavens. He wanted to know if she would mind living there. If she would be willing to tolerate weather cold enough to drive a Scotsman to wear trousers. Most important, he wanted to know if she wished to live there with him. A fourth choice. One she’d never expected and had no idea how to react to.
Her knees felt abruptly wobbly, and she grabbed onto a post with her free hand. It wasn’t a request for her hand in marriage, but she didn’t think she was too far off in believing it to be the lead-up to one. Her.
“Whoa. Steady, lass,” he said, shifting to cup a hand beneath her elbow. “I’ve kept ye out in this weather for too long. Let me see ye home.” He waved a hand at a passing cart, and the hay-laden wagon rolled to a stop. “Sòlas! Give us a ride up to Aldriss, will ye?”
“Aye, Brennan,” the driver replied, tipping his cap as they reached the near wheel. “It’s warmer behind the hay than up here.”
“Thank ye.” They moved around to the rear of the cart, and then Brennan slid his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the back end.
It made her breathless and he released her far too quickly, but she preferred that he think her chilled rather than cowardly. Aside from that, when he hopped up beside her Brennan put an arm around her shoulders and tucked her up against his side. Oh, this—this—was something to which she could become accustomed. The fact that they had a logical reason for her to be in his arms didn’t hurt, either.
“I’m sorry, lass,” he murmured as they bumped along the road. “I wanted to spend the afternoon with ye. I didnae think how cold it must be for ye. Och, I’m an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. Don’t even think such a thing.” That came out more forcefully than she meant, so Jane shivered a little for good measure. “I had fun today. And I enjoyed the company.”
“As did I.” He paused. “If I’ve overset ye, then I apologize. If … Well, perhaps we’d best keep to a walk. Nae sense rushing into anything. I dunnae like the idea of ye leaving my life, is all. That’s for me to manage, I suppose. Ye dunnae need another burden.”
That last bit stopped her heart. She knew perfectly well what he meant—that he’d begun to realize she was far too timid and reserved, and that he might have made a mistake with his initial attraction.
She was timid. She was reserved. As they reached the front drive of Aldriss Park, she allowed him to help her down from the wagon and walk her to the door, and then she fled inside, up the stairs, and into her bedchamber. Slamming the door felt a bit satisfying, but it didn’t solve the true problem—which seemed to be her.
Brennan Andrews liked her. She hadn’t gone out of her way to dress provocatively or flirt outrageously. In fact, she’d done nothing but be herself, and he liked her for it. Taken by itself, that didn’t sound so terrible.
She liked him, as well. She liked that he was thoughtful and had an understated sense of humor, that his office had stacks of books and papers strewn across every surface, that he spoke to her like someone his equal. He wasn’t some idle, rich aristocrat, and he wasn’t some larger-than-life heroic, brawny Highlander who flung villains into the loch or rescued kittens from burning buildings. He was a man. A man who’d been hurt, physically and emotionally, and who stood tall despite that.
Jane crossed the room, put her hands on her hips, and glared at her reflection in the dressing mirror. Rail straight, black hair pulled tight with not a strand out of place, a simple, high-necked gown with long sleeves, and not a bit of makeup on her face. That was indeed her. But at the same time, it wasn’t entirely accurate, any longer. She felt warmer inside, and perhaps an inch bolder. And more than anything else, she felt like she was getting in her own way.
Did she want to remain Lady Aldriss’s unneeded companion? Did she wish to sit and knit or embroider and chat about nothing in particular with some woman who paid her, go to dress fittings and evenings at the theater and soirees and dinners because a lady shouldn’t attend such things alone? Be a … a warm body who could help someone else fulfill her obligations to Society?
It would be easier, certainly. All she had to do was nothing more than she already did on a daily basis. She’d already demonstrated to the one man who’d ever shown an interest in her that she was cow-hearted, and as a result he’d already begun to back away. She could decline to sit beside him at Christmas Eve dinner and finish this without having to utter a word. Nothing would change. Ever. Only the setting. Not the circumstances.
Jane turned her back on herself. She wasn’t very good company, after all. As she caught sight of her small writing desk, though, she walked over to it and opened the lid. Inside lay the sketch Brennan had made for her of her perfect library. Picking it up, she examined it again. Shelves and shelves of books, sliding ladders to enable her to reach the higher stacks, comfortable chairs beneath the window … and there to one side, half hidden by a globe and a flower vase, a man’s legs.
She looked closer. The legs had boots on and were crossed at the ankles. Someone else sitting in her perfect library. Bare knees, and the edge of a kilt. Him. Brennan had put himself in her library, presumably sitting in another comfortable chair and reading.
Jane took a quick breath. This vision wasn’t so very different from her perfect future. He’d only added one thing. An important thing. And she liked seeing it that way. The only hitch was that it would take courage on her part to make it happen. To leave behind everything she knew and step into the unknown. Did she have that much courage?