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Annie looked at his face. It was a kind face, but rugged and tanned from his work out on the land. His eyes were the most vivid hazel she had ever seen and she could barely tear her eyes from them to even take into consideration the rest of him. He was very tall, she had to crane her neck to look up to him, but the fine features and laughing eyes made it worth any ounce of pain. Reluctantly she tore her eyes away from his, and looked him over quickly. She didn’t wish to appear rude, and so she made her passing glimpse swift. She took in his broad shoulders and the tapering hips that made her feel tiny and powerless. It was an odd sensation, she had never really thought of herself as being particularly weak, or even that feminine before, but he made her feel as delicate as a china doll. He truly was an impressive figure of manhood, and she would have had to have been half dead to not find him attractive – but that just made her even more nervous.
“Of course,” she said, finally responding to his gently asked question. “It is a pleasure to meet you Mr Stott.” Awkwardly she looked down towards her feet and held out her hand for him to shake. He clasped it and held it tenderly for a moment. She couldn’t help but notice his large, strong hands with those long and tapering fingers. She could see tiny scars where he had suffered nicks and cuts as he undertook his work, and feel the hard skin from riding out on the land and pulling on ropes on board ships. They were hands that would always catch you if you fell, she thought as a bolt of electricity flashed through her entire body.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, his deep baritone voice rippling through her like music. He bent down and raised her hand to his lips and, in a move she hadn’t expected, turned the palm over and unfastened her glove. He pressed his lips slowly to the inside of her wrist, and then carefully buttoned her back up. Her entire body quivered. Nobody had ever done such a thing to her before; it was so intimate, so sensual. Whatever she might think of him as a man, her body was certainly more than happy to respond to his advances. She felt light, shivery, almost faint with pleasure as he took her arm and tucked it into his own.
“So, how was your journey?” he asked politely again.
“It was an experience,” she admitted with a wry smile. She had never been so frightened in her life. “There was a gentleman in my carriage; he didn’t say a word to a soul the entire journey. We were all sure he was some kind of gangster, or gun for hire. He certainly didn’t seem the warm and friendly type. He had the most spectacular moustache, and was constantly chewing on a small piece of wood – and he stared at everyone as if he hated us all.”
“He sounds horrible, but it sounds as if you managed to make some friends to at the very least discuss his peccadilloes with?”
“I did. There was a lovely older couple, they got off at Billings, were going to see their daughter. She married a banker apparently and is expecting. And then there was Mr Craven. He is a Minister, is going to be building a chapel somewhere near us I believe. They were all most kind.” He stopped her by an old gig. It was sturdy, but clearly hadn’t been used in some time.“I can only apologize for the gig my dear, as I said I only got word first thing this morning that you were coming and so it is a little dirty,” Mackenzie said, as if he was reading her mind. She looked up at him, a smile on her face.
“I don’t mind dirt. I’ve been a maid for over ten years Mr Stott, dirt I can handle in spades,” she said bravely. She was rewarded with a huge grin. He had the cutest dimples and his eyes literally sparkled when he was happy. She let him assist her onto the dashboard of the gig, and watched as he heaved her trunk up behind her. He barely seemed to have to even step into the tiny carriage, his legs were so long, and it looked a little uncomfortable for him to be so cramped up as he clicked to the horse to get moving.
She didn’t really know what to say to him, and suddenly she felt utterly exhausted. He smiled down at her. “You look about all in,” he said as he pulled a blanket from under the seat and tucked it around her knees. “I know it’s warm now, but as the sun starts to set it will get quite chilly – and if you are tired you’ll probably need to sleep. Don’t you worry if that pretty little head of yours nods its way over to lean on my shoulder, I’ll take good care of you and have you safely tucked up with Myra in no time at all.” Gratefully she tucked herself up against him, and as the waves of tiredness engulfed her she soon drifted into a light sleep. She hadn’t felt so safe since she had left home all those years ago and she allowed herself to sink deeper into her dreams.
“Miss Cahill, Annie wake up! Are you alright? You were screaming and moaning,” Mackenzie said, his face a picture of concern as she was jolted awake. She gazed around at the huge mountains and the unfamiliar scenery, but was completely disorientated by the feel of his big, warm hands on her own. It was entirely too delicious, and distracting and she pulled away quickly.
“Oh, I was only dreaming,” she said dismissively. She wasn’t ready to admit those dreams to anybody, certainly not a man she barely knew. She had never spoken of the reason why she had left the Earl’s employ, and she wasn’t ready to face up to it and speak of it now – or ever. But it was good that he cared for her, though she was left wondering why she should have the nightmare now, of all times. She hadn’t had the dreams in years though they had once been a part of her everyday existence, torturing her and making her dread the nighttime hours. No, it was just because she was overtired, and that everything was so strange and new. She was bound to feel a little discombobulated, she would get over it all in no time, and she would never need to speak of it ever again.
“We can go on now, I’d like to rest properly and I can’t wait to see Myra and Carlton again,” she said determined to change the subject, though something in Mackenzie’s eyes told her that he may let her off now because she was tired, but that he wasn’t the kind of man to let such a thing go entirely. She would need to remember that, and to make sure he never suspected that it was anything more than just a bad dream because she was so utterly and completely fatigued.
“Well, if you are sure, but I’m here if you ever want to tell me anything. I am like a closed book – I never tell anyone’s secrets to a soul,” he assured her. “Now you’re awake I can tell you a little bit about Montana as we go if you’d like?”
“That would be lovely,” Annie said glad of the change of subject and the chance to bury her thoughts and fears where they belonged once more. “Can you tell me about the mountains please? They truly are majestic, aren’t they?”
Annie barely heard a word Mackenzie said, but he seemed happy enough to give her the full guided tour of his home. She sat quietly and wondered why she had ever thought that this could be a good idea. She should have known that those memories would come back at some point. She couldn’t bear it. She simply didn’t know what to do. Mackenzie was such a nice man and he genuinely seemed to care for her. She couldn’t drag him into her own personal hell; it would not be fair on him. Yet, she so desperately wanted to be free of it all, to be able to start a new life. Why should such a thing, one not of her doing, have the potential to ruin everything?
