He shook his head in disbelief. “Because ye dedicate your chastity to your art like a bloody Vestal Virgin tending the temple flame. I want to know what good your chastity does you.”
Right now, staring at this spectacular man and reading the desire in his eyes, she couldn’t think of a single viable answer. “It keeps me safe,” she said weakly.
He shook his head again, in denial this time. “Not good enough, Marina. You must ken that all the good stuff in life carries a hint of danger.”
“I’m not feeling wise at all right now,” she whispered and turned away as if the sight of all that male beauty scalded her. She knew she should say no, but she so wanted to say yes. This was like being ripped in two.
Giddiness made her head reel, and she fumbled for something to keep her upright. Her legs felt ready to crumple like paper.
“Marina, lass, I’m sorry. Forgive me for being a blockhead.” Strong fingers wrapped around hers as he stepped in front of her. “I shouldn’t harangue you when you’ve just fallen off a mountain.”
This moment now felt like falling off a mountain. There was that same dizzy terror, that same sensation of losing her connection with solid ground.
Both pride and common sense told her to reject Fergus’s touch.
If she meant to leave Achnasheen tomorrow, what use was prolonging the agony with more physical contact? But both pride and common sense grew more tattered by the second. So she clung to his hand and didn’t object when he caught her behind the legs and hoisted her high in his arms.
“Let’s get you back to the castle.”
“My work?” she said, even as she rested her aching head on his shoulder.
She drew an unsteady breath. Fergus smelled so marvelous. Fresh air and leather and lemon soap, and something that was him alone, a scent that she’d remember for the rest of her life.
“You mean all those drawings of me?”
She didn’t respond to the sardonic question. After all, what could she say?
He jiggled her as he picked up the sketchbook and passed it to her. Before she realized how revealing her actions were, she hugged it to her bosom like the most precious treasure in the world.
She waited for some mocking comment, but he merely settled her on her pony. “Let’s call a truce, Marina,” he murmured, staring up at her with a concerned expression. “You dinna have to be strong all the time.”
How wrong he was. She did. Even if right now, her strength didn’t strike her as an admirable quality, but the reason for her excruciating loneliness.
When he whistled for the dogs, they came streaking over the hill, barking. He caught the rein and clicked his tongue to the pony. She should tell him she was perfectly capable of riding her horse back to the castle, but it was so nice to have someone taking care of her. Someone she lo…
She brought the traitorous thought to a shuddering halt. Blinking away futile tears, Marina stared straight ahead while the pony Fergus usually rode ambled after them. She’d developed a strong affection for these sturdy little horses with their stoic nature and broad backs. She’d developed a love for the wild landscape, too, however unsuccessful her attempts to paint it. She also liked the people who lived in this isolated valley. Jock and Maggie and Kirsty and Jenny, and the servants and crofters and shepherds she’d met.
She’d be sorry to leave Achnasheen.
The twist of her lips held scant amusement. Sorry? She’d be devastated. And not because she’d miss everything she’d listed, although she would. Her departure would leave her desolate, because she dreaded parting from the tall, red-haired man who led her pony along the rough track.
The man who made her want to hit him.
The man who made her want to kiss him.
As the castle came into view like something from a fairy story, Fergus’s astringent question echoed in her mind. What use was her chastity to her? If she gave in now, what harm would ensue?
She recalled that instant of brilliant clarity when she’d thought she might die. Her greatest regret then had been that she’d let fear overrule her desire for Fergus. During these long days in the hil
ls, she’d come to trust him. Per l’amor di dio, he’d saved her life twice. Wasn’t it time to grant him the hero’s traditional reward, the favors of the rescued lady?
To her relief, he didn’t speak as they plodded through the hills. Only as he pulled the pony to a halt in the courtyard and lifted her from the saddle with more of that blasted consideration did he say anything. “You know, it’s rather sad that when you go, you’ll have only the painted version of me to remember, when for the sake of one small word, you could have all you want of the real man.”
The acerbic note to his words didn’t hide the aching regret underlying them. She bit back a choked whimper and stumbled as she reached the ground. Fergus caught her up against him before, to her chagrin, he let her go.
“Be careful or you’ll fall,” he said in a low voice.
Marina had a grim feeling that was true. If she stayed any longer at Achnasheen, she would indeed fall.