stood.
“I think,” Andre said several minutes later when he opened the door to sharp pellets slicing at him and quickly closed it. “You may be too late. The courtyard is a complete sheet of ice. There is no sense in risking the horses slipping and breaking a leg. I have plenty of room here, although dinner will be simple. The cook left a kettle of stew on, so at least it will be hot.”
Shane remembered the pot of stew that had not fared so well on his ship. Dinner that night had been cold thanks to Abigail. He shook his head, still amazed he had not recognized the lass.
Andre looked at him quizzically. “You do not wish to stay?”
“What? Oh, aye,” he said when he realized his headshake had been misinterpreted. “I will nae risk the horse to slippery roads. I was just thinking on something else.”
Someone else. Someone with rich chestnut hair and velvet-soft brown eyes. Someone who would be expecting him home. The same someone who would expect him to share her bed. Something he could not do, much as his body was beginning to argue the fact with his mind.
Perhaps the storm had been a blessing after all.
Even though Ian had assured her Shane would not attempt to return in the middle of an ice storm and was perfectly safe at the neighbors, Abigail was still glad to see him when he rode into the bailey early the next morning. The skies were leaden and promised more foul weather.
But Shane had barely taken time to greet her when she asked if he’d broken his fast. Instead, he’d asked Ian to join him in the library. They had been behind closed doors for nearly an hour, and when they emerged, Ian looked grim as he came into the dining room where Jillian and she lingered over tea.
Abigail looked from him to Shane, who had gone past the door and was climbing the stairs. Jillian frowned, but Ian gave a slight shake of his head. Abigail pushed back her chair and stood. “Excuse me. I think I will join my husband.”
“Of course,” Jillian answered.
The door to Shane’s bedchamber was open and when Abigail arrived, she saw him packing. “Are we leaving?”
“I need to return to Edinburgh before this weather gets worse,” Shane replied. “That shipment of kelp cannae wait forever.”
Abigail moved toward her trunk. “It will not take me long—”
“Nae, lass. Ye are nae going.”
Abigail stared at him. “What? Why not?”
Shane finished stuffing clothes into a duffle bag and closed it. “I cannae be slowed down by a carriage, lass. The barometer I keep here is falling. I need to get through Glen Coe before the snow closes it in.”
“I can ride a horse. I promise I will not slow you down.”
“Two riders are always slower than one.” He picked up the bag. “Besides, I will nae put ye in danger.”
“But…it could be weeks before that pass opens up.”
Shane paused and set the bag down, motioning for Abigail to sit. With a sinking feeling, she did as he asked, sitting gingerly on the side of the bed. “You do not want to take me with you, do you?”
He sighed and sat down beside her. “’Tis better ye stay here where ye have the company of my cousins and Ian’s protection.”
“My place is with you.”
“Ye ken I spend most of my life at sea. The ship is nae a place for a woman.”
“You have a townhouse. I can stay there.”
“There would be no one to protect ye. Janet returns home to Albert at night. Ye cannae stay by yourself. Ye ken that.”
Abigail felt her lower lip begin to tremble. She bit her inner cheek to keep from crying. Shane would never agree to let her go to Edinburgh if she acted like a helpless ninnyhammer. “Janet and Albert would be close by. Kyla would stay with me. I could hire a footman or maybe a butler or—”
“Nae, lass,” Shane interrupted gently and took her hand.
Abigail frowned, trying not to be distracted by his warm touch. “I want to live with you. We are married.”
Shane took a deep breath. “In name only, lass. We have
“I think,” Andre said several minutes later when he opened the door to sharp pellets slicing at him and quickly closed it. “You may be too late. The courtyard is a complete sheet of ice. There is no sense in risking the horses slipping and breaking a leg. I have plenty of room here, although dinner will be simple. The cook left a kettle of stew on, so at least it will be hot.”
Shane remembered the pot of stew that had not fared so well on his ship. Dinner that night had been cold thanks to Abigail. He shook his head, still amazed he had not recognized the lass.
Andre looked at him quizzically. “You do not wish to stay?”
“What? Oh, aye,” he said when he realized his headshake had been misinterpreted. “I will nae risk the horse to slippery roads. I was just thinking on something else.”
Someone else. Someone with rich chestnut hair and velvet-soft brown eyes. Someone who would be expecting him home. The same someone who would expect him to share her bed. Something he could not do, much as his body was beginning to argue the fact with his mind.
Perhaps the storm had been a blessing after all.
Even though Ian had assured her Shane would not attempt to return in the middle of an ice storm and was perfectly safe at the neighbors, Abigail was still glad to see him when he rode into the bailey early the next morning. The skies were leaden and promised more foul weather.
But Shane had barely taken time to greet her when she asked if he’d broken his fast. Instead, he’d asked Ian to join him in the library. They had been behind closed doors for nearly an hour, and when they emerged, Ian looked grim as he came into the dining room where Jillian and she lingered over tea.
Abigail looked from him to Shane, who had gone past the door and was climbing the stairs. Jillian frowned, but Ian gave a slight shake of his head. Abigail pushed back her chair and stood. “Excuse me. I think I will join my husband.”
“Of course,” Jillian answered.
The door to Shane’s bedchamber was open and when Abigail arrived, she saw him packing. “Are we leaving?”
“I need to return to Edinburgh before this weather gets worse,” Shane replied. “That shipment of kelp cannae wait forever.”
Abigail moved toward her trunk. “It will not take me long—”
“Nae, lass. Ye are nae going.”
Abigail stared at him. “What? Why not?”
Shane finished stuffing clothes into a duffle bag and closed it. “I cannae be slowed down by a carriage, lass. The barometer I keep here is falling. I need to get through Glen Coe before the snow closes it in.”
“I can ride a horse. I promise I will not slow you down.”
“Two riders are always slower than one.” He picked up the bag. “Besides, I will nae put ye in danger.”
“But…it could be weeks before that pass opens up.”
Shane paused and set the bag down, motioning for Abigail to sit. With a sinking feeling, she did as he asked, sitting gingerly on the side of the bed. “You do not want to take me with you, do you?”
He sighed and sat down beside her. “’Tis better ye stay here where ye have the company of my cousins and Ian’s protection.”
“My place is with you.”
“Ye ken I spend most of my life at sea. The ship is nae a place for a woman.”
“You have a townhouse. I can stay there.”
“There would be no one to protect ye. Janet returns home to Albert at night. Ye cannae stay by yourself. Ye ken that.”
Abigail felt her lower lip begin to tremble. She bit her inner cheek to keep from crying. Shane would never agree to let her go to Edinburgh if she acted like a helpless ninnyhammer. “Janet and Albert would be close by. Kyla would stay with me. I could hire a footman or maybe a butler or—”
“Nae, lass,” Shane interrupted gently and took her hand.
Abigail frowned, trying not to be distracted by his warm touch. “I want to live with you. We are married.”
Shane took a deep breath. “In name only, lass. We have
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