begin the walk to Perth, are we? he asked over his shoulder as he strolled casually into the woods.
Kerry stared at his retreating figure, not sure if she should shout after him that she had no intention of going to Perth, or flee with all her humiliation in the opposite direction while she could. God, oh God, how was it that she had picked the most beautiful stranger in all the world to shoot? He was breathtakingly handsomeshe had noticed that even when his face was contorted in that awful way when he was cursing the loss of his horse. His face, bless it, was shaped by angels, square and strong, with high cheekbones and a noble chin. And his eyes. His eyes were the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen, tobacco-brown flecked with shimmering green and gold. And he was tall, over six feet, broad shoulderedwhen he walked into the woods, she swore she could see every muscle in his hips and thighs move in all their splendor.
She had felt his arousal under her knee
Kerry suddenly whirled around. This was ridiculous! She had found herself practically panting last evening, watching his long, tapered fingers move as he spoke of England, the gentle curve of a smile on his lips, the sparkle of pride in his eye. How on earth she had ended up sleeping with him was beyond herbut it had given her a burning rash deep inside she could not scratch.
What madness! She had shot him! And in a few moments, they would go their separate ways, her apologizing one last time and he graciously making some little jest of it. She would not see this beautiful stranger again. So why was she almost breathless in her anxiousness around him? Had she forgotten she was a widow and barely eight months at that? For heavens sake, he was the son of an English nobleman!
This this preposterous infatuation was just one more thing the good Lord had thought to throw at her, one more thing with which she had to contend.
All right, there it was then, a silly infatuation with an exceptionally handsome man. Fine. She would take
her leave of him as she oughtbut not looking a fright. Her hair felt a complete mess; the Lord only knew what had happened to her hairpinsno doubt half of them were up on the road along with her bonnet.
Kerry abruptly dropped to her knees next to her satchel, yanked it open with a jerk that almost tore the handles from it, and dug until she found her hairbrush. She frantically pulled it through her unruly hair, but froze at the sound of his cheerful whistle.
Glorious morning, Mrs. McKinnon! he opined. Kerry slowly lowered her arm and looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was blindly and artfully tying his neckcloth. We should quite enjoy our walk.
He retrieved his rumpled riding coat, gingerly putting his injured arm into one sleeve, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there was a gaping and ragged hole in it.
Oddly embarrassed, Kerry shoved her brush into her satchel. Aye, it is indeed a bonny day. But Ill be walking to Dunkeld. Not Perth.
He paused in the dusting of his trousers to frown at her. What, do you think to wait for that coach yet?
Id wager it is hours before one comes through, if at all. I should think our chances of finding suitable transportation are much better if we start toward Perth.
I must be home, sir, she said politely, and came to her feet, self-consciously wrapping her hair into one big knot at her nape that she was fairly certain resembled a small animal attached to her head.
His frown deepened. Mrs. McKinnon, Dunkeld could be miles from here. Please be sensible and return to Perth where you can take another coach.
I doona intend to lose another day. My family will be frantic. And besides, I will find passage on a flatboat going upstream, not a coach. That, she thought, as the idea spilled out of her mouth, was a brilliant solution. If she headed due north, she would reach the River Tay, and from there, could follow the tributaries to Loch Eigg.
I cant let you do that, he said solemnly.
Surprised
Kerry stared at his retreating figure, not sure if she should shout after him that she had no intention of going to Perth, or flee with all her humiliation in the opposite direction while she could. God, oh God, how was it that she had picked the most beautiful stranger in all the world to shoot? He was breathtakingly handsomeshe had noticed that even when his face was contorted in that awful way when he was cursing the loss of his horse. His face, bless it, was shaped by angels, square and strong, with high cheekbones and a noble chin. And his eyes. His eyes were the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen, tobacco-brown flecked with shimmering green and gold. And he was tall, over six feet, broad shoulderedwhen he walked into the woods, she swore she could see every muscle in his hips and thighs move in all their splendor.
She had felt his arousal under her knee
Kerry suddenly whirled around. This was ridiculous! She had found herself practically panting last evening, watching his long, tapered fingers move as he spoke of England, the gentle curve of a smile on his lips, the sparkle of pride in his eye. How on earth she had ended up sleeping with him was beyond herbut it had given her a burning rash deep inside she could not scratch.
What madness! She had shot him! And in a few moments, they would go their separate ways, her apologizing one last time and he graciously making some little jest of it. She would not see this beautiful stranger again. So why was she almost breathless in her anxiousness around him? Had she forgotten she was a widow and barely eight months at that? For heavens sake, he was the son of an English nobleman!
This this preposterous infatuation was just one more thing the good Lord had thought to throw at her, one more thing with which she had to contend.
All right, there it was then, a silly infatuation with an exceptionally handsome man. Fine. She would take
her leave of him as she oughtbut not looking a fright. Her hair felt a complete mess; the Lord only knew what had happened to her hairpinsno doubt half of them were up on the road along with her bonnet.
Kerry abruptly dropped to her knees next to her satchel, yanked it open with a jerk that almost tore the handles from it, and dug until she found her hairbrush. She frantically pulled it through her unruly hair, but froze at the sound of his cheerful whistle.
Glorious morning, Mrs. McKinnon! he opined. Kerry slowly lowered her arm and looked at him from the corner of her eye. He was blindly and artfully tying his neckcloth. We should quite enjoy our walk.
He retrieved his rumpled riding coat, gingerly putting his injured arm into one sleeve, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there was a gaping and ragged hole in it.
Oddly embarrassed, Kerry shoved her brush into her satchel. Aye, it is indeed a bonny day. But Ill be walking to Dunkeld. Not Perth.
He paused in the dusting of his trousers to frown at her. What, do you think to wait for that coach yet?
Id wager it is hours before one comes through, if at all. I should think our chances of finding suitable transportation are much better if we start toward Perth.
I must be home, sir, she said politely, and came to her feet, self-consciously wrapping her hair into one big knot at her nape that she was fairly certain resembled a small animal attached to her head.
His frown deepened. Mrs. McKinnon, Dunkeld could be miles from here. Please be sensible and return to Perth where you can take another coach.
I doona intend to lose another day. My family will be frantic. And besides, I will find passage on a flatboat going upstream, not a coach. That, she thought, as the idea spilled out of her mouth, was a brilliant solution. If she headed due north, she would reach the River Tay, and from there, could follow the tributaries to Loch Eigg.
I cant let you do that, he said solemnly.
Surprised
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