answered, her eyes widening as the giant took her by the arm and moved her rather unceremoniously into a chair by the work table. Maria wondered briefly if this was the way all men treated women outside of the boundaries of court life, or if this was just the Scottish way. She sat down, though, without protest. “He wanted to see to them himself, but I asked him to wait...until this afternoon. He told us he would be coming back again then.”
John pulled up the only other chair in the room and sat before her. As he reached for her hands, Maria quickly withdrew them, placing them protectively in her lap.
“You don’t need to see to them,” she said hopefully, looking into his handsome face. “I will allow your physician to change the dressing when he comes back.”
But the young woman knew she could not long withstand either his gaze or his outstretched hands.
“There really is no need,” she repeated, lowering her eyes to his hands. She hadn’t come here to have him see to her dressings. She had a task to accomplish, one she had rehearsed in careful whispers with Isabel before the old woman had drifted off. She knew exactly what she had to say and do. But everything Isabel had told her then was becoming far more complicated. Here, alone with this tall and forceful man, she was beginning to forget her words. So close to him, she could smell his fresh, masculine scent and, as much as she tried to avoid it, she could not help glancing up at his handsome face–at his swarthy and chiseled features, at the black hair swept back from his broad brow and his deep blue eyes.
Indeed, the longer she sat, the more conscious she became of the continual flush she felt in her cheeks, of the growing heat and chills that seemed to be battling for control of her insides. The longer she sat, the more impossible her task appeared to become.
Laying his hands in his lap, John waited patiently, quite contented for the moment to study her in the light of day. She was even more beautiful than by candlelight, her lips even more enticing.
He had assumed her to be a lady, and he was quite certain that she was. A very proper one. Her bandaged hands in her lap, she sat erect on the edge of the chair, clearly discomforted by the present situation, quiet but alert. Clearly, she had something to say to him; she wouldn’t have come to his cabin otherwise. But whatever it was, Maria was having a difficult time with it.
John knew she was not unusual in that. He recalled a journey to Spain, in which he had conveyed the Count Pedro de Ayala to his home. The old gentleman had spent a number of years in the court of the Scottish kings, and together the two travelers had laughed over the diplomat’s witty comparisons of Scottish ways and the ways of the rest of Europe. In Ayala’s view, John recalled, only English women enjoyed more freedom than Scots women in expressing their feelings...on whatever topic was at hand. John himself had never made a study of it, but he’d been hard pressed to argue the point.
At any rate, like so many other women John had encountered in his travels, Maria was struggling to overcome the distance between herself, as a woman, and John, as a man. And there was an aloofness that graced her character, as well. An elegance in her manner that accented natural beauty, but also served to shield it.
But there was no arrogance, he thought. The arrogance and the vanity that had been displayed in Caroline Maule seemed to be completely foreign to this young noblewoman. In fact, her lack of presumption, he knew, was partly the reason he’d originally thought her so young.
But perhaps this was all a front, designed to protect her from potential harm. After all, her position was one of extreme vulnerability, and John knew she had very real reasons to be concerned. She must be wondering what fate lay in store for her, for she was completely at his mercy while aboard the Great Michael . And John had caught glimpses of that
John pulled up the only other chair in the room and sat before her. As he reached for her hands, Maria quickly withdrew them, placing them protectively in her lap.
“You don’t need to see to them,” she said hopefully, looking into his handsome face. “I will allow your physician to change the dressing when he comes back.”
But the young woman knew she could not long withstand either his gaze or his outstretched hands.
“There really is no need,” she repeated, lowering her eyes to his hands. She hadn’t come here to have him see to her dressings. She had a task to accomplish, one she had rehearsed in careful whispers with Isabel before the old woman had drifted off. She knew exactly what she had to say and do. But everything Isabel had told her then was becoming far more complicated. Here, alone with this tall and forceful man, she was beginning to forget her words. So close to him, she could smell his fresh, masculine scent and, as much as she tried to avoid it, she could not help glancing up at his handsome face–at his swarthy and chiseled features, at the black hair swept back from his broad brow and his deep blue eyes.
Indeed, the longer she sat, the more conscious she became of the continual flush she felt in her cheeks, of the growing heat and chills that seemed to be battling for control of her insides. The longer she sat, the more impossible her task appeared to become.
Laying his hands in his lap, John waited patiently, quite contented for the moment to study her in the light of day. She was even more beautiful than by candlelight, her lips even more enticing.
He had assumed her to be a lady, and he was quite certain that she was. A very proper one. Her bandaged hands in her lap, she sat erect on the edge of the chair, clearly discomforted by the present situation, quiet but alert. Clearly, she had something to say to him; she wouldn’t have come to his cabin otherwise. But whatever it was, Maria was having a difficult time with it.
John knew she was not unusual in that. He recalled a journey to Spain, in which he had conveyed the Count Pedro de Ayala to his home. The old gentleman had spent a number of years in the court of the Scottish kings, and together the two travelers had laughed over the diplomat’s witty comparisons of Scottish ways and the ways of the rest of Europe. In Ayala’s view, John recalled, only English women enjoyed more freedom than Scots women in expressing their feelings...on whatever topic was at hand. John himself had never made a study of it, but he’d been hard pressed to argue the point.
At any rate, like so many other women John had encountered in his travels, Maria was struggling to overcome the distance between herself, as a woman, and John, as a man. And there was an aloofness that graced her character, as well. An elegance in her manner that accented natural beauty, but also served to shield it.
But there was no arrogance, he thought. The arrogance and the vanity that had been displayed in Caroline Maule seemed to be completely foreign to this young noblewoman. In fact, her lack of presumption, he knew, was partly the reason he’d originally thought her so young.
But perhaps this was all a front, designed to protect her from potential harm. After all, her position was one of extreme vulnerability, and John knew she had very real reasons to be concerned. She must be wondering what fate lay in store for her, for she was completely at his mercy while aboard the Great Michael . And John had caught glimpses of that
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