curiosity. Perhaps beneath all the quiet elegance and the reserve, he might find her true self. The real Maria.
He only wondered why he felt so drawn to the notion of bringing that Maria out.
Maria didn’t have to look up to know that he was studying her. The silence between them was beginning to unnerve her, but she didn’t have the courage to break it. She turned herself slightly in the chair.
This is foolishness, she thought, growing angry with herself. He is just a man. A warrior accustomed to making decisions. She glanced briefly into his face and then lowered her gaze once more.
From the blush that remained on her fair skin, he knew that his closeness made her uncomfortable. But the devil take him, he decided wryly, if he’d pull his chair back and put some distance between them. Proper or not, she had come to his cabin of her own will, and she was just too damned attractive for him to let her off the hook. She wanted something. That’s why she’d come. But she was too shy or perhaps too scared to ask. Well, he wasn’t about to make it easy for her. The longer it took for her to ask, the better it was, as far as he was concerned. Even if the fog lifted today, they would be at sea for at least a few more days, depending on the wind. And the prospect of Maria’s beautiful face to look at made the thought of this journey enjoyable for the first time.
Having Maria aboard could keep Caroline Maule at bay, John thought, and mulled over for a moment the way to accomplish it.
Maria knew she had to break the silence. But while her mind struggled to find the words, her eyes focused on the Highlander’s hands. So different from what she remembered of her husband’s soft and delicate hands, John Macpherson’s were large and strong. She looked at the soft wisps of dark hair on the back of them, the skin weathered and dark from the sun.
“I’ve never known anyone so content just sitting and studying hands,” John broke in with a low rumbling laugh. He held them to the light, trying to study them himself. “Aye, quite handsome paws, they are, I should say. With such a talent for healing. To think that these are the very same hands which I have to thank for bringing you here to my cabin.”
Maria looked up quickly, shaking her head.
“Nay, Sir John. You have it all wrong. The reason for my visit...” The young woman blurted, her eyes fixed upon his face. The openness of his gaze on her, his full mouth breaking into a wide, warm smile made her breath catch in her throat. Once again, she sat dumbstruck, lost in the deep, sea blue of his eyes. Vaguely, she took in the rest of his face–the skin around his eyes wrinkled and tan from his broad smile and from the kiss of the sun.
John lowered his hands to his lap. Her eyes right now brought to mind the young hawks his older brother, Alec, still enjoyed training. That is, when his wife, Fiona, wasn’t setting them free. Maria, right now, looked like she was ready to take flight. When he spoke again, his voice was low and gentle.
“I was only jesting, lass. You certainly need have no fear–nor any particular reason, for that matter–in coming here.” He looked into her eyes for only a moment, and then turned his gaze away, nudging one of the cups gently toward her across the table. “It’s not whisky, only barley water.”
Maria reached over and took the cup in her two hands to drink. She wasn’t thirsty. But she was in desperate need of something to shield herself from his charms, and from the feelings that were beginning to emerge within her. Feelings that had hardly flickered with life in her marriage. Feelings she had begun to think she might never again experience.
Feelings she did not want to experience now.
“Is your companion feeling better?” he asked in an effort to make small talk. He watched as she placed the drink back on the table.
“She is...well, no, she is not...” Embarrassed, Maria paused, staring at the cup. Concentrate, she chided
He only wondered why he felt so drawn to the notion of bringing that Maria out.
Maria didn’t have to look up to know that he was studying her. The silence between them was beginning to unnerve her, but she didn’t have the courage to break it. She turned herself slightly in the chair.
This is foolishness, she thought, growing angry with herself. He is just a man. A warrior accustomed to making decisions. She glanced briefly into his face and then lowered her gaze once more.
From the blush that remained on her fair skin, he knew that his closeness made her uncomfortable. But the devil take him, he decided wryly, if he’d pull his chair back and put some distance between them. Proper or not, she had come to his cabin of her own will, and she was just too damned attractive for him to let her off the hook. She wanted something. That’s why she’d come. But she was too shy or perhaps too scared to ask. Well, he wasn’t about to make it easy for her. The longer it took for her to ask, the better it was, as far as he was concerned. Even if the fog lifted today, they would be at sea for at least a few more days, depending on the wind. And the prospect of Maria’s beautiful face to look at made the thought of this journey enjoyable for the first time.
Having Maria aboard could keep Caroline Maule at bay, John thought, and mulled over for a moment the way to accomplish it.
Maria knew she had to break the silence. But while her mind struggled to find the words, her eyes focused on the Highlander’s hands. So different from what she remembered of her husband’s soft and delicate hands, John Macpherson’s were large and strong. She looked at the soft wisps of dark hair on the back of them, the skin weathered and dark from the sun.
“I’ve never known anyone so content just sitting and studying hands,” John broke in with a low rumbling laugh. He held them to the light, trying to study them himself. “Aye, quite handsome paws, they are, I should say. With such a talent for healing. To think that these are the very same hands which I have to thank for bringing you here to my cabin.”
Maria looked up quickly, shaking her head.
“Nay, Sir John. You have it all wrong. The reason for my visit...” The young woman blurted, her eyes fixed upon his face. The openness of his gaze on her, his full mouth breaking into a wide, warm smile made her breath catch in her throat. Once again, she sat dumbstruck, lost in the deep, sea blue of his eyes. Vaguely, she took in the rest of his face–the skin around his eyes wrinkled and tan from his broad smile and from the kiss of the sun.
John lowered his hands to his lap. Her eyes right now brought to mind the young hawks his older brother, Alec, still enjoyed training. That is, when his wife, Fiona, wasn’t setting them free. Maria, right now, looked like she was ready to take flight. When he spoke again, his voice was low and gentle.
“I was only jesting, lass. You certainly need have no fear–nor any particular reason, for that matter–in coming here.” He looked into her eyes for only a moment, and then turned his gaze away, nudging one of the cups gently toward her across the table. “It’s not whisky, only barley water.”
Maria reached over and took the cup in her two hands to drink. She wasn’t thirsty. But she was in desperate need of something to shield herself from his charms, and from the feelings that were beginning to emerge within her. Feelings that had hardly flickered with life in her marriage. Feelings she had begun to think she might never again experience.
Feelings she did not want to experience now.
“Is your companion feeling better?” he asked in an effort to make small talk. He watched as she placed the drink back on the table.
“She is...well, no, she is not...” Embarrassed, Maria paused, staring at the cup. Concentrate, she chided
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