Wild Hearts by Virginia Henley

hands easily spanned her tiny waist, she realized all the discomfort of the little corset was worthwhile, even though it took her breath away. Actually, she was not absolutely sure it was the corset! She was vain enough to want him to find her attractive, and as his hands lingered at her waist, she knew beyond a doubt that her wish had been granted.
    They rode down the coast through the small towns that led to the English border. He watched her carefully as she rode with pride. To Tabby it seemed his eyes never left her, and she bloomed beneath his approving regard.
    Actually, his attention was divided, although he concealed this well. He suspected that they were being followed. In Burnmouth, the fourth town they -passed through, he noticed a man on horseback who had been in Coldingham, a few miles back. Although he was used to keeping his thoughts to himself, he spoke lightly to his companion. "You have a good seat," he told her as seriously as he could manage.
    She blushed as she realized it was another double entendre that was sprinkled throughout the speech of all the Cockburns.
    "We should enjoy today. There are so few days when we are bathed in sunshine like this. See how the North Sea actually looks calm now?"
    At last, just North of Berwick-on-Tweed, she saw what he wanted her to see. Called Brotherston's Hole, it was an arch cut into the sandstone by the pounding waves. It had a stack on top and was a most curious freak of nature. They were atop eighty-foot cliffs of red sandstone. The North Sea spurted up through blowholes, thirty feet into the air, sending a shower of spray all over them.
    As she laughed up at him, she had the sensation that they were the only two people in the world. Excitement ran along her veins, and she knew she wanted him to kiss her. It was wicked of her, but just for today she wanted to forget the kindly husband waiting in Edinburgh. She would dutifully go to him tomorrow and be a devoted wife, but today she wanted to play this dangerous game.
    In the dampness of the spray, her hair sprang into tiny tendrils, curling wildly about her face. He reached down to lift a tress and rub its silken texture between thumb and forefinger. He whispered, "In truth, I am your prisoner, held captive by your beauty."
    Her heart hammered wildly beneath her breasts as he lowered his head to hers. But at that moment the tail of his eye was caught by a movement behind an outcropping of rock some distance off. He was definitely being. followed! When he stopped short of claiming her lips, relief swept over her. His gaze shifted out to sea and he said, "'Tis lovely now, but the weather can change almost overnight. Shortly, the autumn gales will shoot this water ninety feet into the air."
    "I've never seen anything like it. To think for centuries the sea has been slowly pounding the cliffs to sand," she said, regaining some small measure of composure.
    "The sea can be all things to all men," he said slowly as the seeds of a plan began to form. "I have a ship. I would love to take you sailing. Would you come with me?" he challenged.
    She didn't take his words seriously; it was just part of the game they played today that the future was theirs. She mused, "My mother must have crossed from France. She must have been very brave."
    "And very beautiful," he said quietly, taking her fingers and brushing his lips over them. "There's a small inn I know you will enjoy if we ride inland from here. We can stay for lunch."
     
    She was glad for the chance to rest. He dismounted quickly and came toward her. As he lifted her, she put her hands on his shoulders and felt his muscles flex; and she blushed uncontrollably as he swung her with ease to the ground beside him.
    They had a delicious lunch of poached salmon. She enjoyed the blackberries and cream so much, Paris ordered her a second dish. The innkeeper kept referring to her as Mistress Shannon, which made her giggle for some reason. Paris urged her to try the homemade ale,