The Winter Sea

‘He took the black. The young groom took the other, on an errand for the earl. And I, as you can see, am left behind.’ He seemed to mock himself with that last statement, but Sophia had a sense that he was none too pleased about it. His features were more grim and unforgiving than she’d seen them, but they softened as he looked at her, and though he had not moved within the doorway, he still seemed a full step closer when he tipped his head and asked her, ‘Is this some strange and curious custom of the Western Shires, to talk to God and horses when the sun is barely up?’

She turned her face away, and kept her focus on the mare. ‘I could not sleep. I heard the horses.’

‘Aye, there was a fair bit of confusion when they left. I do confess I might have raised my own voice, once or twice. ’Twas likely me that woke ye.’ He was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘That mare seems fond of ye.’

Sophia smiled. ‘We have an understanding. She has thrown me once, though I admit the fault was mostly mine.’

‘I am surprised. She does appear too gentle to so use a rider, and I cannot think ye capable of handling her too roughly.’

‘No, I only fell because I could not hold her when she ran. She has a wildness that she keeps well hid behind this gentle face.’

‘Aye, so it is with many women.’ Moray did move, then. She heard the rustle of his boots upon the dampened straw, and when she dared to take a sideways glance his leather-covered chest was at her shoulder. He reached to stroke the mare’s arched neck. ‘It is as well for her I do not leave this morning, for however wild she thinks herself, she would not have a liking for the hard road through the highlands, and she’d like it even less to carry such a load as me.’

So that, Sophia thought, was why he had not gone. There was no mount for him. ‘Then you must wait, and leave when Rory brings the other gelding back?’

‘No, lass. I do not leave.’ He dropped his hand and turned to lean with both his elbows on the cross-rail of the stall so that a fold of his black cloak swung round to rest upon Sophia’s sleeve. ‘The others felt it best that I remain at Slains.’

She was relieved to know that reason had at least prevailed. The earl must have persuaded Moray that to stay here would decrease the chance he might be captured, and although he did appear to be ill-pleased with the decision, from what she had observed of Moray these past days she knew his honor would compel him to abide with that which might best serve the purpose of the exiled king.

Not sure if she was meant to know he had a price upon his head, she only said, ‘You’ll doubtless find it safer.’

‘Aye.’ He seemed to find amusement in the word. ‘Which minds me, ye’ve not told me yet whose safety ye were praying for.’

He was but teasing her, she thought. It mattered not at all to him who she’d been saying prayers for in the silence of the stable. But she could not school her voice to match his lightness, any more than she could keep her chin from lifting till her wide eyes met his quiet grey ones. And she saw he was not laughing. He was truly curious.

She could not tell a lie to him. But neither could she talk—her heart had risen to her throat, and beat so strongly there that speech was quite impossible.

Which was as well, for she could not have told him, ‘It was you.’ Not in this stable, with the warmth of his own cloak upon her arm, and his broad shoulders almost touching her, and his face but inches from her own. Time seemed suspended, and it felt to her that moment might have stretched until forever; but the mare, forgotten, nudged a softly questing nose between them, and Sophia found her wayward voice.

‘The countess will be wanting me,’ she said.

And taking one quick step back from the stall—so sharp a step that Hugo, drowsy in his bed of straw, came instantly alert—she turned and fled the stables, and the watchful mastiff, and the mare, and most of all, the man whose gaze she still could feel like warming fire upon her back.

CHAPTER 10

I KNEW THAT HE was watching me.

The rain was coming harder now. It beat upon the windshield with the force of fifty drummers, and the wipers could no longer clear it fast enough for us to have a good view of the road. Graham had tucked the car into a layby and idled the engine, and now he had turned in his seat and was watching my face while I looked out the window.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s not much of a tour, in this weather. The countryside all looks the same when it rains.’

‘That’s all right. You can’t control the weather.’

‘We could try to wait it out.’ But from his doubtful tone I knew that he felt fairly sure, as I did, that this rain had settled in to stay awhile, and he was not the sort of man to wait for long.

I had been looking forward to this morning more than I’d have wanted to admit. I’d been watching the clock till he’d come up half an hour ago and walked me down to where his beaten-up white Vauxhall waited parked beside the harbor wall, with Angus wagging happy in the back. But we had only gone a short way when the clouds that had been smothering the morning sun had opened. It was clear now that we’d have to end our driving tour before we’d even properly begun. I tried to hide my disappointment.

Graham must have seen it anyway, because he put the car in gear again and, turning up the wipers to their highest speed, eased back on to the narrow road. ‘I tell you what. I’ve friends who have a farm not very far from here. We’ll stop and visit them, all right? Put in a bit of time, till the rain eases.’