“I may do that.”
They found themselves removed from the stalls, in a quiet area off the road. Elspeth took her hand from his arm and allowed herself to stare up into his striking blue eyes.
“I hope you will,” she whispered.
He took her hand. “I did not expect to find you here, Miss Marshall. You are an impressive woman—smart and confident. Most women of your age are already married or nearly so.”
“My father would like me to be. I am too interested in books, however. The reading and writing of them.” She blushed. “Most men—of any age—find me…odd.”
“That is their misfortune,” Mr. Williams said softly. “I hope your father won’t press you into a union you don’t want.”
“He won’t.” Of that, Elspeth was certain. He wanted her to wed, but more than that, he wanted her to be happy. “He knows and accepts that I am content with my library. For now.”
For the first time, Elspeth glimpsed a shared future. With a strong man who found her interesting.
“I am glad to hear it, Miss Marshall. Perhaps when I come by again in the future, you will still be unmarried.”
What was he saying?
Before she could ask, he shook his head. “Forgive me. That was inappropriate. I shall hope our paths cross again. Until then, be very well, Miss Marshall.” He bent his head and brushed his lips across her cheek.
Lightness filled her, as if she might float away. She clasped his hand tightly so that he might anchor her to the earth.
Without thinking, she put her other hand on his neck and held his head down. She moved so she could put her lips to his.
Shocked by her action, she gasped as she pulled back. “My apologies. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t, actually.”
“Sometimes thought is overrated.” His eyes gleamed with heat. “Don’t apologize. I am not in the least offended.”
Elspeth relaxed slightly, even as a wonderful current of anticipation flowed through her. “I really must go.”
“You look as if you don’t want to.”
“I do not. Maybe just one more—” She cut herself off and wrinkled her nose. “You’ll think me a wanton.”
“One more kiss?” He leaned close as he steered her toward the side of a shop. Blocked by the stalls, they could not be seen from the square. “If you are a wanton, then I am a rogue.”
She smiled up at him. “Oh, I like rogues. Remember, I write down stories. And rogues usually make the best characters.”
“How lovely to hear.” He swept his mouth over hers, gently at first, then with more pressure, his lips molding against hers.
They were soft and wonderful, and the energy coursing through Elspeth intensified. She put her arms around his neck and stood on her toes as he clasped his arms around her.
His tongue licked along her lower lip. “Open your mouth,” he whispered.
She did and was simultaneously shocked and thrilled when his tongue stroked inside. Somehow, she knew to use her tongue too, and the kiss became something far more intimate…and passionate.
His hands moved over her back as she clutched at his neck. She never wanted this moment to end, and yet she knew it must.
And just like that, it was over. He released her and stepped back, his eyes a storm of desire. She knew it because she felt the same.
“You should go.” He sounded hoarse, as if the kiss had affected him physically.
“I hope I’ll see you soon.”
“I hope so too.”
Reluctantly, Elspeth turned and walked slowly toward the square. She pivoted before going to the street she would follow home. He stared after her, his gaze smoldering.
Elspeth felt the connection between them deep in her bones. She would count the days until his return.
Chapter One
December 15, 1746
Calvine, Scotland
The snow began to fall more heavily as the coach rumbled into the yard of Balthazar’s Inn, and the ground was already turning white. Some would say it was foolish to travel at this time of year, but Elspeth had no qualms about doing so. Her aunt, whom Elspeth had accompanied to Inverness to visit her daughter, Elspeth’s cousin, was less intrepid. Still, she’d been desperate to visit her new grandchild—a cherub-faced boy with bright blue eyes and a particularly loud wail.
The color of his eyes had reminded Elspeth of Roy Williams. Though it had been over two years since she’d met him at the Lammas Fair, she would never forget his eyes. Or his smile. Or his kiss.
Or the fact that he’d never returned to Dunkeld. Not on his return trip from Inverness and not since.
“Even if we hadn’t planned to stop here for the night, we would have to,” Aunt Leah said, looking out the window of the coach. In her late forties, Aunt Leah often seemed a decade younger, both in her appearance and vigor. “I do hope it stops snowing so we can continue tomorrow.”
Aunt Leah lived in Perth. After her husband had died a year and a half ago, she’d taken to visiting her closest relatives—Elspeth and her father—quite often. She’d also invited Elspeth to accompany her when she traveled, an opportunity for which Elspeth was most grateful as it had allowed her to collect new stories to write down. In Inverness, she’d gathered stories about the Battle of Culloden that had been fought—and lost—in April.
The coach drew to a halt, and a moment later, the footman opened the door and helped Aunt Leah to the ground. Next, he offered Elspeth assistance.
The inn, which Elspeth had traveled past several times as she’d journeyed between Dunkeld and Inverness, was three stories and constructed of thick stone. The structure was a few hundred years old and looked it, though some of the windows seemed new.
Aunt Leah preceded her into the common room as the footman followed with their bags and the coachman took care of their vehicle and horses. “Oh my.” Aunt Leah stopped short just inside. “This is rather…rustic.”
Straw covered the floors in patches and a group of dogs was sprawled near the massive hearth on the left side of the room. Many of the tables in the common room were occupied, including by a pair of English soldiers, their bright red coats making them impossible to miss. Even so, the atmosphere was boisterous and welcoming, but then Elspeth loved to hear people talk.
“I’ll go speak to the innkeeper,” Aunt Leah said as she perused the common room with her assessing blue gaze. “Do you want to sit down? I can tell you’re desperate to hear anything of interest.”
Elspeth smiled and ducked her chin. “You know me too well, Aunt. Thank you.” She went to find a table surrounded by people so that she could listen to all the conversations around her.
As she sat and removed her hat and gloves, she perused the common room. She faced the wall where the fireplace was located.
In the corner to the right of the hearth, his back to the wall, sat a solitary man with a hood drawn up over his head. Perhaps he was cold. Elspeth felt bad that he was alone. She was certain he had a story. Everyone had a story.
Continuing her survey along the back wall where there was a small counter, she saw Aunt Leah speaking with a man who must be the innkeeper. He sported a knit cap stretched atop his head and an impressively bushy beard. As he directed their footman upstairs, Aunt Leah came to join her at the table.