Adam's Call (The Victorian Highlanders Book 3)

by Ellie St. Clair

  She turned as Adam appeared through the door, asking her if she was ready. “I am,” she said, and with one final look behind her, she walked through the doorway to where two horses were waiting. He held his hands out to provide her a step up onto the beautiful gray, before mounting his own horse beside her.

  “We’d best get a move on,” he said. “’Tis a cloudy day, and I shouldn’t like to be caught in any rain.”

  “But do you think perhaps…”

  “Aye?”

  “Could you take me down to the lake, for just a moment before we leave? I have seen it through my — your — bedroom window for days now, and I have so badly wanted to view it up close. Would you mind?”

  She looked up at him, hope fluttering in her chest, though why she felt so strongly about this particular visit, she had no idea. Did it really matter if she saw this lake? But it seemed as if something was calling her there, and she so wanted to have the opportunity to see it.

  “I suppose for just a moment,” he said after considering it, and she felt the smile break out on her face.

  “Wonderful,” she said, and followed in behind him as he led her down a well-worn path in the grasses, which wound round a hill before meandering down to the water below. They came to a stop near the rocky shoreline, and Rachel let Adam lift her off the horse.

  Despite the gloominess of the day, the view was breathtaking. The water was a deep blue, its mirror-like surface reflecting the clouds above it and stretching out wider than she could see, across to the grassy knolls that reached up to the sky on the other side. There was green everywhere she looked, belying the rocky crags that one had to carefully traverse to get to the lake. Her heart soared out along the water, and before she could think of what she was doing, she was unlacing her boots, slipping her stockings off, and making her way to the shoreline with her cane.

  “What are you—? Rachel, we dinna have the time for a swim,” Adam said to her, before she heard him sigh as he walked toward her.

  “I’m not swimming!” she called back to him from where she had finally made it to the water’s edge. “For I do not know how!”

  She heard him curse as he began to make his way out toward her. Wearing only his kilt, he had no clothes to shed and quickly unlaced his ghillies and set them to the side.

  “It’s no’ very shallow!” he yelled out to her. “Do not fall in!”

  “I won’t!” she replied, smiling at his concern. “I actually have very good balance!”

  She had pity on him, however, and waited for him where she stood before gingerly putting her toes into the water. It was cold, and despite the warm summer air, she shivered as the waves lapped at her ankles. She had never felt such a sensation before, having spent most of her life within the city of London.

  “Is it always like this?” she asked breathily, as she felt Adam’s strong, solid presence beside her.

  “Like what?”

  “So beautiful. So peaceful. So… free.”

  He gave her a strange look but shrugged his shoulders and looked out beyond him. “I suppose so. You become somewhat used to it when you have seen it nearly every day of yer life. Although when I’ve been to the city — whether it be Edinburgh or even Inverness — I always yearn to return home to this. It’s in my blood. It’s part of me.”

  She looked over at him. It was the most poetic thing she had ever heard him say, and it spoke to something within her — to a piece of her that had never known a home where she felt she truly belonged.

  “Have you not somewhere you feel the same?” he asked as if reading her thoughts, his gaze turning from the lake beyond them to her face. She was taken aback somewhat by the intensity of his dark eyes and the strong features of his face that were always so serious, so deep in thought.

  “No,” she said, turning away from him to stare back out at the water. “I have no place, really. I have the house I grew up in, I suppose, but it is not home. It is simply a place where I eat and sleep, where I live. I could leave it forever and never miss it.”

  His head dropped before he followed her stare toward a seagull that swooped down in front of them.

  “That’s rather sad,” he said.

  “I suppose it is,” she responded, smiling wistfully. “For they say home is with those you love, and there truly isn’t anyone that holds my heart. I respect my father to a point, but I’m not sure… well. We have never had that close of a relationship. And there has definitely never been a man.”

  “And what of your mother?” he asked her cautiously, as if he realized it may be a subject he should not speak of. “Do you still have her?”

  “I do not,” said Rachel, swallowing the lump that grew in her throat. She seldom thought of her mother, choosing not to. She certainly never spoke of her, but when she looked into Adam’s dark blues eyes, she felt as though she could trust him. “Shortly after I was born, she left me with my father. They were not married, and of course, my birth meant she was ruined. She was not gentry, but her family was respected. When she gave me to my father, she told him she never wanted anything to do with either of us ever again. My father is a blowhard, a man out for himself at all times. But, at the very least, he has provided for me over the years. He’s given me a roof over my head, food on my table. He has not given me much love, and as much as I do not understand why he believes Vincent would be a good match for me, or for the company, he is trying to ensure I am provided for in the years to come. So while he is a hard man to love, I am grateful for all he has done for me.”

  It was more information than she had told most, and, in fact, she had hardly thought of her father that way even to herself.

  “I’m sorry,” came Adam’s soft response, “about your mother.”

  “It’s fine,” said Rachel. “I’ve never known any different.”

  She cleared her throat, no longer wanting to speak on the subject.

  “You said the lake is deep. Are there a few feet of shallow water? Can I wade in?”

  “A few,” he said, his brows furrowing above concerned eyes. “Here, take hold of my arm in case the ground falls away. I know these waters fairly well, but there are still mysteries that lurk beneath the surface.”

  “Mysteries? Like what?”

  “Well, now, lass, dinna tell me you haven’t heard of the monster that lives in these waters?”

  He took hold of her elbow then, and she felt fire shoot up her arm from where his fingers lightly held her. She tried to deny how affected she was by his solid presence next to her, but she knew she was only lying to herself.

  “Monster?” she asked, trying to concentrate on his words.

  “Aye,” he said, mischief lighting his eyes and turning up the corners of his mouth. “We call her Nessie. She’s lived in these waters for years now, longer than any of us have been alive, that’s for certain. Now and then, when one is out swimming, ye may feel something brush by your foot with no explanation. That’s Nessie. She knows us and is just being friendly. Strangers though… she doesna like those who do not belong.”

  “Like the English?” she said, trying not to laugh at his outlandish story as she turned to face him.

  “Aye, like the English,” he said, smiling now in earnest. Their bare feet were planted next to one another in the water, his face so close to hers. Close enough to touch… and she did, reaching out a hand to brush a lock of hair off his forehead and back behind his ear. As she did so, their eyes met, and she knew the monster of the lake could have reared up right next to her and she would not have been able to turn away.

  The laughter in his face died, his eyes hardening so dark they were nearly black. She swallowed but didn’t move, and when he lowered his head to hers, she could do nothing but meet him halfway.

  His lips were as warm as the wind that swept over the lake toward them, the arms that came around her as strong and as sure as the hills that looked over them from across the water. Never before had she felt such emotion as she did when their lips met, giving and ta
king all that they had to offer one another.

  His hands roamed her back, one settling into her hair, which had been pinned in a loose knot at the back of her head. He pulled out a couple of pins, sending it rolling onto her shoulders. She gasped, so in awe of him and the strength she felt in his upper arms, where she rested her hands without thinking. The muscles bunched underneath her fingers, and she forgot everything but the feel of him and his mouth on hers.

  His tongue teased her lips, and she opened to him, gasping when the smooth velvet of him began a love play she was completely unfamiliar with yet responded to without thinking. He was more man than she had ever seen before, and she never wanted it to stop.

  But as a bird called, breaking the silence that had filled the still air around them, he moved his hands to her elbows, and stepped away from her, leaving her feeling utterly and completely bereft.

  14

  Adam breathed hard as he tried to take control of himself. What had come over him to kiss this Englishwoman so?

  Perhaps it was the setting. While he had seen the scene before him thousands of times, he had never done so through her eyes. The way she had explained it sounded like lyrics to a song, and he had never taken the time to fully appreciate the beauty that the land just the other side of his front door held.

  Or perhaps it was her. He looked at her now, her long auburn hair cascading down her back after he had released her, the red of it shining in the sun. Her blue eyes reminded him of the water below, and they were dreamy now as she looked up at him. Her lips were rosy from his kisses. Aye, she looked like she had been completely and thoroughly ravished.

  Adam knew two things. The first was that he should never, ever have kissed her. The second was that he wanted to again.

  He cleared his throat and looked away, over her shoulder at the sky behind her.

  “We’ve tarried here far too long,” he said, somewhat gruffly. “We must get a move on.”

  She nodded, saying nothing, and as he noted the innocence about her, the way she looked at him made him feel like an ass. Clearly, the kiss had meant something to her. Perhaps it was due to the serious conversation they’d carried out prior, or perhaps it was the effect of the loch. Whatever it was, she had to understand that this would be the last of it, that there would be nothing further between the two of them.

  “Will your fiancé be missin’ ye?” he asked, knowing it would anger her, as he set into a bit of melancholy himself.

  “I do not have a fiancé,” she said, throwing up her hands in frustration as she turned to walk back to their horses. Good. He had raised her ire. Perhaps now she would forget any other emotion toward him.

  “That’s right,” he said. “I remember. But what else will you do, if you do not marry the man? Will your father support you forever?”

  “No,” she said, and he regretted his question when he saw the look of panic cross her eyes. “I suppose I shall find someone to marry eventually. And if not, then I will work.”

  “Work?” he asked her. “What would you do?”

  “I’m not sure, really,” she replied.

  As she took his arm to regain her balance, he belatedly remembered the wound in her leg. He hoped she hadn’t hurt it walking down to the water, but she seemed fine besides the lack of balance over the craggy rocks.

  “But I like to stay busy. I enjoy learning new tasks, and if my father will not allow me to work or do business in his company then I will have to go elsewhere. Perhaps to another company like my father’s, if he truly refuses to allow me to work for him. Or perhaps I shall work as a secretary. I have the skills and am very organized.”

  “I dinna doubt it,” he said. “Though I canna see you taking orders particularly well.”

  She seemed to ignore him as she mounted her horse, refusing his help.

  “Lead the way, kind sir,” she said mockingly, and he found the path once more, staying silent as he led them up and out of the valley, on toward Darfield.

  They barely spoke for the first part of the ride. It wasn’t extremely far to Darfield, but he went at a much slower pace than he typically would have ridden it himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her skills on a horse, but more so that he didn’t want the stitches in her leg to open up if there was too much jarring. His mother had given him fairly precise instructions.

  They had just crossed over onto MacTavish land — though, really, it was all now one and the same since Finlay and Kyla had married and the agreement between the clans had been forged — when the first raindrop fell. Adam felt it on his bare shoulder, as he also noted the heat had dissipated from the wind. It was not cold, per se, but nor was the day warm any longer. Perhaps the unusually warm weather was finally breaking.

  He looked back. Rachel wore only her light summer gown, and he cursed himself for not having more foresight on her dress in case the weather should turn inclement. In the Scottish Highlands, no weather was guaranteed, no matter the time of year.

  He looked up at the sky, which had grown darker by the minute, and he prayed the rain would hold off until they arrived.

  “How does your leg fare?” he called back to her. “Can we pick up the pace some?”

  “I’m fine,” she said back to him, over the wind that had begun to pick up. “Do not worry about me. I shall stay right behind you!”

  Of course he would worry about her. The woman looked liable to be blown away by a breeze, let alone this stiff wind. He urged his horse into a fast canter and looked back to ensure she was following, as she said she would.

  She was a determined one, that was for sure. As fast as they rode, however, it seemed they were only going deeper into the eye of the gathering storm, and before long the rain was coming down in droves, drenching both of them. Adam knew they were not far from Darfield, but when a crack of lightning rent the sky, he realized it was more imperative that they find shelter — and quickly.

  He looked around him, taking stock of where they were. They had neared the hunting lands, and he knew there were makeshift shelters in case of such events. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, picturing their location.

  “There’s a hunting cottage nearby!” he yelled back at her. “We’ll stop there until the storm clears. Follow me!”

  He knew the storm might be over in moments, but one could never be sure. He crashed through the brush of the woodland as he left the path, taking her through the trees, where the effects of the storm had lessened, but where they were more at risk of being hit by a falling tree.

  He was relieved when the small shack popped into view, and he helped her down before tying the horses to a branch under the overhang of the shelter. Adam grabbed his saddlebag and ushered her inside, closing the door behind them. The silence was instant, taking the place of the howling wind that had assaulted their ears, until Adam could begin to hear the pelting of rain upon the roof.

  He looked over at her, and as he did so, he quickly averted his gaze and tried not to stare. The rain had melded the entire thin gown to her skin, and he could see every curve of her body. No longer did he think of her as having a childish build, for he was now very aware that she was all woman.

  He took in their surroundings. There was a small wood stove, a couple of chairs, and a cot. The shack was here for moments such as this — when inclement weather arose and kept hunters waylaid for usually a few hours, at most. He dumped the contents of his saddlebag on the bed, taking his extra plaid and passing it to Rachel.

  “Here,” he said gruffly. “This should help you stay warm.”

  She nodded her acceptance and wrapped the garment around herself as he set to starting a fire in the wood stove.

  “I can show you how to tie that if ye’d prefer to wear it while you dry your dress,” he said, realizing she’d get a chill in her cold garments despite the summer weather. She looked on as he instructed her on how to tie the wrap, and she nodded her understanding.

  “I’ll wait outside while ye change,” he said and made for the door.r />
  “No,” she stopped him. “No need to go out there again. If you turn your back, that will be fine. But first — could you untie me?”

  She turned around and he swallowed as he walked toward her, taking in the laces that were keeping her sodden dress together. His fingers, so agile with his fine tools, deftly untied the knotted, wet lace before he loosened it enough that she would be able to slip out of it on her own. He tried not to think of her body under the gown, which would be revealed as she slid out of it.

  “Should be fine now,” he said, then walked away with his back to her, torn between needing to get as far from her as possible to keep from acting on any foolish impulses — again — and from not wanting to return to the rain.

  He tried to focus on something — anything — else.

  “You can turn now,” she said after what seemed like ages. “I’ve tied it properly — I think.”

  He did turn then, and was shocked by the sight in front of him. He was taken aback at the feeling of possessiveness that overcame him when he saw her standing there in his clan colors. She had draped the plaid over her shoulder as he had instructed, tying it out front. It was huge on her, of course, and her elfin body was dwarfed by the massive folds of fabric. And yet she looked… warm and comfortable, soft and inviting.

  “Very good,” he said gruffly, trying not to watch her too closely as she crossed the floor and laid her dress in front of the stove to dry. “Would you like an oatcake?” he asked her, holding one out.

  “An oatcake?” she asked, her eyes widening.

  “Aye,” he said. “Please dinna tell me ye’ve never before had an oatcake.”

  “All right,” she said, smiling. “I will not tell you that.”

  “Good heavens,” he responded. “I grew up on these things. We’d never sit still at the table, so when my father sent us to bed without finishing supper, my mother would stuff these in our pockets to eat later on. Here, try one. Trust me, they’re not as bad as they look.”