Page 34 of Kidnapping Cordelia

“You surprise me, sir, for I would think it is difficult to notice someone who is not in your company.”

Delia felt her heart pounding, wondering if she ought to have said that, but she refused to act the shrinking violet. He’d said himself he needed clouting over the head, so she would spell it out to him in no uncertain terms. She was not so foolish she did not know when someone was avoiding her. But Delia had spent the past days in a state of agitated anticipation, wondering when she would see him again, and if he would kiss her. When he had so obviously stayed away, it had made her feel foolish and vulnerable and more than a little cross.

To her surprise, he did not immediately try to defend himself, nor make excuses. Instead, his voice lowered to something dark and intimate that made everything feminine in her quiver with anticipation.

“Ah, well, that’s where yer wrong, lassie. For even when ye were nae by me, I noticed ye. I have nae been able to keep that kiss from my mind.”

“Then why didn’t you come?” she demanded, wishing the question had not sounded so needy and plaintive. “I… I felt foolish, for your brother and Luella plainly expected you to come, despite you being busy. I wish you would be honest, for if you do not want me here—”

Before she could finish the sentence, he had moved, getting to his feet and closing the distance between them. Delia gasped as he knelt beside her chair and reached for her hand.

“Forgive me, Delia. I have behaved badly, and yer right to scold me. I promise ye I meant nae insult. I just…” He sighed and ran his free hand through his hair, making it into an untidy tangle. Delia longed to smooth it back down again but did not quite dare. “Ye remember I told ye I was a naughty wee laddie when I was a bairn?”

“Yes,” Delia said, smiling at his words. “I remember.”

“Aye, well. If anyone told me I must do something, I did the complete opposite. I dinnae ken why. Often as not, I quite wanted to do what they had asked me, but there is a wee devil in me that sometimes makes me act the fool. I thought I had it in order these days, but—”

“But the idea that you must marry me is making you fight the idea,” she guessed.

“Aye. That’s it in a nutshell,” he said, watching her face. “Do ye understand? ’Tis nae because I dinnae like ye, I just… I can’t abide it when my hand is forced.”

“I did not force you to offer for me,” Delia reminded him gently.

“I ken that very well,” he said quietly. “’Twas my own idea, and I’m thinking it wisnae a bad one. All the same—”

Delia nodded, contemplating him as an idea occurred to her. “In that case, I release you from your offer, Mr Anderson.”

“What?” he said, sounding shocked. “Lassie, I dinnae mean to say I would nae marry ye. I just—”

“I understand that very well,” she replied, hoping this was the right tack to take. “And I am grateful to you. But it seems to me we are going about this all wrong. You are an honourable man, but I do not wish to marry someone who does not want me. So, I will release you from your offer. We shall not marry. But I shall stay on here at Wildsyde for a little longer, for I do love it here. If, in that time, I find someone I wish to marry, and who wishes to marry me, then all to the good. If I do not, I shall return home, and there will be no hard feelings on either side.”

Muir stared at her, his expression troubled.

“Don’t look so vexed,” she said soothingly. “We shall go on as before, and see what happens, but now we can just be friends and get to know each other, with no pressure or expectations on either side.”

“I am nae vexed,” he said, though he sounded it to her ear. “I’m just a—”

“What?” she asked when he failed to finish the sentence.

“Ach, I’m disappointed,” he said irritably. “I have been thinking of kissing ye all night and I cannae do so if we are just friends.”

Despite herself, Delia laughed at his predicament. “You are a spoilt boy who wants what he can’t have,” she told him sternly.

“Aye, I ken that well enough,” he grumbled, releasing her hand and slumping against the chair she sat on.

With her heart beating in her throat, Delia reached out and smoothed the tangle he’d made of his hair, running her fingers through what felt like warm silk. He sighed, tilting his head to allow her to continue.

“That’s nice,” he said, and Delia smiled, feeling as though she was petting a friendly lion.

He was so big, not only in size but his presence seemed to eat up the space in the room, dominating it and her every thought whenever he was near. How frustrating that the more she saw of him, the more she wished to make a life with him, and the farther away he seemed to get. Unless, perhaps, she did something about that. Unless there was a way to draw him closer again.

“You could still kiss me, if I allowed it,” she said, certain that her heart had leapt from her chest to her throat, for it seemed to be beating there now.

He was still for a moment, and then he moved, shifting back to his knees, his gaze intent. Delia swallowed. He still seemed like a lion in the amber glow of the firelight that highlighted the gold and russet glints in his hair, gilding his skin, but now he seemed less friendly and more likely to eat her in one bite.

“I could?” he said, and she appreciated the question she heard there, even though the glint in his eyes made her pulse speed faster still.

She nodded, as an audible reply seemed to be beyond her, breathing was enough of a challenge just now. Heat swept over her skin, that odd tickling feeling in her belly morphing into something stronger, like wings beating as her blood raced through her veins.