Page 74 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

He leaned toward her, but footsteps echoed on the gravel beyond the hedge. Donaldina and Roy quickly separated with such apparent guilt that an observer might have believed they had done something much worse than just almost kissing.

Two servants passed along the adjoining path, carrying a lantern between them. Their voices faded toward the kitchens without either appearing to notice the pair concealed beyond the hedge.

Donaldina stared at the wet stones.

Roy cleared his throat. “The path is slippery.”

“Aye.”

It was a silly observation. She was grateful for it.

“I should return inside,” she said.

“Aye.”

However, neither moved. At last, Donaldina gathered what remained of her dignity and walked toward the castle. She reached the arch when Roy called softly behind her.

“Donaldina.”

She turned. There was restraint in his face once more, but it no longer concealed everything.

“Meet me in the apiary garden tomorrow,” he urged. “After the morning meal.”

Donaldina’s heart performed a movement for which she possessed no sensible name.

“I will.”

The morning arrived clear and cold. Sunlight lay pale upon the apiary garden, catching upon the rosemary leaves and turning every drop of rain into glass. The hives stood along the sheltered wall, their weathered wood silver-gray beneath the autumn sky. Beside them stood a new hive.

Donaldina stopped inside the gate. It had been built from thick pine, with fitted joints, a sloping roof and a raised base to protect it from the wet earth. The fresh timber glowed warmly among the older hives. Someone had carved a small thistle into the front board, not perfectly, but with enough care that its uneven petals seemed more precious than ornament made by a master.

Roy was standing beside it. Donaldina crossed the garden slowly and laid her palm against the smooth wood. It smelled of pine resin and new shavings. Beneath the other lids, the bees hummed in their winter-slow fashion, filling the silence with a gentle living sound.

“Ye did this,” she whispered.

“I didnae build it,” he corrected her.

“But ye ordered it.”

Roy looked at the hive as though it were a matter of military supply. “The old one was broken in the storm.”

“I had meant tae repair it,” she retorted.

“The boards were split.”

“I might still have repaired it.”

“Aye,” he conceded. “Poorly.”

Donaldina looked at him. His mouth twitched. She ran her fingers over the carved thistle.

“Why?”

“It deserved replacing.”

“The hive?”

His gaze settled upon her. “Anything precious that survives a storm deserves care afterward.”