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Authors: Candace Camp

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BOOK: Enraptured
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As Coll rowed across the loch, Violet luxuriated in the freedom of watching him without fearing she would reveal what she felt for him. He took off his jacket to wield the oars, and Violet studied the flex of his muscles beneath his shirt as he rowed. She wished that it were warm enough that he had rolled up his sleeves.

“If you dinna stop looking at me like that, lass, I'll forget what I'm about and we'll both wind up in the loch,” Coll growled.

Violet laughed. “I wouldn't want that.” She leaned forward in a confiding manner. “But I do want you.”

The rhythm of the oars stuttered and stopped. He rested on them, regarding her. “Do you just say anything that comes into your head?”

“No. I've thought a great deal more than I have said.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Would you like to hear what else has been on my mind? I could tell you about the way the sun glints on your hair.”

“Och, now, Violet . . .” Coll started rowing again.

Delighted by Coll's boyish look of embarrassment, Violet continued, “Or I could tell you I was contemplating how long your fingers are and how strong on that oar, but how gentle they feel on my skin.” The oars bit through the water with increasing swiftness. “Then there's the length of your legs and how I'm tempted to slide right up them—”

“Enough!” He flashed her a searing glance. “You'll be the death of me.”

“I wouldn't want that. I'll be good.” Violet propped her elbow on her knee and her chin on her hand and simply watched him, savoring the rise and fall of his chest, the blazing blueness of his eyes.

When they reached the dock, Coll jumped out and tied the boat, not saying a thing, then reached down to lift Violet out. He set her down on the dock with a thump, and his fingers dug into her waist, jerking her forward as he bent to kiss her. His mouth was hard and hungry, and his hands slid down to her hips, pushing her pelvis into him. Violet wriggled. He groaned deep in his throat and tore his mouth from hers. He dug his fingers into her hips and rested his forehead on hers.

“God, but you tempt me. I'd like to pull you down right here on the docks, and the devil with who might see us.”

“I might like that.”

“I think you would.” His mouth returned to hers just as the merry sound of a whistled tune came through the air. Coll's head jerked up, and he bit out a short, sharp oath. “Angus McKay. I might have known.”

Coll released Violet and took a step back, watching the old man stroll down the path toward them. A fishing pole
rested on his shoulder, and his gaze was fixed on the path in front of him. He raised his head, and his steps checked.

“Weel, Coll, not working today, eh?” Angus said in greeting and continued to the dock. “You grow more like your faither every day.”

A dull flush rose in Coll's face, and he started to retort, but Violet spoke before he could. “Mr. Munro has agreed to help me today, Angus.”

“Has he noo? You are not mucking about by the sea this afternoon?”

“No. I have a mind to see the ruins of the castle.”

“Ah, so that's what you're doing then?” He snorted. “Looking at the castle?”

Coll sent him a sharp glance, but Violet merely smiled. “Yes. You, I see, have come to fish in the loch?”

“I hae a standing invite frae himself.”

Coll grunted. “Jack is generous with his friendship.”

“Aye. He's not one to begrudge a puir auld man a fish noo and again.”

“No doubt that stretches to cover rabbits, too.”

Angus's eyes danced. “Mayhap it does.”

Coll grimaced and reached down to the dory to retrieve the bag containing lunch. Slinging the sack over his shoulder, he wrapped his hand around Violet's arm and started up the path, his face grim. Violet gave McKay a parting wave over her shoulder.

“Meddling old fool,” Coll muttered.

“Coll . . . I'm not your prisoner.”

“What?”

Violet looked down pointedly at his grip on her arm. “You're hauling me off as if you think I'm about to bolt.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He dropped her arm, and sticking his hands in his pockets, he strode on. “I think he saw us.”

“Yes, of course, he saw us.”

“Before, I mean.”

“When we were kissing?”

“Yes.” Coll shot her a flashing glance. “And it wasna only a kiss. I had my hands all over you.”

“I remember.”

“Well, I think Old Angus saw it. He just pretended to glance up and act surprised to see us there.”

“Then he was unexpectedly tactful.”

Coll snorted. “Oh, he let me know. That's what his barb was about—that I'm like my father.”

“I thought he was teasing you about not working today.”

“That as well. Nothing makes him as happy as being able to slide in two knives at once.”

Violet chuckled. “He would not tease you if you were not such an easy target.”

“Trust you to take his side.” Coll gave her a fulminating look.

“Now, Coll . . .” She looped both arms around his arm, her tone that of one speaking to a cranky toddler. “You know that it's your side I favor.”

He gave her a sideways look, but he looped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her up against him. “Even though I'm a man steeped in sin?”

“No.” She slipped her arm beneath his jacket and around his waist, leaning into him and laying her other hand on his chest. “ 'Tis not your sins that make Angus love to poke at you. It's that you take them so to heart.” She moved her hand in a soothing circle over his chest.

Coll brought his other hand up to cover hers, his steps slowing. “It is wrong of me to do this with you.” His voice was low and he did not look at her. “But I canna stay away. I tried the other night not to come to your room, but I could not do it.”

“I'm glad. I want you to come to me.” She glanced up at him. “I cannot help but wonder why you want to stay away.”

“I don't
want
to! If I did only what I wanted, I fear I'd never leave your bed. But I am compromising you.”

“I don't mind.”

“You should. You should have more care for yourself.” He paused. “I should take more care of you.”

“I am able to take care of myself. There is no reason for you to do so. I'm aware of what I am doing; I accepted the consequences when I made the decision not to marry. I refuse to foreswear any pleasure in my life simply because I choose not to have a husband.” Violet pulled to a stop and turned to him, her eyes searching his face. “Coll . . . I am beginning to think that you regard me as a fallen woman. Is that true? Have I lowered myself in your eyes by coming to your bed?”

20

W
hat?” Coll's brows shot up,
the shock on his face gratifying. “No! How can you—I dinna say that.”

“No? You seem so concerned that others will think less of me that I can only wonder if
you
think less of me.”

“No. Never.” He took both her hands and brought them to his lips. “I think you are a woman of great honesty and worth. I am amazed . . . honored . . . that you have given yourself to me.” He paused. “It's me I think less of for taking what you have given.”


I
do not think less of you.” She copied him, bringing his hands up to press her lips to them, one by one. She could see the shudder run through him. “I do not find you lacking in any way, be it honor or intelligence or looks.” She grinned. “And if I am so worthy and honest, then you should value my opinion.”

A smile broke across his face, and he kissed her, hard and fast. “You have an argument for everything.”

“I do.” She stepped into him, her arms sliding up his back beneath his jacket, as she went on tiptoe to kiss him. “And this is my best argument.”

He surrendered himself to her kiss, his body curving around her, his mouth drinking her in. Violet felt the surge of heat through his body, the quickening of his breath, and she melted into him in response. Finally he tore his mouth from hers and stood, his head resting against hers, as he pulled himself back under control.

With a final hard kiss to her forehead, he took her hand and started up the path again. “Come. We are here to search the castle, remember?”

“I know.” She fell in beside him, smiling. “But I can do more than one thing at a time. Cannot you?”

“I am a very single-minded man.”

They took the path toward Baillannan, but long before they reached the looming gray house, Coll took another trail that twisted through the trees, emerging finally onto a well-worn walkway. At the end of the path was a barren rise of land, and atop it stood the stark remains of white stone walls, mostly tumbled down, sticking up here and there from the ground like the bleached bones of some great animal.

Violet sucked in a breath. “It's wonderful.” She moved forward eagerly.

“You've got that look in your eye.”

“What look?” She widened her eyes at him innocently.

“Like you're about to start digging.”

She laughed. “Oh, no, this is much too recent for me. Still, it's fascinating.” She strolled around the perimeter first, then moved in to study the pieces of walls remaining. “I don't see any markings, do you?”

“I wouldn't think there's much place on the surface for hiding a treasure.” He glanced around the flat, barren land. “It's too exposed. If my grandmother hid anything here, it would be in the cellars.”

He strode to the gaping hole at one end of the ruins, marked off with a wooden fence, and led her around the railing to the opposite end. “We've shored it up since Jack and Isobel found it. They tumbled off into the pit when the ground caved in on them.”

“Were they hurt?”

“It'd take more than that to kill that Englishman. Kensington's got the devil's own luck. And he fell first, so he was there to catch Isobel when she came looking to rescue him.”

“Life at Baillannan sounds . . . exciting.”

He chuckled. “Yes. Though it's been quite dull lately. Here's the ladder we built into the cellars. Better let me go down first to make sure it's still sturdy.” He swung over the edge.

“Hmph. You just want to watch me coming down the ladder.”

He grinned up at her. “I'll admit, I'll enjoy the view.”

Violet followed him, bunching up her skirts with one hand to keep from entangling her feet. Coll lit the lantern sitting beside the ladder, and they began their exploration. Light from above did not penetrate the far reaches of the cellars, making the lantern necessary as they moved away from the cave-in. Piles of rubble partially blocked some corridors. Arches of stone and brick still held up the vaulted stone ceilings, braced in several places by new wooden beams.

“When were these put in?” Violet patted one of the rough beams.

“Jack and I did it the past few months.”

“You did a lot of work here.”

“We wanted to make sure it was safe. So no one else would get caught in a collapse.” He cast her a sheepish smile. “And we wanted to look for tunnels.”

“Did you find any?”

“One or two, but they've both been blocked by a cave-in. Back here, the chambers are dug into the rock.” Coll led her past a pile of rubble. As they ambled along, hand in hand, he said, “If we found the treasure, what would you do with the money?”

“I'm not sure.” She glanced over at him, surprised. “I hadn't really thought past locating it. Would part of it be mine?”

“I don't know why not. Who else would it belong to? A French monarchy that no longer exists? A prince long ago defeated? It wasn't Malcolm Rose's money. It has naught to do with Mardoun. No, I think if you and I found it, it would be ours.”

“Well . . . I wouldn't have to depend on a patron to excavate. I could do as I want, go where I wish. And I'd want to do something for the education of women, which is currently absent. Not for women like me—”

“Are there any other women like you?” Coll grinned wickedly.

She sent him a quelling look. “I mean, women whose parents can afford to educate them. We at least are taught to read and write, and we can turn to books to educate ourselves. But education for the poor is woefully lacking, for both boys and girls. There are those who want to establish village schools, available to all. Perhaps I'd do that.”

“That seems a fine ambition.”

“What about you? What would you do with the money?”

“It would be grand not having to earn my keep. To be able to do just as I pleased, to spend my time making things, carving—it's a heady thought. I'd want to do something for the crofters, too, though. I've thought of creating a place where they could own their strips of land and not be turned out on the whim of another. I imagine I could get Mardoun and Kensington to donate a bit of their properties as well.”

BOOK: Enraptured
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