Mary. He should have guessed. A common, unremarkable name that would draw no attention—just like the rest of her. He was only a few feet away, but she hadn’t seen him yet. “I think the sun—”
She stopped suddenly. Her eyes widening and mouth caught in an O of surprise as she saw him. On such a severe countenance, it shouldn’t have been so adorable. He found himself smiling.
In the sunlight, without the lens hiding half her face, he got his first really good look at her. Her hair was still hidden beneath an ugly black veil and wimple, her gown was still boxy and shapeless, her skin was still pale, her features were still too sharp—especially her cheekbones which stuck out prominently over sunken cheeks—and there was still an overall gray, ghostlike quality to her, but on closer scrutiny he knew his instincts had been right. The hint of prettiness and intentional obscuring of beauty was even more obvious in the stark light of day.
There was no hiding her eyes, and they were spectacular. Round and overlarge in her hollow-cheeked face, they were a remarkable greenish blue, and framed by thick, long lashes that seemed incongruously soft on such an otherwise brittle exterior. Her mouth, too, was soft and full, with a sensual dip that made him think of a bow on a package he wanted to unwrap.
As soon as their eyes met, she instinctively dropped her gaze, as if hiding her eyes from his view.
Hiding. That’s exactly what she was doing. The question was why and from what.
“Lady Mary, Lady Margaret,” he said, approaching the two women with a bow.
Lady Margaret turned on him with a gasp. She gaped at him, and then at Mary. “You’ve met?”
He grinned, seeing the blush rise to Mary’s cheeks.
“Briefly,” she said tightly. The lass really needed to relax. She was pulled as tight as a bowstring.
“Not too briefly,” he corrected, unable to stop himself from teasing her. He liked seeing the color in her cheeks. “I’m looking forward to furthering our acquaintance. I hope you are not bored with the Games already? Perhaps they are not exciting enough for you?”
He knew he was being horrible, but he couldn’t help teasing her.
She wasn’t shy, though. Her eyes flashed at him in outrage.
“Oh, it was exciting, wasn’t it, Mary?” Lady Margaret interposed.
He thought she nodded, but her jaw was clenched so tight it was hard to tell. “I’m sure Sir Kenneth has heard enough accolades for the day, Margaret. He doesn’t need to hear them from us.”
She gave him a smile that made him frown. She had a way of making it sound unflattering. He was used to reading a certain amount of feminine admiration in a woman’s gaze, but with her there was only cool challenge. He didn’t think he liked it.
“There is still the sword dance to be held this afternoon. If Lady Margaret doesn’t object, I would be happy to escort you.”
Lady Margaret looked at him in surprise. “Why would I object?”
“No!” Lady Mary said over her. Her blush deepened as she realized she’d spoken too harshly. “I mean, I regret that I must return to the castle. I’m feeling unwell.”
Lady Margaret became immediately concerned. She put her hand on Mary’s arm. “Is that why you rushed off?” She laid the back of her hand across her forehead. “You do look flushed.”
Mary nodded, not looking in his direction. Probably to avoid his quirked brow. “I think the sun was too much for me.”
Lady Margaret turned to him. “Mary has just recovered from an illness. This was the first time she’s had a chance to see the Games all week.”
“Is that so?” he drawled.
She couldn’t avoid looking at him any longer. He could see a flash of anger in her blue-green eyes that reminded him of sun glinting on the sea. He hadn’t expected so much spirit from such a quiet exterior, and his intrigue grew.
“Aye, I’ve been very unwell.” He swore he could see her chin stiffen, challenging him to disagree with her.
“My sister is a healer. If you like, I could send her to you.”
Her mouth tightened, hearing his challenge. “That is very kind of you, but I’m sure that will not be necessary. I think I just need to lie down.”
“Lying down sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Though there was nothing suggestive in his voice, he knew she’d understood when he heard her sharp intake of breath.
She was outraged, as no doubt she should be. But he could also see by the delicate flutter of her pulse below a surprisingly velvety-soft–looking cheek that she was more intrigued than she wanted to let on.
The Saint: A Highland Guard Novel Page 40
