by Amy Sandas
But as her attention became once again ensnared by the blueprints and she felt that tingle of discovery coursing through her blood, she knew she couldn’t leave without at least one look.
A quick glance was all she’d need to satisfy the questions keeping her awake. Then she’d scurry back to her room. If she were quiet, Macrae would never know she’d been there.
Several large blueprints were spread across the desk. Allegra noted the aspects of the original structure that were still standing and followed the lines of the intended renovation with the lightest sweep of her fingertip. Some sections were no more than a rough sketch and lacked the meticulous hand of a skilled architect. Macrae’s attempts at filling the gaps?
It didn’t take long to see that the structure had once been a proud and solid edifice, likely a fortress at the start of its existence, then transformed through various add-ons and stylistic approaches as the residents of each era would have wished to incorporate the desirable aesthetics of their time.
The house would have been a living, breathing testimony to the history of Macrae’s ancestors through hundreds of years.
Allegra felt an insistent pressure in her chest at the loss of so much family history and legacy. The intention to rebuild the grand house in its prior image was a noble one. But it also held a thread of loss. Even though the structure would look the same, the stones and timbers would not have had the ages to soak up the whispers and laughter of the many generations who had lived there.
It could, however, stand strong and ready for the generations to come.
As she flipped through the stack of additional blueprints, moving through the various levels and wings of the restructured building, Allegra made note of the missing pieces. There were not many, mostly existing in some of the oldest areas of the home and in some of the transitional areas between a previously existing structure and the later expansions.
She could identify the challenges in these lost details, but a clever architect should be able to connect everything harmoniously.
Allegra shifted the last blueprint aside to find something different tucked in beneath the professional drawings.
It was a stack of raw sketches. All of them focused on the same subject. Each new drawing altered some aspect of the one that came before. It was a small structure, clearly set apart from the main house. The half-dozen drawings depicted Roman columns and archways, wide palatial steps, a balcony encircling a second level, and a domed roof with a small tower extending from the very top. The details were all essentially the same in each drawing, though they were continually arranged in different ways.
Allegra could see the difficulty the designer was having in getting everything to flow just right so it wouldn’t end up looking overdone and garish.
As she went through the pages again, sorting back and forth through the various attempts to get the fanciful, romantic elements to work together rather than clash with each other, something she hadn’t felt in a long time flowed up from her toes in a tingling rush.
Baird kept his eyelids low over his gaze as he watched her.
He felt a wee bit of guilt for his covert observation, but not much. If she knew he was awake, she’d be gone before he could find the words that might convince her to stay.
He watched as she perused the plans to which he’d dedicated the last two years of his life. He found himself fascinated by the way her gaze travelled intently over the blueprints and her fingertips occasionally traced the architect’s lines. The slight furrow of her brow went straight to his gut. The woman rarely revealed her thoughts or emotions in her expression unless it was frustration, but in those long moments as she studied the blueprints, he could so easily see the curiosity and consternation and reverence she was feeling.
Baird tensed when she started shifting through his own drawings for the memorial he wished to build for Aileen. At first her frown deepened, but as she continued to go back and forth through his failed attempts, something new ignited her features.
Inspiration.
He doubted she was even aware of her actions when she took a seat in the chair and reached for a pencil and fresh piece of paper. Her hand moved elegantly over the blank surface while her gaze continued to sweep from the blueprints to his drawings and back again before returning to her own design.
Baird figured he could watch her in such a state of artistic creation the rest of his life and be a contented man.
When she finished with a few final notations, she tipped her head and eyed the drawing with a critical eye. The bright glitter of inspiration slid from her eyes, replaced by a flicker of discontent. Setting the pencil aside, she splayed her hand on the sketch in a way that had Baird sucking a swift breath.
She was going to destroy it.
Luckily, his involuntary gasp had her freezing in place. She’d clearly forgotten he was there and was just reminded of that fact. She rose in a silent rush as her eyes darted toward the door. But her hand remained poised over her drawing, ready to crumple it into a ball.
Baird snorted loudly and flung a hand over his head, still feigning sleep.
The woman flew past him, leaving behind only a whiff of her scent.
And her sketch.
As soon as the library door closed behind her, Baird rolled to his feet and crossed the room to the desk. Elegant lines marked the creamy paper in confident strokes. The resulting creation had him sucking another shocked breath. This one spread through his core and out to his limbs like sunshine streaming through heavy grey clouds.
Warmth mingled with sadness. And hope swirled with loss.
How could she have known exactly what he’d been trying in vain to accomplish for so many months? Somehow, she’d seen the vision locked in his head and she’d brought it to life. It was perfect.
Chapter 10
Allegra was nearly to her bedroom when she heard someone swiftly approaching from behind. A startled glance over her shoulder revealed the sight of Baird Macrae bearing down on her. The purposeful length of his stride and the intent look on his face—evident even in the darkened hallway—had her turning to press her back defensively to the wall.
Her breath caught as he neared.
And then she saw the drawing—her drawing—held carefully between his strong fingers.
She had just enough time to lift her chin defiantly as he came to a halt in front of her. With no preamble, he lifted the drawing and stated in a rough voice, “Ye drew this.”
It wasn’t a question.
Allegra tensed. “Were you awake?”
Completely ignoring her question, he took a step closer to her. “Why did ye draw this?”
“You think I’d explain myself to you after you just spied on me?” Her voice was incredulous and tense. She’d been compelled to draw the design that had settled in her mind, but she had not intended for anyone to see it.
He blinked then tilted his head. “It’s more like I was observing ye spying on me.”
“I was not spying.”
The intensity in his features softened into one of his familiar grins. “Oh, aye, it’s common for a woman tae creep silently intae a closed room tae study documents that have nothing tae do with her.”
Allegra narrowed her gaze, but held her tongue.
Then he chuckled and pushed a hand back through his tousled hair. “I’m not upset that ye decided tae review my plans. I’m glad of it, really, considering it prompted this.” He lifted her drawing again. His voice dropped to a murmur of reverence. “It’s perfect.”
Her breath caught and something warm unfurled in her core.
His appreciation felt unbelievably personal and she suspected she knew why.
His various sketches had clearly been trying to incorporate some very specific aspects, as though they were an attempt at honoring something…or someone. His drawings suggested the need for a structure that could be open to the fresh highland air but protected from the frequent rain and drizzle. It needed alcoves for quiet reading and personal co
ntemplation and space for social gatherings. Essentially, an intimate sitting room set out of doors in a balanced blend of classical architecture with fanciful details and modern comforts.
“It’s as though ye knew her,” he added roughly, emotion thick in his words. “How did ye tae see it all so clearly? I’ve been trying…for months…”
Feeling how important it was to him, Allegra tipped her head back to meet his heavy gaze. “It was all there in your sketches. I simply put it together.”
He gave a slow shake of his head, then stopped himself. For a long moment, he stared deep into her eyes. She could sense so much going on inside him. Doubt. Hope. Confusion. Need.
She almost reached for him there in that darkened hallway, barely five steps from her bedroom door. The urge to step into him and wrap her arms around his great, strong body with the intention of offering comfort and support was more intense than ever.
She refrained. Just barely.
“I want tae take ye somewhere,” he declared gruffly. “Tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“My home. Not the lodge ye saw by the loch. My real home. I’d like ye see it.”
The gentle plea in his tone made her belly twist and the warmth inside her swirled dangerously close to her heart.
How could she say no?
The road to Macrae’s ancestral home twisted and turned around rocky outcroppings and swift-running trout streams. Allegra suspected they might have made the trip much faster on foot along the path overlooking the loch, but she didn’t say anything. There was something undeniably pleasurable in being snuggled up beside Macrae in an open-air sleigh.
Heavy fur rugs covered their legs. Allegra was bundled into woolen mittens and a plaid scarf while Macrae wore leather gloves to better handle the horse’s reins as he kept them at a steady, even pace through the gently falling snow.
Aside from an initial greeting in the courtyard and a murmur of thanks as Macrae assisted her into the vehicle and carefully tucked the rugs over her thighs and around her hips, Allegra hadn’t spoken.
Macrae hadn’t either.
It seemed they were both content to breathe in the wintry air, glance about at the passing scenery, while beneath the layers of fur, their thighs pressed intimately to each other due to the narrow seating space…and Macrae’s large form.
With anyone else, Allegra would have felt tense and crowded. Instead, she found herself wondering how much more comfortable they’d both be if he’d put his arm around her shoulders and pull her in to snuggle against his chest.
All she’d have to do is ask and she knew he’d do it without a moment of hesitation. Macrae was not one to be concerned with what was proper. Was that why she found him so appealing? That and his tousled locks, ready grin, large hands, and scalding kisses.
“I’m dying tae ken what put that secret little smile on yer lips, lassie, but I suspect ye’d never tell me, aye?”
Allegra tipped her head to glance aside at him and allowed her smile to widen. “I could tell you it is the freshness of the winter air or the sound of the sleigh gliding through the snow or the jingle of the horse’s harness.”
Green eyes narrowed. “But it wouldnae be the truth.”
Her gaze fell unheeded to his lips—fine arches and a sensual curve nestled within the soft swirls of a russet beard. “No. It wouldn’t be.”
He issued a rumbling growl that rolled through Allegra, spreading desire into the deepest corners of her being. “Ask me.”
To kiss her.
Oh, how she wanted to.
Allegra took a steadying breath and looked into his eyes. “I can’t.”
His brows fell over his gaze as he held her focus with his. “I willnae hurt ye. I’m nae lyin’ when I say I want ye forever.”
Though his declaration sent thrills through her, her voice was tense when she replied. “You barely know me.”
He lifted his chest and gave a firm nod. “I ken what I need tae.”
Allegra arched a brow in question, urging him to continue.
He turned his gaze forward again, but Allegra kept her attention on his rough-hewn profile—the sloped brow, deep-set eyes, strong, masculine nose, and broad jaw. She saw his throat move as he swallowed and nearly lost her breath when he rolled his bottom lip in against his tongue before replying.
He cleared his throat. “The last several years have been…difficult for me. I’ve dwelled overlong on questions that cannae be answered. I’ve allowed doubt and guilt tae fill my heart. But when I woke at that inn tae find a furious, passionate, gorgeous slip of a woman giving me commands and ordering me oot the window… It’s hard tae explain, but I felt something fall intae place inside me.” He slid her a smoldering glance that sparked with emotion. “I felt excitement and hope that life might have more tae offer me than regret.”
Allegra’s chest was tight and her heart beat heavily in her ears, but she forced herself to respond. “You cannot possibly base your desire to marry me on a single encounter.”
His brows lifted. “Why not?”
“Because…it isn’t…it doesn’t make sense. It is illogical. There is no way to know if we’d be compatible for a lifetime.”
He laughed at that—a full, throaty laughter that triggered a tingling response deep in her belly. The look he gave her was all male, sensual and knowing. His voice was rich and thick. “Ah, lassie, we’re compatible. I promise ye that.”
Frustration made her blunt. “There is more to marriage than sexual passion.”
“Withoot a doubt,” he agreed readily. “There’s also mutual respect, appreciation, friendship, and generosity. Also a shared commitment tae tackle any problems we face together.” He paused then and lowered his chin. “And trust.”
Allegra stiffened, but she did not refute him. Everything he said rang far too true. It was shockingly easy to imagine the two of them building a life on the qualities he mentioned.
But trust was not something she’d ever given freely, even before Lucas. And after…the word formed like a dry stone in her throat.
She’d already gambled on a man’s honor once and lost, but she hadn’t been broken. If anything, the experience had made her stronger.
If she took a chance on Macrae—if she believed what he said—and gave in to the feelings that expanded and deepened inside her every day, she feared she’d be risking more than she could recover from.
But would it be worth it?
She studied his face—so handsome and stalwart as he gazed at the path ahead—and watched as a smile gently widened his mouth but didn’t manage to lighten the flicker of sadness in his eyes. “Here we are,” he said softly.
The sloping, snow-covered mountains rose dramatically to the left while the stream they’d been traveling along suddenly opened to a wide and placid lake. Though snow covered its banks, the lake remained a dark, mysterious blue—calm and deep. And up ahead, poised on a rocky peninsula, was the partial structure of an ancient manor.
The stone was dark grey with age and blackened by the remnants of smoke, but the dusting of snow and the glitter of frost lent it a certain enchantment—as though it weren’t lost to the world, just gently sleeping.
As they drew nearer, she recognized different aspects of the structure from the blueprints and drawings she’d seen in the library. Mentally overlaying the plans for rebuilding atop the image before her, she could easily envision the dwelling in its full, formidable form—a stunning blend of architectural elements coexisting in perfect harmony.
“Beautiful,” she breathed.
“Aye.” Macrae’s voice was heavy with emotion. Emotion Allegra absorbed into herself in gentle ripples of reverence and grief.
“It must be difficult for you,” she said softly. “Coming here.”
“Difficult, aye. But good. This has been home for generations of Macraes. It needs tae be such again.”
“It’s an admirable endeavor.”
He slid her a sideways glance. “Thank ye,” he muttered
before turning his attention forward as he directed the sleigh past the castle. “The restoration will start in the spring.”
“We are not going to stop?” Allegra asked.
“Not here. There’s something else I need tae show ye, but we’ll have tae walk for a bit.”
Allegra’s chest tightened. She knew where they were heading.
Chapter 11
Baird directed the horse and sleigh toward a low stone wall. Hopping to the ground, he turned to assist Miss Smithson from the vehicle.
She met his gaze and his body tightened in a rush. Och, something about her eyes got him every time.
The warm brown sparked with intelligence and the passion she’d deny just as soon as he mentioned it. But it was more than sensual passion. It was a quiet, stubborn craving for more. She was a woman who had not reached her full potential and was fully aware of it.
Baird waited patiently for her to slide over on the cushioned bench and settle her mittened hand in his. “Step on the ledge here and I’ll get ye the rest of the way.”
When she did, he grasped her about the waist to lift her to the ground. She made a soft sound at the swift motion and he held her for an extra moment as her feet found purchase in the snow. Then he reluctantly released her. “Ready for a wee trek?”
“You come here frequently,” she noted once they started along the narrow but well-trod footpath, only partially covered by snow.
“Aye.”
As they continued along the route leading into the rocky hills rising up behind the manor, he told her a few family legends. Tales of knights and rebels and brigands. Even a story of a courtier who doubled the family holdings through a very advantageous marriage to the cousin of a queen. They were all tales he’d heard as a lad many times over. Stories that solidified their history and connection to land and hearth.
As they began a short ascent amongst craggy rock, he worried the way might be too rough for her, but she had no trouble keeping pace with him. Though her lips parted to allow for the swift breath of exertion and her smooth cheeks were tinged a lovely pink, she looked more invigorated than fatigued.
