the logical choice, the well-mannered one, and marriage was after all a matter for logical thinking not contemplation of hot glances.
But that was what her mind dwelled on.
She would tell Curan at supper that she had thought the matter through and decided to be introduced to the Scot. Many noble daughters never had the opportunity to even speak their opinions of their intended grooms; her brother was being kind.
So why did she feel so torn?
He was spending far too much time waiting on her.
Gordon Dwyre, Laird Barras, reined his stallion in and scanned the edge of his land. His retainers were fanned out behind him. They knew their places well, blending in with the land formations to make it look as though he was alone.
Today, there was no taper of dust rising up into the afternoon air. He moved his gaze off the hills and felt disappointment sour his disposition.
That was annoying. He’d never formally met the woman, at least not beyond watching her race across the land that was so close he might almost call it his own, or ducking into the hallways beyond the great hall where he had met her brother. His lips curved up with the memories. The woman rode with a wild abandon that drew his attention when there was much he should be investing his time in that did nae involve riding out onto the ridge to watch her. When she discovered him sitting at her father’s table, her eyes turned dark, snaring his attention in a far different manner. It was almost if the woman was daring him to come after her.
That was something he had a great deal of difficulty ignoring. Much like coming out to see her riding in the early morning.
There was something fascinating about the way she leaned low over the neck of her horse and let the animal surge forward with every bit of its strength.
It also drew a frown from him. He’d admit that freely enough. The woman didn’t seem to have any fear of breaking her neck. But that idea only took him back to being enchanted with her and why she took to the hills so often. It was almost as if she was running away from something. There were times he swore he could feel her pain on the wind.
“Well, lads, it looks like we’re going to be left wanting today.”
Maybe that was for the better. He had a clan to look after and several smaller lairds who surrounded his land to maintain friendships with. Sitting on his stallion and watching for his English neighbor’s sister wasn’t going to accomplish any good. However much he might be fascinated by her, he needed a wife who would be his partner, not a girl who did nothing with her time but ride. That was a hard fact, and he was accustomed to facing such; he wouldn’t have lasted two months as laird if he couldn’t choose the best things for his clan. It was more logical to seek a wife other than Jemma.
But knowing it was the best choice, the one rooted in logic, didn’t keep him from nursing disappointment all the way back to his castle.
Jemma was late to supper. Curan narrowed his eyes until he noticed the way she walked. Her brother processed a keen sense of sight, one he’d developed while riding across hostile territory in France at the side of the king.
“Is Bridget feeling better?”
Her brother’s face reflected his frustration. “My wife claims that she is well and balanced, yet she cannot enter this hall without her belly heaving.”
Jemma froze with one hand on a round of bread. “Oh . . . I see . . . oh, how wonderful. That is welcome news. Amber Hill needs a baby.” She smiled, joy filling her.
But Curan looked far from feeling wonderful, deep concern etched into his face.
“It is the way of it. You should take one thing at a time to her and see what does not cause her stomach upset. Then we shall know what it is that does not agree with her. I understand that all women have something that they cannot bear to smell while they are with child.”
One of her brother’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?” His gaze went to the table, scanning the dishes that were laid out for their supper.
“Father’s constitution was very delicate . . . when he was ill . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she broke a piece of bread off the round in her hands but discovered she had no appetite. Grief renewed its grip on her, making her ache with loneliness. “I shall take this bread to her now and see if it pleases or not.”
Her brother caught her wrist before she rose from her chair. “I am sorry I was not here to share in the duties, Jemma.”
She shook off his grip and picked up a wooden plate holding warm bread. Snapping a cloth, she covered the bread with it. “It was a daughter’s place, Curan, and I do not regret a moment of it, only that I seemed to be unable to resume my life once father had gone. You were correct to take issue with me this morning. I didn’t realize that I had turned my back on everything until you forced me to see it. It is time to move on with my own life. I will meet Lord Barras if you still wish to consider a union between our houses.” She lifted the plate up and offered her brother a steady look. “But I do know a bit about soothing unsettled bellies. Let us see if Bridget finds my methods of any comfort. It is time for Amber Hill to have new life again.”
Approval shone in her brother’s eyes along with relief. For all his strength, there was a good heart buried deep inside his hardened exterior. Turning her back on him, she made her way through the corridors of Amber Hill. It was a modern fortress, one of the towers being completed even now. Her brother hoped to have the roof in place before the weather turned foul. That would allow the builders to finish the inside of the tower during the frozen months when building furniture and finishing window shutters might be done.
Bridget Newbury was sound asleep in the huge bed she shared with her new husband. Her hair was flowing across the pillow, but her face had a pinched look that betrayed how her condition was needling her. Jemma knew well how to keep her steps light and silent. She placed the bread on the table, pulling back the cloth cover enough so that her sister-in-law might see it when she awoke. She would eat at some point and her belly would ripen.
That was a pleasant thought.
Jemma walked back down the stairs and turned to go toward the stable. The sun was beginning to set, the horizon turning scarlet. But there was still an hour of light, and today she had earned her riding time. That fact gave her satisfaction, and she realized that she had not felt so in a very long time. There had been nothing save worry and dread filling her, but it was beginning to drain away now, allowing her relief. She noticed the beauty of the
