She told herself it was the pregnancy, that women yearned for everything from pickles with ice cream to brand-new houses when they were carrying babies. The nesting instinct manifested itself in strange ways. Maybe the empty feeling inside her heart was nothing more than that.
DUNCAN WATCHED his wife with a kind of wonder as she moved through the days before the party. The differences between her old life in Houston and her new life at Glenraven were unfathomable, and yet she seemed to have settled in with more grace and enthusiasm than he would have imagined possible. Certainly more than he would have been able to manage were the situation reversed.
She worked for her family’s company. She helped Old Mag with the party preparations, even though he’d insisted they hire help for the big day. She went into town on numerous errands and charmed everyone she met.
And she posed for him.
In the evening, long after supper was over, he’d hear a tap at the door to his studio. Then the door would swing open and she’d step inside, into the shimmering light, and he felt as if she’d brought the moon and the stars with her. They’d exchange a few words and then she would drop her robe into a pale blue puddle at her feet and stand there naked before him. More beautiful, more radiant than anything he’d ever seen.
He would position her on the chaise, his hands lingering on the outward flare of her hips, the glorious swell of her breasts. One time, two nights ago, their eyes met and he saw recognition in hers, the sense that she knew what he was feeling and that she might be feeling the same thing herself. He cursed himself for letting the moment pass. She would have been his if he’d asked.
He’d never been an indecisive man. He knew what he wanted and he took the shortest route to obtain it. But since Samantha came into his life, it seemed as if he moved two steps back for every one that brought him closer to her. They moved through their days on parallel tracks, and he wondered if he would ever find the way to bring those tracks together.
The party was set for Saturday evening. On Friday morning Samantha was scheduled for her first appointment with the gynecologist Lucy had recommended to her.
“You don’t have to come along,” his wife said to him as she fixed her hair in front of the bedroom mirror. Long strands of pale gold shimmered over her shoulders and down her back, and he frowned as she gathered it into sections and began to braid it close to her head. “You don’t like French braids?” she asked his reflection.
“Nothing wrong with braids,” he said. “But not for you.”
Her hands worked swiftly, crossing and recrossing the sections into an intricate weave. “This is neat and functional, Duncan. Businesslike.”
“That’s why it’s not right for you.” A calculated risk, that statement. He’d jumped the track.
She said nothing. Her fingers continued braiding.
“I’ll bring the car around,” he said as she finished up.
She nodded. “I’ll be right down.”
Thirty minutes later they were ushered into the doctor’s office. They called Duncan into the examination room once Sam was in position on the table. He waited while the doctor attached sensors to her belly then began the ultrasound process.
Duncan and Samantha watched the flickering images on the monitor then looked at each other. Neither one could make sense out of the amorphous shapes and shadows, and they waited quietly for the doctor to identify what they were seeing.
“Over here,” said the doctor, pointing to the lower right portion of the screen. “See? Those are the feet.”
Duncan narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to the monitor and suddenly, miraculously, the image rose up before him and everything else snapped into place.
Next to him he heard a small cry from his wife, a sharp note of joy he would remember for the rest of his life. He reached for her hand and she clasped it tightly.
“Oh, Duncan—” Her voice caught and she stopped.
He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead, imprinting the warmth of her skin, her sweet scent, to memory. Few moments in life presented themselves with such singular clarity, such life-changing certainty. A man’s first glimpse of his child was one of them.
THEY LEFT the doctor’s office an hour later and drove deeper into the Highlands. They didn’t talk about it but Duncan knew he’d made the right decision when he saw the way Samantha settled, deeper into her seat and smiled.
He loved this wild and rugged land with his whole being and he wanted her to love it, too. If she couldn’t love him, if that wasn’t in their future, then maybe his beloved Scotland could work its magic and draw her closer.
Bailey Park was to the west, facing the sea. He parked near an outcropping of rock then went around to open her door for her. There was a peacefulness to her expression that he’d never seen before, and she gave him her hand as if she’d been doing so every day of their lives.
In a way he could no longer remember those days before he met her. A man would be wise to remember the darkness even in the face of radiant light, but it was already too late. She was in his blood now, even if she never knew it.
THEY SAT TOGETHER on the cliff and watched the angry waters slam against the rocks below. Duncan kept his arm around her, and Sam found herself leaning against him. It wasn’t a conscious choice. Her body simply moved toward him as if doing so was the most natural thing on earth.
Every now and again she’d glance in his direction and invariably he was looking at her, those beautiful eyes of his filled with so much emotion that
