“I’ll be damned if you are not wearing the plaid come Hogmanay night.”
Now he just had to figure out a way to get Mary to understand that she held his heart, and that from now on, she would always come first.
Chapter Thirteen
Mary wondered if she could ever be comfortable in the freezing Scottish winter.
As soon as she and Hugh left the protection of the high castle walls the following morning and headed onto the lower slopes of Strathmore Mountain, the wind attacked them. Its cruel fingers pinched her face and bit through to her bones.
The chilly weather, however, was only one of her problems. The other was the odd mood which she discovered Hugh was in the moment she met him downstairs at breakfast that morning. His greeting for her was a terse “Good morning, Mary.”
He’d barely acknowledged the rest of the family seated around the breakfast table, reserving his responses to their questions of him to one or two words at best.
Something was seriously amiss. She knew enough of him to know that he usually only became this taciturn during exams, and that was due to lack of sleep. But he was here, at home with his family, and he should be happy, not lost in a dark mood. She had only accepted his offer to take a stroll on the side of Strathmore Mountain so she could be alone with him and try to get to the bottom of what troubled him. She hoped he would confide in her.
“It’s a brisk morning,” she said, trying to lighten the mood but failing.
He nodded and gave her a curt, “Yes.”
She followed him as he walked the narrow track which meandered along the side of the mountain. At one point, it broke into two sections. One track looked like it eventually became a bigger road which continued on and then disappeared to one side of the mountain. The other led up onto Strathmore Mountain.
When Hugh made to continue along the path which crossed the mountain, Mary stopped. If he wanted to share his foul mood with her, then she would rather it be somewhere warm.
He took a few more steps before he turned and look back at her. “Are you coming?”
“No. Not if you are going to be a misery guts for the duration of our walk. If I am going to freeze to death, I would prefer it was with a smile on my face. I don’t know what is bothering you this morning, Hugh. If you don’t tell me what is wrong, then I shall return to the castle, and you can keep your own company.” Mary stood her ground. She knew her words were harsh, but her experience of Hugh was that sometimes he only responded to a gruff approach.
She nodded with some relief when his stiff shoulders slouched. Her words had reached him.
He walked back to her. “I’m sorry. I lay awake all night trying to resolve a problem. I’m still not sure if I have found the right solution.”
“Try me. You know I am always someone you can turn to for advice,” she replied.
A brittle hint of his usual self appeared on his face. “Yes, you are. That is another of your many wonderful traits, Mary. Though I am not so certain that you are the right person in whom I should confide, seeing as the problem concerns you.”
She should have seen it coming. Hugh had held off on doing anything about the issue of the university and her living arrangements. But now, it appeared after speaking with his brother, he had come to the conclusion that there was little, if anything, he could do about it.
“You don’t need to go into battle for me with the head of St John’s College. You have your new appointment at St Martin-in-the-Fields to worry about. Just let things stay as they are,” she replied.
He huffed in clear annoyance at her reply. “That matter is not yet settled, but it is not what vexes me this morning.”
She waited. If there was one thing, she had in abundance from dealing with students all her life, it was patience. Bitterly cold, evil wind and all, she could stand on the side of a mountain and wait him out.
His gaze drifted from her to a nearby barn. He pointed toward it. “Let’s at least get out of the wind so we can talk.”
When the barn door closed behind them, Mary put a hand to her ears. Her winter bonnet had kept most of her head warm, but her poor ears were stinging. “Remind me to never complain about an English winter ever again. How do you people survive?”
“Actually, it is barely winter yet. Come January, the mountain will be lost under a thick layer of snow, and even the road into the village will become impassable at times,” Hugh replied.
Mary found herself a nice pile of warm, dry straw on which to sit and plopped down on it. Hugh remained standing. After pulling off one of his gloves, he rubbed it over his face.
A chill of worry settled in her stomach. It was unusual to see Hugh in such a troubled state.
She patted the straw next to her. “Come and sit down. Tell me your troubles.”
With an uncertain huff, he wandered over and dropped down beside her. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”
He fell silent for a time. As the seconds stretched into minutes, Mary began to wonder if he had changed his mind about confiding in her. He startled her when he finally spoke again.
“You and I are friends, are we not?” he ventured.
“Yes. I hope so,” she replied.
He was laying the ground for whatever difficult conversation lay ahead. Mary picked up a piece of straw and began to nervously wrap it around her finger.
“Well, I don’t want us to be friends. I mean, not just friends.”
“What do you mean?”
He moved to face her, taking her hand in his. “I want you
