Dalton’s stallion took the hedge, sailing across it. Regina drew her horse into a trot, and finally to a walk. She noticed that he was wearing a kilt and a length of tartan, along with a bonnet and a white shirt. His expression held a dark tension, and after he got off his horse, he strode forward as if he were a Scottish warrior in full pursuit. Would he pick her up and carry her off? The thought filled her with a sudden flare of interest.
Regina dismounted and tethered her mare to a nearby tree, stretching from the ride. It had been wonderful to feel so bold and wild. Her hair had come loose from the braid, and she untied the ribbon, letting it fall free.
‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ Dalton demanded, drawing close to her. ‘You shouldn’t have gone riding alone.’ Worry creased his face, and it struck her to realise that he cared about her.
‘I wanted a few moments to myself,’ she responded. ‘And I knew your clan members would never attack their lady. It seemed safe enough.’
‘You should have taken an escort. It’s never safe for a lady to be alone.’
She knew that well enough. But this was about having the courage to overcome her fears. For five years, she had cowered in the shadows, obeying her father blindly, and forgetting what it was like to make her own decisions. It was now time to break free of those chains and find her courage once more.
‘I’m glad you followed me,’ she admitted. The words were a bit reckless, and she walked towards the edge of the loch to stare out at the tranquil waters.
But Dalton wasn’t going to let this go. ‘What if a stranger had accosted you?’ he asked softly. ‘What would you have done?’
She tapped the dirk at her waist. ‘I would have skewered him like a pig.’
He drew closer. Before she could say a word, he had caught her around the waist and tossed the weapon away. ‘Now what would you do?’ His voice was fierce and demanding. For a moment, she lost her breath, for he appeared as if he intended to kiss her. The strength of his embrace made her aware of his muscled arms and the raw masculinity of this man.
Though she knew he was trying to prove his point, she was entirely distracted by wanting to feel his mouth on hers. Her body was pressed so close to his, she could feel his desire. But he didn’t press her for more. If she wanted his kiss, she would have to claim it herself.
Her heart pounded, and she stood on tiptoe. ‘I would do this,’ she murmured. With that, she touched her lips to his and kissed him.
The kiss seemed to set her body on fire. She was aching as he feasted upon her, his mouth hot and demanding. Past and present collided as she tried not to let the old fears haunt her. But the longer he kissed her, the more unsteady she felt. She was starting to lose control of herself, and she needed to pull away.
But when she twisted herself free, the sudden movement made her lose her balance. Her footing slipped, and she clung to Dalton. He tried to hold them, but it was too late. With an enormous splash, he fell into the loch—and he took her down with him. The icy water made her yelp, and she struggled to get out. Her riding habit was soaked, as was her hair and hat.
‘It’s freezing!’ she said, grasping at her heavy skirts to try and get out of the shallow water. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Aye, it’s verra cold.’ He caught her in his arms. ‘You could have picked a better day to swim.’
She was trembling so hard, she could barely speak. ‘Not today.’ Her teeth chattered, and she struggled to wade out of the water. Dalton helped her out, but she felt foolish for making them both fall in. He tried to help her wring the water from her soaked riding habit, but there was nothing to be done about it.
‘I suppose that’s one way to defend yourself from a man,’ he teased. ‘That is, if you were wanting to get away. Though you do look rather fetching with your hair soaked.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ she repeated.
‘Sorry you threw me in the loch or sorry for kissing me?’ His voice had gone low, and the resonant tone reminded her of a caress.
‘I’m not sorry I kissed you,’ she answered.
His face transformed, revealing a desire that mirrored hers. ‘Neither am I. I wouldn’t be sorry if it happened again.’ He reached out to take her hand in his. Though his palm was cold, she felt the invisible ties binding them together. He led her back to the horse, and she stopped a moment.
‘I think I should walk back to the house. It’s unfair to make the poor animal carry me when I’m so wet.’
‘You don’t have to go so far,’ he responded. ‘I know a place nearby where we can get dry.’ She glanced around but could see nothing. Dalton nodded towards the trees. ‘Come with me.’
They continued walking alongside the loch for half a mile, and at last she saw a tiny thatched house in the distance. The wind was freezing against her wet clothes, and she was grateful for any shelter at all. Even so, she asked, ‘Are you certain about this? I don’t want to intrude upon anyone.’
‘The house is mine,’ he said. ‘I built it when I was younger.’
‘You built it?’ She had no idea he knew how to construct a dwelling. He was an earl’s son, not a commoner. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I spent a lot of time on my own after Brandon died,’ he admitted. ‘I wanted a place where I could retreat. Some of the crofters helped me to build it. It’s not much, but I can make a fire for us.
