A Very Highland Holiday - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,111
were two stories, as in this case. It was harder still if there were several tales about a person or an object. She tipped her head to look up at him as they entered the market square. “Do you think it is that—a legend?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Probably. But as you say, it has persisted. I suppose a part of me hopes it really exists. Do you think the thirteen treasures do?”
Elspeth exhaled. “Like you and Lann Dhearg, I want to believe they do. Especially the Heart of Llanllwch.”
“Why, so you can make someone fall in love with you?” His tone was teasing, but there was something else to it too.
Elspeth paused, and as he drew to a stop beside her, he turned slightly. “No, it’s just more appealing to me than a sword or a halter or a cauldron.” She named just a few of the treasures.
Mr. Williams laughed, a warm, robust sound that made Elspeth smile. “For me, it’s the cloak. I should like to be able to render myself invisible.”
“I can definitely understand the benefits of that. Perhaps I might change my mind.”
“You cannot, I’m afraid. The cloak has been spoken for—it is mine. You may have the heart. It’s made of tourmaline and quite pretty, it’s said.”
Elspeth grinned. “You’re a beast, but fine, I’ll take the heart.”
They continued to the stalls, where Elspeth introduced him to everyone she knew. They sampled ale and fresh-baked pastry, and watched a trio of musicians. By the time they’d made their way to all the stalls, it was late in the day.
“I must return home to have dinner with my father,” Elspeth said reluctantly. She’d enjoyed their afternoon together.
“Would it be wrong of me to ask for one more story?” He grinned. “That makes me sound like a child.”
Elspeth was inordinately flattered. “It does not. Must you leave on the morrow?”
He nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“Perhaps you’ll stop by again on your return trip. My father is the physician here—you can find us on the other side of town.” She gestured past the square toward the road that led to the river.
“I may do that.”
They found themselves removed from the stalls, in a quiet area off the road. Elspeth took her hand from his arm and allowed herself to stare up into his striking blue eyes.
“I hope you will,” she whispered.
He took her hand. “I did not expect to find you here, Miss Marshall. You are an impressive woman—smart and confident. Most women of your age are already married or nearly so.”
“My father would like me to be. I am too interested in books, however. The reading and writing of them.” She blushed. “Most men—of any age—find me…odd.”
“That is their misfortune,” Mr. Williams said softly. “I hope your father won’t press you into a union you don’t want.”
“He won’t.” Of that, Elspeth was certain. He wanted her to wed, but more than that, he wanted her to be happy. “He knows and accepts that I am content with my library. For now.”
For the first time, Elspeth glimpsed a shared future. With a strong man who found her interesting.
“I am glad to hear it, Miss Marshall. Perhaps when I come by again in the future, you will still be unmarried.”
What was he saying?
Before she could ask, he shook his head. “Forgive me. That was inappropriate. I shall hope our paths cross again. Until then, be very well, Miss Marshall.” He bent his head and brushed his lips across her cheek.
Lightness filled her, as if she might float away. She clasped his hand tightly so that he might anchor her to the earth.
Without thinking, she put her other hand on his neck and held his head down. She moved so she could put her lips to his.
Shocked by her action, she gasped as she pulled back. “My apologies. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t, actually.”
“Sometimes thought is overrated.” His eyes gleamed with heat. “Don’t apologize. I am not in the least offended.”
Elspeth relaxed slightly, even as a wonderful current of anticipation flowed through her. “I really must go.”
“You look as if you don’t want to.”
“I do not. Maybe just one more—” She cut herself off and wrinkled her nose. “You’ll think me a wanton.”
“One more kiss?” He leaned close as he steered her toward the side of a shop. Blocked by the stalls, they could not be seen from the square. “If you are a wanton, then I am a rogue.”
She smiled up at him. “Oh, I like rogues. Remember,