Highland Heather - Highland Heather Part 68
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Highland Heather Part 68

"Aye, my lord."

They paused in the shelter of the rose arbor, listening to the sound of the rain that pelted. Inside they were snug and dry.

Adrianna lifted her shawl to her face to wipe away the raindrops. As he watched Richard had an almost overpowering desire to kiss each one of them away. This sweet young lass would be shocked to the core if she could read his thoughts.

He glanced around.

"I regret that there is no place for you to sit."

"I do not mind standing."

A hint of his old humor returned.

"I would gladly exchange places with you, my lady, if I could."

She laughed at his silly joke. Her laughter was like a soothing balm.

He joined in her laughter.

"But, if you would not mind, I would gladly share this chair."

She glanced shyly at him.

"There is not room enough for two of us, my lord."

"There is, if you sit on my lap."

"Would I hurt you if I did?"

It would be the sweetest pain he had ever endured. He said simply, "There is very little pain in my legs, Adrianna. Usually there is no feeling at all."

"Oh, my lord." Without any warning she dropped to the ground and wrapped her arms around his knees. Her laughter died in her throat.

Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Forgive me, my lord. I know not why I weep.

Nor why I should care so about your pain. "

Richard was rendered speechless. While she wept, he could do nothing except sit helplessly and watch her tears fall.

Finally he touched a hand to her damp hair. Such soft hair, he thought. Like a cloud of burnished silk. In a tone low with feeling he whispered, "Do not cry for me, Adrianna."

"It is not you I cry for."

She looked up at him and he could not help himself. He cupped her face between his hands and at her next words felt his heart leap to his throat.

"I weep because I am too afraid to show you how I feel."

His brows drew together into a puzzled frown.

"I do not understand, lass. How do you feel?"

"My tongue is tied in your presence." She touched a hand to her heart.

"All the things I have locked inside are bursting to be free. But you are the mighty warrior Richard Grey, devoted friend to the queen, hero known to all of France and England. And I am unworthy--to have such feelings for you."

"Feelings? For me?" He touched a finger to the curve of her cheek, and she moved against his palm like a kitten.

He felt his heart begin to soar and cautioned himself not to hope. But it was too late. Already his blood had begun to heat at the thought that this shy, sweet creature might actually care for him. "Are you telling me that you are not offended by the sight of me?"

"Offended?" She drew back, aghast.

"I am in awe of you, my lord. You are so handsome, so strong."

She thought him handsome? Strong?

"You converse as easily with the queen as you do with the servants. As you do with a foreigner like me."

He was silent for a moment as he studied her. With his thumbs he wiped away the last of her tears. Then, in a voice filled with passion, he whispered, "Talking has always been easy for me. Perhaps it is time I learned to listen as well. Stay here with me, lass. Tell me about yourself, your life, your dreams."

"My dreams are beyond my reach, I fear." She flushed and found herself drawn to open up to this man as she had never opened up to anyone before.

"To dwell in a place as peaceful as Grey stone Abbey. To awaken each morning to a chorus of birds and the perfume of roses."

He felt his hopes soar to the heavens.

"Would there be a place for me in your dreams, lass?"

She gave a barely perceptible nod of her head before turning away with a flush.

"You are all I have dreamed of since first I saw you."

"Oh, lass." He caught her hands and drew her onto his lap. With his lips pressed to her temple he murmured, "I pray this rain lasts for hours."

"What is this about a fall?" Morgan strode into Cordell's room.

Madeline sat on the chaise, tying a strip of fresh linen around her brother's hand. Her husband stood beside the fireplace watching.

"It was clumsy of me," Cordell said, glancing up from the dressing. "At first I thought I was pushed. But Madeline has convinced me that it was just my imagination. Who else would have been walking the stairs at that late hour? And why would anyone want to push me?"

Morgan's eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps you could tell me more."

"There is little enough to tell. I awoke in need of something to slake my thirst. Rather than wake a servant I thought I would go down to the scullery. But as I paused at the top of the stairs I thought I saw a shadow of someone running toward me."

He glanced at his sister and saw her disapproving look. They were, after all, guests of Lord Morgan Grey and the queen. It would not be proper to suggest that anyone in their host's home would do anything improper.