She strained but still couldn't parse Cormac's words. He barely put two words together for Marjorie. What would he have to say about her, and to her godforsaken horse no less?
There were windows along the back wall. She edged out of the stables. She'd hear better from there.
The building was a long rectangle perched on the edge of Dunnottar Rock, and Marjorie knew a moment of hesitation. It was a sheer tumble from the cliff top to the crashing waves far below. But she was no fool. She'd be careful. The windows toward the end weren't so very close to the ledge.
With a hand steadied along the yellowed stone walls, she stepped carefully along the side, quietly nestling her footsteps down into the calf-high tangle of weeds that fringed the stables. Wind whipped in from the sea, and she felt exposed, perched so close to the ledge and so high in the air. Nerves prickled up the backs of her legs. She estimated the distance between the barn and the drop below, assuring herself that a safe amount of land stretched between her and a fall from Dunnottar Rock.
She took a deep breath and pressed on, step by slow step. By the time she passed around the back, her heart was pounding in her throat. But, sure enough, Cormac's voice came to her louder than ever. And though it was still an aggravating mumble, she plucked more words from the air. Aberdeen… lass… learn… vexation.
Vexation? She glowered, eyeing the ledge. It was even wider than it had appeared from afar, and it gave her confidence. All she needed to do was make it a few more steps, and she'd be able to peer in the last window.
Slowly she reached along the wall, curving her fingers around the crude stone sill. It framed a square of shadow from which Cormac's voice resonated.
Would she be peering into his stall, or a neighboring stall? Would he smile or frown as he spoke?
The window was her sole focus, and she was so shocked when the rock crumbled underfoot that a scream lodged in her throat. She clung mutely to the windowsill, her foot scrabbling for purchase.
A single train of thought swamped her mind: she was ever a girlish fool, she'd messed it all up again, she was about to fall to her death, and she'd never find Davie.
And then an image came to her, in a flash, and the grief was unbearable. Her bed, Cormac's dark stare.
Cormac. She'd never know what it would be to kiss Cormac.
Marjorie gritted her teeth and scrambled for footing. Curse it, but she would find Davie and she'd steal a kiss from Cormac when it was all through.
An arm reached roughly around her waist. Astonishment released her voice from her throat, and she shrieked. She knew a moment of pure fear, and then she recognized the feel of him. Cormac.
“
How,” she gasped as he pulled her tightly to him. He edged back along the side of the barn. Tilting her head up, she caught sight of his face, and she drank it in, fascinated. He exuded anger, possession, and strength. It was a side of him she'd never seen. The boy she'd known was long forgotten. It was a man who held her now. “How did you know… ?”
Rage twisted his features into a dark mask. “Good Christ, woman. What were you doing?” She felt strangely pleased. He wanted to wring her neck, but she didn't care. His face was infused with something she hadn't seen there in years: life. Cormac was animated and angry and alive. It must've meant something. He would help her; she was certain she could wear him down. Perhaps it'd even bring them closer again.
“I came to check on Una. ”
“From the edge of a bloody cliff?” Wrapping an arm around her back and one beneath her knee, he scooped her up, his movements angry and abrupt.
She'd thought the look in his eyes had been foreign, but him, his body, this was more foreign and more thrilling than anything she'd ever imagined. He smelled faintly of sweat and leather, and his chest was a wall of rock against her side. Her Cormac, a man now.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. His hair brushed at her sleeves, and she wished her arms were bare. She longed to touch that hair, wondered if it would feel soft or coarse at her fingertips. “How did you know I was out there?”
“You can't spy on me. ” His words were sharp, staccato punches. “It's impossible. ”
“Why is it impossible?”
Cormac glared straight ahead, seeming unable even to look at her in his fury. “I was a scout. Nobody gets by me.
It's what I do. ”
“That only confirms it. ”
“What?”
“That I was right. You are the only man who can help me find Davie. ” Scowling, he strode more purposefully onto the green. She chuckled at his obstinacy. This only seemed to rile him more.
“You can put me down now. ” They were far from the cliff's edge, yet he showed no sign of slowing.
“No. ”