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She sighed. “The real world is dragging us back, isn’t it?”

The aching regret in her voice echoed his regret at needing to pretend that nothing had changed, once he returned to the castle. Whereas in ways he had difficulty comprehending, after today, everything was different.

“Aye,” he said without moving.

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either.”

“I wish we’d stayed in the lodge.”

“We can go back tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes.” Her ready acceptance filled him with carnal anticipation. “But there’s tonight in between.”

Aye, there was. Having caught her at last, he was loath to let her go, even for a few hours.

“What I’d give to have you in my bed. High up in my tower, you’d be queen of the glen.”

Her laugh was weary, and not just because of all they’d done at the lodge, he guessed. “You know I can’t. For your sake as much as mine. The Mackinnon can’t take a mistress here where he rules.”

No, he couldn’t. He owed his people more respect than that. He suspected his father, for all his selfishness, had faced the same dilemma. The ostentatious fittings of the lodge had always struck Fergus as excessive to the needs of a man stalking the deer. As he’d grown to adulthood, there had been whispers about the previous laird trysting there with a crofter’s wife or two. Warning enough that he and Marina needed to be careful. The hills might appear empty, but gossip could run through the glen at an astonishing speed.

“I don’t want to let ye go.” He was talking about more than the coming hours of separation, devil take it.

And wasn’t that a terrifying revelation? They’d negotiated an affair, but with every minute, the connection strengthened between him and this extraordinary woman. Now the prospect of losing her felt like someone stuck a dirk into his ribs.

To his relief, Marina took his words at face value. “We have tomorrow,” she said, repeating his reassurance.

“Aye,” he responded, only just stopping himself from asking what happened when their tomorrows ran out and she went back to Italy.

“I dare not look at you tonight, or Papa will guess what we’ve done,” she said.

“And if I look at you, I willnae be able to resist hauling you into my arms.” He feared he wasn’t joking, although he appreciated the way she tried to lighten the atmosphere.

“We’d scandalize Kirsty and Jenny.”

He made himself laugh, although having to let Marina go felt like someone hammered on a bruise. He wasn’t ashamed of what they’d done. It seemed more sinful to hide how he felt than it had to join his body with hers.

Reverend Angus in his kirk would find that thought utterly reprehensible.

“We must go back,” he said. “It will be dark soon.”

In the end, Marina was the one who shifted. He couldn’t command his arms to release her.

“Fergus, it’s been a day I’ll always treasure.” She slid to the ground and stared up at him, her eyes luminous in the gloaming. “Thank you for your care and your kindness. Thank you for the…pleasure.”

Although her words were powerfully moving, they made him frown. “That sounds like goodbye.”

Her lips twisted. “No, but I want you to know how precious you made me feel. There was desire, but there was friendship, too, and I loved everything we did.”

“Marina…” Her name emerged as a choked mutter. “You are precious.”

He dismounted and stepped up beside her. “Give me one last kiss.”

To his surprise and regret, she shook her head. “No.”

“No?”


Tags: Anna Campbell The Lairds Most Likely Historical