What was it about a woman messing about with her hair that was so transfixing to a man?
He pushed to a stand and held out a hand for her. She grabbed hold, and he had her on her feet the next instant. Their hands held onto each other for a heartbeat of time, long enough for them both to notice. Neither wanted to break the contact, but each understood they must. He released her, and she retreated to a nearby outcropping of rock, balancing her hip against it for support.
He found his own boulder and waited. Juliet had something to say to him. Which was as well. He had something to say to her.
“Miss Dalhousie returns tomorrow for the performance.”
“Oh?” Rory could groan with frustration. In truth, he’d forgotten about the woman’s return. It didn’t concern him. Nothing about Miss Dalhousie did, or ever would. But…
The woman before him didn’t know that.
Right.
He’d made a right hash of matters, and that was a fact.
The time had arrived to fix them.
“I don’t care that Miss Dalhousie is returning,” he said. “I’ve never cared.”
Juliet’s eyebrows formed a straight line. “Never cared?”
“Not in a few years, at least.”
“A fewyears?” With every word she spoke, the famously cool, calm, and collected Miss Juliet Windermere became increasingly agitated.
“Further,” he continued. If she didn’t like what he’d already said, she certainly wouldn’t like this next bit. “I won’t be needing the poem.”
Juliet opened her mouth, but no words emerged, only stunned disbelief. Finally, she recovered herself and pushed off the outcropping. “What do you mean you won’t be needing the bloody poem?”
She stuck a hand down the front of her dress and began rummaging about, finally emerging with a neatly folded bunch of papers. She held them up accusingly. “I lost an entire night’s sleep finishing this.”
Rory crossed the short distance separating them and took the proffered papers. With the gibbous moon directly overhead, he was able to give the pages a quick scan. Five total, front and back, the script dense. “It’s quite, erm, prodigious.”
Juliet sniffed and lifted her chin. “I found a lot to say.”
“About Miss Dalhousie?” he asked, skeptical.
“Well, about waterfalls and such.”
He held a page close and squinted, just making out a few lines. “And about Hamish?”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I figured she must love Hamish. Who wouldn’t?”
“Miss Dalhousie, methinks,” he said. Oh, why wouldn’t they stop talking about that blasted woman? She was beside the point, entirely. “I’ve never seen her take to an animal now that I think on it.”
Juliet’s observant eye narrowed upon him. “You lied to me.”
There they were. Some of the words that needed airing.
“Lie is a very strong word,” he said. “More false pretenses than outright lies, I would say.”
She exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “You sound like Archie.”
Rory snorted. She wasn’t wrong.
“Deceived,” she amended.
That was a worse word.