Lizzie shook her head and tried to will back tears that were threatening to fall. “But why? Why would you say that after all these years? Do you remember what you said to me that last day? How you thought I was ugly and you didn’t want to marry me?”

He turned to pace away and ran a hand over his face. “I do remember that. I did say that. And I’m sorry that you’ve forgotten everything else of our years together but that last conversation.”

She felt defensive all of a sudden. “What do you mean?”

He took a breath. “I remember being a moody, sullen, sixteen year old. I also remember the years that came before.”

She stared at him, feeling mesmerized. “What do you remember?”

“The time I sunk one foot in the bog, and you helped me get out by laying a log across two bits of land, but then I lost my boot.”

She couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips. “You were worried that you’d get the belt if you came back without your boot, and so I was worried for you.”

“Yes. And then we spent the entire afternoon digging for the thing, finally retrieved it, and the leather was mushy from the bog. So we washed both boots in the water, and then I earned the belt anyway, for ruining the things.”

“I thought you were brave.”

“What? Screaming like a lad?”

“You didn’t scream. Not once. You didn’t even cry.”

He grinned. “Well, I couldnae in front of you, could I? To tell ye the truth, I cried in my bed that night.”

“I heard you.”

Dropping his head, he made a scoffing noise and looked adorably embarrassed.

“I haven’t forgotten everything,” she said.

“Have you not?”

“Fluffy is probably my favorite memory.”

“The blasted dog that bit me?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “You were so brave that day.”

Now he really was blushing. “Go on with ye.”

She stared at him, seeing a side of him that she didn’t know existed. Or didn’t remember. “When we found her on the side of the road, with her leg broken, I thought she was done for. But even though she bit you, you wrapped her in your shirt, and took her home, and bound her leg. Did you know that she didn’t even limp after the binding came off?”

“I did know. From yer letters.”

“I always thought it was amazing, that you took a dog that was at death’s door, carried her, then treated her, and that she’s lived a long, happy life since.”

He finally turned to look at her, probably because of the emotion in her voice.

“I thought …” she swallowed. “That day, I mean. That day, was the first time that I thought you’d make me a good husband.”

His expression turned incredulous. “Lizzie …” He reached for her, but she backed away.

“So, yes. Sometimes I did think of the times that we had together as children. It was just … I also thought about what you said. The fact that you were attracted to a certain type of girl, and that I could never be that type or that girl.”

“What girl?”

“Agatha.”

“Who?”

“Agatha! The girl you thought was so beautiful!”

“Lizzie … I was sixteen years old. She was the girl I thought was beautiful that week. I don’t even remember what she looked like!” He turned away, exasperated, and then turned back to her. “But I’ve had years — literally years — to think about ye. To think about how ye might have filled out. To think about what the funny, thoughtful girl on the other end of those letters would look like. Because you know what? The girl in those letters? She’s the one I’ve been obsessed with for years. Do ye ken how many nights I lay in bed and wondered about ye? Do ye know how many times I’ve woken with your name on my lips? Don’t tell me about some lass I had a momentary fancy for when I was a young boy.”

He took a step closer to her and she couldn’t catch her breath, didn’t know where to look. He crowded her up against the desk, until she couldn’t move back any further, and he was pressed up against her.

Her heart thundered as he took her hands, and put them on his chest. She sucked in a breath.

“Do you know,” his voice had deepened even further. “That since the moment that I saw you at the Somerset Ball, ye’ve entranced me?” He lowered his head, to whisper against her ear. “Obsessed me. Left me yearning for you, and wanting another taste of you.”

His mouth moved from her ear, to hover in front of her lips. “There is nae other girl but you. There never has been.”

“Alexander.” She turned her head away, her voice faint. “I always knew I was to marry you. And so I gave you my heart when we were children.”

He breathed out heavily. “And then I crushed it, didn’t I?”

She considered lying to spare his feelings, but then decided that she was this far in, so she might as well tell him the truth. “Yes, you did.”

He spun her around and sat on the desk and pulled her between his legs. “I wish I could go back to that moment. I wish I could grab that young boy by the scruff of his neck and give him a good shake. I’m sorry that I hurt you, lass. Just know that I will do everything in my power to make sure that nothing, and no one, ever hurts you again. Myself included.”

Slowly, in increments, she rested against him until, finally, she nodded, and lay her cheek against his chest.

“You’ll give me your trust again?”

She nodded once more.

With that, he bent and kissed her. A brush of heat against her lips, a silky caress as she strained upward against him, his mouth taking hers as he pulled her tight against him as if he couldn’t get her close enough.

When he finally lifted his head, he gazed down at her, and seemed satisfied by whatever he saw.

“Let’s make some new memories, Lizzie. Even better ones.” His voice deepened, was huskier.

She nodded, as she tried, once again, to catch her breath.

***

wanted to say more, to stay, but footsteps started down the hall, and Lizzie’s face took on a panicked expression. “You need to go! Get out of here!”

She rushed to the window and threw it open, and then rounded him to push him toward it. “Do you remember how?”

“Of course.” They had escaped through her window on more than one occasion when they been children.

He hurried out the window, and stood on the ledge, his hand gripping the ivy, as he lowered a leg to the windowsill on the floor below. He stopped, and looked up at her.

She gazed down at him, her expression softer than it had been toward him since they were children.

He grinned up at her. “’Tis going be all right, Lizzie. We’re going to make this work.” She turned, spoke to someone behind her, and then carefully shut the window.

He watched her until she was out of sight, and then carefully climbed the rest of the way down.

He licked his lips. He could still feel her mouth against his, still taste her sweetness.

Following her to her bedroom and kissing her senseless certainly had not been a part of his strategy. He grinned slowly. But it worked.

Mayhap, he needed to stop being such a stickler, learn to unbend a bit, to improvise.

***

lay in bed later that night and when she’d touched her mouth for the fifth time, remembering Alexander’s kiss, she let out a growl of frustration.

She needed to stop thinking about his kisses.

She chuckled, suddenly remembering Alexander’s disgruntlement when he’d reminded her that she once said his kiss was revolting.

She hadn’t known when she was fourteen years old what she was missing.

She chuckled again. She hadn’t been disgusted tonight, had she? In fact, her feelings were quite the opposite.

She was going to marry him, wasn’t she?

At the thought, the rightness of it seemed to settle within her, excitement.

Alexander was correct. They had always belonged to each other. She suddenly wished he were in the house, down the hall, where he used to sleep when they were children.

She found she wanted to talk to him, wished to know how he felt about the situation, about her.

She regretted the fact they’d been interrupted earlier.

He’d been about to make some sort of declaration; she was sure of it.

She touched her lips once more, deliberately this time, and then turned on her side, settled more deeply into her pillow, and sighed.

Perhaps, just perhaps, everything would work out just fine.

***

next morning, Alexander knocked on the door at precisely nine in the morning.

Lord Huntington was a stickler who kept country hours, and breakfast was to be served precisely on time.

As he was escorted into the house by Faraday, Lizzie was just coming down the stairs.

He hurried forward to meet her. “Good morning.” Was his voice deeper than usual? He cleared his throat and, anxious to touch her, offered his hand to her as she walked down the last three steps.

She looked happy to see him.

He’d relived their kisses enough times to feel like he’d kissed her a thousand times, and knew her lips intimately. He couldn’t help it as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

Surrounded by servants as they were, with her family in the next room, he couldn’t kiss her again, so he lifted her hand to his mouth, kissed her knuckles, and tucked her arm within his own. “Did ye sleep well, my sweet?” He tried out the endearments, and found it fell from his lips effortlessly.

Surprise flickered across her expression, and her hand clenched on his arm. “I did, and you?”

The devil in him leaned down and murmured, “Not so well as all that. I relived your mouth pressed to mine, and then dreamed of ye after I fell asleep.”

Becoming color rushed to her cheeks, as they entered the dining room. She released his arm when they reached the sideboard, and both of them loaded plates with breakfast.

He watched to see what foods she enjoyed, finding he wished to know everything there was to know about her, to fill any gaps in the mystery that was his Lizzie.

“Good morning, MacGregor.” Lord Huntington sounded amused. “It looks as if our breakfast table is the place to be this morning.”

Not sure what he meant, he turned to find that Mr. Russell was already seated at the table, a plate full of food before him.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed the man before, as he was usually well aware of his surroundings.

Lizzie was driving him to madness.

He lifted his chin. “Russell.” He addressed his rival as he moved closer to Lizzie.

“MacGregor.” The American returned the greeting, his eyes watchful, careful, as he took in Lizzie’s demeanor, and Alexander’s sudden protectiveness.

His mother walked in the room, yawning. She smiled when she saw him. “Alexander!” You are here awfully early this morning.”

His mother looked between him and Lizzie, and her smile widened. “Ah, that’s just as it should be.”

His mother moved to the sideboard to load up on breakfast, and because he didn’t have a choice, Alexander sat across from Mr. Russell, placing Lizzie on his left next to Matthew.

“Mr. Russell, how long do you plan to stay in the area?” Alexander asked.

The man’s eyes immediately went to Lizzie, and Alexander tensed. He’d like to have grabbed her hand, but as she was using her fork at the moment, she wouldn’t thank him.

“I’m not sure. I suppose it depends on how events play out.”

With that, the man smiled at Lizzie, and set out to charm her once more. “Lady Elizabeth, I don’t believe I’ve told you about the cattle drive we have in the fall each year.”

As everyone listened attentively to his charming story of danger and derring-do, Alexander ate his breakfast and fumed.

The man needed to go home to his beloved cattle, and his picturesque ranch, and leave the rest of them in peace.

By the time the meal was over, Alexander was ready to throw Lizzie over his shoulder, march out the front door, and insist upon a fast ride to Gretna Green.

Anything to get her away from Mr. Russell.

Lizzie’s mother enjoyed the story a little too much, and his own mother wasn’t much better, the two of them giggling like girls as Mr. Russell described the antics of his little sister.

“Mr. Russell,” Lady Huntington was smiling at the man. “Since you’re in the area, I insist you join us today. Mrs. MacGregor and I have decided to host a picnic out by Willingham Woods. We’d love to have you there, and I think that you’d enjoy it.”

Alexander understood that it was only good manners to include the man, especially in light of the fact he was showing his support for Lizzie after she’d been ostracized in town. No doubt, her mother was grateful.

But was the woman blind? Did she wish her daughter snatched away, to live across the ocean, rarely to be seen again? Surely not.

So what was she about? Mayhap she intended to give him a little competition, so that he might show himself in a better light?

Or mayhap he was over-thinking the whole situation and it was simple courtesy. Whatever the case, Alexander was up to the challenge. One thing was for certain: Mr. Russell would only get Lizzie alone over his dead body.

***

spent the morning getting ready, and then the ladies rode in the carriage, all the men rode on horseback, and soon their small party was exiting near the wooded area.

The place was well-known to the family and to Alexander as well.

They’d spent many a pleasant afternoon here when it was their turn to entertain the MacGregors, as the trees, the meadow, and the stream offered plenty of opportunity to explore nature.

As Alexander handed her down from the carriage, Lizzie felt a sudden pang of nostalgia. “It feels strange to be here without your father.”

“Aye. ’Tis funny ye would say that; I was actually just thinking the same.”

She smiled at him. “Our family wore mourning for him for a year, did you know?”

He shook his head. His lips pressed together, and she could tell he was touched by the fact.

“We truly loved him, you know. Even after you went off to school then joined the military, your family still came out here in the summers. I think by that point, our parents enjoyed each other’s company and therefore it became a regular event.”

“I did hear of it. Ye wrote me, as did my parents. I remember thinking at the time, that I was sad to miss it.” He glanced around. “We had some good times here, did we no’?”

“We did.” She agreed.

They followed the others to where their mothers were spreading out a couple of blankets.

Mr. Russell was helping them, and flirting with the older ladies, much to their amusement.

She noticed that Mr. Russell threw her an occasional glance, and knew he wanted to get her alone to have a chat.

It was only fair she tell him in person that she’d considered his proposal, was honored by it, but would have to regretfully refuse.

She’d practiced the wording several times in her head this morning, and had come to the conclusion that the sooner they had the conversation the better.

She wanted to spend this time with Alexander. Get to know him a little better now that he’d opened up a bit, and yes, perhaps enjoy a few more of his kisses.

She couldn’t really do that with Mr. Russell hanging about, could she? Still, she was obligated to talk to the man. To explain.

The question was how she was going to have this conversation with Mr. Russell, when Alexander so obviously wasn’t going to give them a chance to be alone?

She certainly didn’t want to admit that Mr. Russell had proposed to her, and that she’d considered it.

She suspected that, after their time in London, Alexander’s feelings might be hurt, and that was the last thing she wanted.

As she helped set up the picnic, she debated over the best way to see Mr. Russell alone.

She glanced at Alexander, who was watching her like a hawk.

She sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

***

was laughing and having a good time playing a game of cricket with Alexander, Mr. Russell, and her two siblings.

It had been a wonderful afternoon, reminiscent of those in the past, and she felt like they almost reverted to childhood, wading in the stream, climbing rocks, and enjoying the food in the sunshine.

Cheeses, fruits, various meats. Biscuits and marmalade, plum cake with clotted cream. Plenty of cider. Wonderful.

And then there was her overwhelming attraction to Alexander, which she was trying to ignore given the current company.

Mother and Mrs. MacGregor certainly hadn’t stopped talking the entire time. There had been a lot of laughter, a lot of reminiscing, and perhaps too much sunshine.

With her hat missing for much of the day, Lizzie suspected her nose would be quite red by bedtime.

And, of course, that meant even more freckles — something to worry about another day.

Mr. Russell over-pitched the ball, much to the laughter of her siblings, and Alexander was forced to run after it.

Lizzie added her own jeering to the mix. “Is that how they teach you to throw in America?”

“Why don’t you come and find out?”

It was the first personal remark he’d made the entire day, and she quickly glanced after Alexander to see if he’d heard it, but he was too far away.

Perhaps this was the only, and best, chance she might get to talk to the man. She crossed the distance swiftly, and told him, “Mr. Russell, I need to talk to you about something.”

His lips curved into a charming smile. “And I need to talk to you, as well.”

Alexander was already coming back, his long stride eating up the distance between them.

“Lizzie, I’ll come by your place after dark tonight. Will you come out and talk to me? At say, ten o’clock? At the kitchen door?”

Alexander would have a fit if he knew about it, but there was no time to explain to Mr. Russell that she couldn’t marry him, as Alexander was almost upon them.

“Yes. That would be fine.”

Alexander’s face had darkened with anger. “What would be fine, Lizzie?”

“She’s offered to teach me how to pitch. She has suggested that I’m lacking in skill.”

Mr. Russell lied easily enough and Lizzie tried to keep her own face straight as Alexander’s searched her expression for any hint that something was out of the ordinary.

Alexander eyed the other man, the earlier camaraderie of the afternoon completely gone. “I think we’re about done with this game, anyway. If you’re needing any lessons, Mr. Russell, I’d be glad to give them to you. Mayhap another round in the boxing ring?”

Mr. Russell laughed as if Alexander was joking.

But his face was set in hard, tight lines, and Lizzie was afraid that if she didn’t intervene, Alexander might actually do something to harm the man.

She held out her hand to Alexander. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired and thirsty. Let’s get some more cider and sit for a while, shall we?”

Alexander took her hand, shot the other man a hard look, and led her away.

Oh. Dear. Sometimes she thought she knew Alexander quite well, and other times, she wondered if she knew him at all.