Page 72 of Death at a Highland Wedding
“You kissed Hugh when you were young.”
“No.” Another flush, this one paired with a guilt-ridden glance away. “Right before my marriage. Thedaybefore.”
“Oh.”
“That was the awful part,” she says. “It was the day before Lawrence and I planned to elope. Hugh was about to leave for London, and he came by to see Duncan, only Duncan had forgotten he was coming by, forgotten Hugh was leaving at all. You know how he can be.” Her lips twitch in a half smile. “I was there alone, and I invited Hugh to tea and he kissed me.”
“During tea?”
Her cheeks flame. “I stood to ring for the maid, and Hugh rose as well, and I was so close I nearly crashed into him. He told me Lawrence was not the man for me. He did not know of the elopement, of course, only that there was tension over our courtship, my parents refusing to let us marry. I had pretended the relationship was over, but Hugh knew better. He begged me to listen to my mother and Duncan. Then he kissed me. And I… I kissed him back.”
“Ah.”
“I fled after that. Said I did not mean it and ran upstairs, and Hugh did not follow. He left for London, and I spent the rest of the day in a state of nervous confusion. That kiss was… Confusing. I ought to have refused it. I ought to have been horrified by it. But I was not, and yet I loved Lawrence. I wasmarryingLawrence.”
Her gaze turns my way. “I felt like a harlot. You will understand how ridiculous that is, as I do now. At the time, though? To be in love with one man and let another kiss me? Toenjoythat kiss? To want to run after Hugh and ask what he meant by it?”
She crosses her arms, as if suddenly chilled. “I panicked. I should have analyzed the data and determined the cause. The cause being that I had convinced myself I was in love with Lawrence because he made me feelloved. He showered me with praise and affection, and I had never experienced that from a suitor.”
“In my time, we call that love bombing,” I say.
A brittle laugh. “That is exactly it. He bombarded me with what seemed like love when it was only artillery intended to break down my defenses and win himself a wealthy bride. He was so handsome and well regarded that I could not help but bask in his attention. If his kiss did not ignite me the way Hugh’s had—” She clears her throat. “The point is that, in my guilt and shame and confusion, I only became more determined to marry Lawrence. Which I did.”
“And then…”
“And then Hugh cut his trip short, came home, and ended his engagement to Violet.”
“Oh.”
She slants a look my way as we resume walking. “Once, after a glass of whisky, I said that I hoped it had nothing to do with our kiss, any guilt over it. He said no, that he had already been in the throes of uncertainty about the engagement when he kissed me, and he apologized for that. He blamed his confusion.”
“Over his engagement.”
“Yes, he said he was not himself. He was confused and worried that I was still seeing Lawrence, and in the turmoil of those emotions, he kissed me, and he was sorry if that had been upsetting. I said no, that it had been a time of confusion for me as well. We left it at that.”
“Okay.”
“But I have since wondered whether it could have been more. Whether he might have had deeper feelings for me.”
I’m about to answer that question when her next words stop me.
“I feared he might have had deeper feelings,” she says. “And then I feared he did not.” She flutters her hands. “Worse, it is what I still fear.”
“That he has deeper feelings for you? Or that he does not?”
“Both,” she says with obvious exasperation. She stops on the edge of the lake and looks out over it. “When we were children, Annis always counseled me not to be a foolish girl. To her, that was the worst thing a young woman could be, and so it became the same standard for me. Whatever else I might be—odd, awkward, wild in my thinking and my habits—atleast I was not foolish. Then I grew up and became exactly that. The foolish girl who fell for Lawrence Ballantyne. After that, one would think I had learned my lesson. But clearly I did not, because I have grown into a foolish woman who, at the same time, both wants and fears a man’s romantic regard.”
Her words are like the swing of an anvil, and I’m half inclined to duck my head to avoid the blow. Wanting a man’s attention while being terrified of what it would mean? Why no, I’ve never felt that at all.
I say, very carefully, “That doesn’t seem all that foolish to me.” I clear my throat and shove thoughts of Gray aside to focus on Isla. “You have deeper feelings for Hugh?”
“Yes.” She blurts the admission like she’s confessing to wanting him dead. “I am a fool.”
“I can’t imagine thinking any woman foolish for liking Hugh. He is very easy to like.” I quickly add, “Not that I have any such feeling for him.”
She turns a small smile on me. “You do not need to explain. I understand very well where your affections lie, and what your feelings are for Hugh. Friendship. As mine should be.”
“Why?” I move up beside her to look out at the lake. “If I said I’m certain that he feels the same—”
