Page 43 of The Ruthless Laird's Virgin
Eleanor smiled despite the knot of anxiety twisting in her stomach. The ruins, Andrew, and the note all haunted her thoughts, urging her forward. Yet somehow Callum's presence made them easier to bear.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Mist still lingered across the valleys below, curling around the hills like pale ribbons.
For a while, neither spoke. The silence was not uncomfortable as they both seemed occupied with their own thoughts.
Eleanor found herself glancing toward Callum more often than she intended. Perhaps it was because she had seen him half-dressed less than an hour ago. The memory refused to leave her mind.
Saints preserve me, but I cannae think of that.
Every time she thought she had forgotten the sight of his bare chest, the image returned with infuriating clarity. His broad shoulders. The tousled state of his dark hair. The sleepy confusion in his eyes when he had opened the door.
Heat crept into her cheeks.
“What is it?” Callum’s voice nearly made her jump in the saddle.
“Nothin’,” she lied quickly.
His eyebrow rose. “Nothin’ at all?”
“I… I was just wonderin’ how far it was until we reach the ruins? We always travelled from Edinburgh. I never approached fromthis direction before.” She focused her gaze on the road in front of her, hoping that her flaming cheeks would not give her away.
Why am I like this?
Callum's mouth twitched slightly. “Another half hour, perhaps.”
She nodded and looked ahead.
The further they rode, the quieter the world became. At first, Eleanor paid little attention to it. The forest surrounding the loch had always been peaceful. Yet as the minutes passed, an uneasy feeling began to settle in her stomach. There were no birds, no flapping of wings, and no rustling of creatures in the underbrush. Only the steady rhythm of hoofbeats against the damp earth.
Even Callum seemed to notice as he rose beside her, his hands tightening on the reins. His gaze swept the trees repeatedly, his posture becoming more alert with every passing moment. “Do ye hear that?” he asked quietly.
Eleanor frowned. “Hear what?”
“Exactly.” His jaw clenched almost painfully.
A chill crept down her spine.
Soon, the trees began to thin as the loch emerged before them, its dark waters reflecting the grey morning sky. On the far shore stood the ruins. The sight stole Eleanor's breath; nothing had changed.
The crumbling stone walls still stood where she remembered them. The broken tower still leaned slightly to one side. Ivy crawled across the weathered stone exactly as it had years ago.
For one brief moment, hope surged inside her.
Perhaps Andrew truly was here.
Perhaps he had hidden himself away. Perhaps...
Her horse suddenly snorted and shifted beneath her, forcing her to adjust her position in the saddle as she shifted to the side. There was no time to let her thoughts wander, not when she needed to keep her wits about her.
Callum dismounted first. “Stay close.”
She barely waited for him before sliding from her saddle.
Together they approached the ruins. Nothing stirred around them, not even the calling of a bird, the song of the frogs and crickets that usually permeated the air. It was almost as if even nature had abandoned the ruins for their arrival.
“Andrew?” she called. Her voice echoed across the empty stones.
No answer came.
