“It’s no a bother, Robbie.” She smiled shyly and shrugged before holding one out to him. “I was stopping for my own midday meal anyway. I thought perhaps we could take our meal together.”
He dropped to one knee, not realizing how hungry he was until he took the first bite. “This is very good.”
Her cheeks bloomed a bright pink as she sat down beside him. After her first bite she looked up at him and wrinkled her nose before scooting several paces away.
Good. Having her so close had made even thought difficult.
“It’s a fair warm day, is it no?” she asked, as if searching for something to say. “And you’ve been working hard.”
He nodded, concentrating on the food in his hands. Small talk was an art at which he had never excelled. Filling his mouth with another bite, he allowed himself to steal a quick glance in her direction.
She stared off into the woods. The silence that fell between them felt all the more uncomfortable because of their shared memory of last night’s easy conversation.
In that silence Robert found himself entranced by her hair, staring at the way the sun glinted off individual strands. It looked like threads of deep burnished gold had been carelessly scattered among the bright, shiny copper. Sitting here next to Isa, it was all but impossible for him to remember his dislike of red hair.
Loose curls tossed in the breeze, framing her face. He fought the desire to reach out and capture one, to discover its fine texture between his fingers.
Instead he shoved another bite into his mouth.
Obviously whatever fool malady had plagued him last night haunted him still. For the life of him, he couldn’t begin to imagine why he was so obsessed with a woman he’d met only a day ago.
Another gentle puff of wind washed past, and her scent tickled at his nose like fresh mowed lawns on a lazy summer day. For an instant, his mind was filled with an image of her ankle-deep in one of those lawns. Her hair was loosened, floating around her shoulders in the breeze, as that fine, soft shift she’d worn last night slid the length of her curves to pool at her feet. When the mirage lifted her arms to beckon him closer, he actually leaned forward, jerking himself out of the erotic daydream.
“I have to go.” He jumped to stand, dropping what was left of his meal. He could only pray he didn’t sound as desperate to her as he did to his own ears.
“Yer leaving?” She sat still, looking up at him with those huge, innocent eyes of hers, blinking as if he’d confused her.
“It’s the fence.” He scrambled over his thick, useless tongue to come up with an excuse. “I need saplings for the wattle. I need to be about finding them before it’s too late in the day.”
“Oh.” She rose to her feet, dusting her hands off on her apron. “I can help, if you like.”
“No!” Good lord, he was so desperate to put some distance between them, he’d all but yelled it at her. He tried again, more quietly. “No, you’ve yer own chores to do. I’ll be back before dark. I can stay to the stream and find my way.”
He started off at a jog, stopping only long enough to grab the axe and rope he’d laid out earlier for the task.
The fence might need saplings but he’d reached a point where he needed the hard work of something much larger than cutting down a few twigs. He was thinking more along the lines of a big tree. He needed something that would exhaust his body and clear his thoughts.
With one last look back at the beauty watching him go, he cut into the woods, picking up speed. By all the Faerie Magic in the world, he sincerely doubted any place on the planet held a tree massive enough to allow him to drive that sight from his mind.
“Well, this is getting nothing done.” Isa spoke aloud as she was accustomed to doing, forcing herself to move at last. She had no idea how long she’d remained where she was, staring into the spot where Robbie had disappeared.
How stupid of her to feel disappointed that he hadn’t wanted her company. Wasn’t she the one who disdained the company of others? And wasn’t it beyond idiocy to feel lonely because he’d gone?
“Brainsick, that’s me,” she said to the world in general. Perhaps these past eight years of pretending to be a simple-minded dullard had taken their toll at last.
She did have work that needed doing. Too many tasks to waste her day dreaming after a man who was little more than a stranger. A kind stranger. A hardworking stranger.
“But a stranger nonetheless,” she said firmly, stopping at the woodpile to load up her arms.
The fire for her oven wouldn’t build itself. Without the fire there would be no bread for tomorrow’s meals. And hadn’t she promised herself this was the year she would try to build the drains depicted in her father’s old manuscript?
Perhaps she’d show the papers to Robbie tonight.
He might be a stranger, but he was a stranger whose company made her oddly happy.
With new purpose, Isa threw herself into her chores over the next few hours, losing track of time. Her bread was baking and a new pot of porridge was on to simmer, this one with bits of dried meat.
She’d just rounded the cottage, heading toward the stable to check on the ewe, when her goats began to nervously toss their heads and paw the ground.