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With one arm around her waist, he slid his other hand to her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw. “I cannot seem to stop at one kiss with you, Ailie. ’Tis just as well we are standing on the dock and not sitting on a parlor sofa or I might do something we’d both regret.”

“I’ll not be regretting that kiss, Nash, not ever. And I’ll not be forgetting it either.”

“I don’t want you to forget. I want you to remember it always.”

Her heart soared at his words. If he wanted her to remember his kiss, surely he wanted to be with her beyond his time in Arbroath.

He dropped his hand from her neck to join his other one at her waist. “Have you thought more about going to London, Ailie?”

“Do you mean Muriel’s offer to take me under her wing and sponsor me in the ton?”

He let his hands fall from her waist and reached for her hand. With determined steps, he began to walk along the dock, taking her with him.

The dogs returned, sniffed at Nash’s heels, then ran ahead. The ships, tethered to their moorings, rocked on the water like brooding ghosts.

“Well, that’s one way of getting you to London, I suppose. Does it appeal?”

She wondered what thoughts were going through his mind. She detected impatience in his voice. Was he angry as well? Did he want her to come to London?

“I have come to like Muriel very much and would enjoy her company.” In a rush of words, she said, “Part of me thinks I should stay to help Emily with the baby, but I could be back by then, couldn’t I? Too, our housekeeper, Mrs. Banks, is very good with babies, so perhaps there is no reason not to go. Is that what you meant?”

He was just ahead of her but she heard his sigh, his warm breath a cloud in the cold night air. “You might have more choices before we set sail for London.”

She pulled back on his hand and stopped. He turned to face her. “You’re being cryptic, Nash Powell.”

“I am… for the now, as you would say.” Even in the darkness, she could see his white teeth as he smiled.

Perhaps he was not angry, after all. “Oh, very well, be mysterious.”

He tilted his head to the sky. “Look, Ailie, there’s a shooting star!”

A bright star streaked across the black velvet canvas above them, making all the other stars seem dim by comparison. “They do come at this time of year.”

He squeezed her hand. “I shall remember this one as coming for us.”

A wave of joy washed over her. The thought that the star might mark more than the time of the year pleased her immensely. He had recited poetry to her, told her to remember his kiss and now he chose a shooting star to mark their time together. Could he come to love a Scot? Could she love an Englishman? The realization that she might already love him made her pause. If she weren’t careful, if he just sailed away come the New Year, she could be left alone and hurt. But it was too late to guard her heart.

They made their way back to the house. He waited while she returned the dogs to their kennel and then escorted her to her chamber. Like the gentleman he was, he bowed, kissed her hand and wished her a good night before disappearing down the dark corridor to his own room.

Ailie floated into her chamber, certain she traveled on an invisible cloud.

Before she blew out the candle, she opened her diary, dipped the quill in the ink and thought long before she wrote.

23 December

Today’s stalking for the red hind led us into the path of a terrible avalanche. I have never seen one before, but I knew enough of them to recognize the great mass of snow rushing toward us for what it was. Nash pulled me from danger as I stood paralyzed before the onrushing snow. He was quite cross with me. At first I was angry, but then I wondered, did his being cross mean he cares? Or, might he have merely acted the gallant? But that was before tonight’s kiss in the shipyard beneath the stars.

I will never forget that kiss as long as I live.

As I consider my future, I pray he will be in it. I would like to see his face every day, to always know only his kiss. Nash asked me about Muriel’s invitation to go to London, which looms ahead. I am inclined to go.

Yet the strange dreams still trouble my sleep. I feel like I am hurtling toward something, but what?